Homer’s Odyssey tells the tale of Odysseus returning to his home after the Trojan War. For a variety of reasons, the trip is not an easy one. It takes him a full ten years to return home.

But the journey from Troy to Ithaca, Odysseus’ home island, should not have been too difficult and certainly not a ten-year trip. For this reason, some researchers have claimed that Odysseus actually traveled outside of the Mediterranean. There is even the suggestion that he traveled to Ireland.

Odysseus travel to Ogygia and its connection to Ireland

In the Odyssey, one of the places Odysseus visits is an island called Ogygia. This was the home of the nymph Calypso, who offers Odysseus immortality if he agrees to marry her. She refuses to let him leave otherwise. The gods intervene and force Calypso to release him. Hence, after seven years on the island, Odysseus builds a raft and sails away.

The location of Ogygia has been the subject of considerable speculation. According to Homer’s account, the island is a place of beautiful meadows, fountains, woods, and various types of birds. However, none of this is particularly helpful. All sorts of islands could fit this description.

In ancient times, various suggestions were made as to where Ogygia might actually be located. More recently, some scholars have argued that Ogygia is identical to Ireland. If this identification is correct, this would mean that Odysseus spent seven years in Ireland.

The most notable scholar to have come to this conclusion was Roderick O’Flaherty. In 1685, he used the name ‘Ogygia’ as a synonym for Ireland in the title of one of his books. It was called: Ogygia: Or a Chronological Account of Irish Events.

Plutarch’s account of Ogygia

One of the key pieces of evidence used to support the identification of Ireland as Ogygia is a passage written by Plutarch, a historian of the first century CE. He wrote about Homer’s account of Ogygia in conjunction to other additional information he provided. According to Plutarch, Ogygia was situated to the west of Britain, which is where Ireland is in fact located.

Additionally, Plutarch tells us that Ogygia was five thousand stadia away from the ‘great continent’ which surrounded the ‘great sea.’ Several scholars have suggested that this ‘great continent’ actually refers to America. Examples include Wilhelm von Christ, an eighteenth-century German scholar, and Johannes Kepler, a sixteenth-century German scholar.

If the ‘great continent’ mentioned by Plutarch really was America, then that would mean that Ogygia was actually an island somewhere between Britain and America. Since Plutarch says that Ogygia was five thousand stadia from the great continent but only several days distant from Britain, this indicates that it was much closer to Britain than to America. Therefore, Ireland would seem to be a good match.

Problems with identifying Ogygia as Ireland

While Ireland does match Plutarch’s basic description, there are certain issues with this identification. For one thing, Ireland is not five thousand stadia from America. This distance would be the equivalent of a little over nine hundred kilometers. Nevertheless, the distance between Ireland and America is about three thousand kilometers.

Hence, the distance specified by Plutarch means that Ireland is in fact not Ogygia, if America was indeed the ‘great continent’ to which he referred. Clearly, however, there is no other option for the great continent that would fit the passage.

Another problem is that Plutarch states that it takes five days of sailing to travel between Britain and Ogygia. This would indicate an island much further west than Ireland because it would barely take two days of sailing to reach Ireland from the furthest part of the western side of Britain.

In reality, there is no island which is exactly five days’ sailing away from Britain and also five thousand stadia away from America. The measurements simply do not correspond to any real location.

Perhaps, then, some researchers could use this as evidence that the measurements must be incorrect, meaning that Ireland could still be the intended location. Alternatively, it could of course also mean that Plutarch was not really describing an actual location at all.

Greek fire was the mysterious weapon used by the Byzantines to destroy enemies and prospective invaders, keeping the Empire strong and awe-inspiring.

The Byzantine liquid fire that protected the Empire was a terror-inspiring incendiary weapon that protected the Empire for centuries. Widely known as Greek Fire, this mighty weapon enabled the Byzantine Empire to survive and maintain its power through many attacks from various enemies.

The weapon could be compared to the modern day flame-thrower. To the enemy in Byzantine times, it looked like a machine spewing destructive fire from hell. However, its exact origin remains unclear, and the recipe for this formidable weapon is still unknown, puzzling scientists and historians.

Records suggest Greek fire contained a mix of petroleum, quicklime, and other unknown ingredients. This potent combination is believed to have made it one of the most flammable and dangerous substances of its time. What was truly amazing about the Byzantine liquid fire weapon was that it continued to burn on water and was practically impossible to put out with medieval means.

It helped the Empire maintain sovereignty over the mass land it occupied, spanning all of Southern Europe, North Africa, and Asia Minor. The weapon’s impact on the course of history is undeniable. It played a key role in the defense of Constantinople and the preservation of the Byzantine Empire.

A Brilliant Invention

Fire as a weapon had been used for centuries but never in such a sophisticated and destructive means  as the Greek fire (or Υγρόν πυρ – Hygron pyr, as it was referred to in Greek). It was the Crusaders who referred to it as Greek fire or “liquid fire,” “Roman fire,” or “sea fire.”  It was a significant weapon that never ceased to terrify the enemy.

This innovative weapon would fire massive flames in a continuous jet, burning a trail of destruction in its path that was nearly impossible to extinguish. When it came to naval warfare, it was a weapon that was impossible for the enemy to defend their ships from. Yet, the exact recipe for the liquid fire substances the Byzantines used remains a mystery to this day.

The Greek fire cannon-like machine was created in the seventh century. It most likely was the invention of Kallinikos of Heliopolis, a Jewish architect who fled from Syria to Constantinople. It was between 674 and 678 when the Byzantine Empire was attacked by the Islamic fleet of the Umayyad caliphate that had already taken over parts of Syria.

Concerned about an Islamic attack against Constantinople, Kallinikos experimented with a variety of materials until he discovered a mix for an incendiary weapon. Kallinikos sent the formula to the Byzantine emperor, and authorities developed a siphon that operated somewhat like a syringe, propelling the fiery concoction toward enemy ships.

Emperor Constantine IV reluctantly ordered the use of Greek fire to destroy the Umayyad fleet. However, the Byzantine weapon was very successful. According to historian Kelly DeVries and his book Medieval Military Technology, it was the first reported use of an incendiary weapon in battle.

Was Byzantine Liquid Fire a State Secret?

Some historians believe the reason the recipe for liquid fire remains unknown is because Byzantine emperors wanted to keep it a state secret, never to fall into the hands of the enemy. The vast Empire was surrounded by numerous enemies coveting its lands. Liquid fire was a potent deterrent to any army that would think of invading.

Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus warned his son Romanos II to not reveal the recipe “and not to prepare this fire but for Christians, and only in the imperial city.”

Anna Komnene, daughter of Emperor Alexios I Komnenos (r. 1081-1118) and a historian, wrote about the recipe for Greek fire:

This fire is made by the following arts: From the pine and certain such evergreen trees, inflammable resin is collected. This is rubbed with sulfur and put into tubes of reed, and is blown by men using it with violent and continuous breath. Then in this manner it meets the fire on the tip and catches light and falls like a fiery whirlwind on the faces of the enemies.

It was not that straight-forward, of course. Otherwise, it would be easy for the enemy to recreate the fiery weapon. It seems indeed that the Byzantines intended to keep the process of creating the liquid fire top secret, as no friend or enemy ever managed to gain insight into this so as to construct their own similar weapon.

Greek Fire in Battle

In his book, Devries explains that Greek fire can refer to three different weapons: firstly, a fiery liquid pumped out of a nozzle; secondly, a liquid weapon that was filled in small grenades; and thirdly, a solid incendiary probably based on gunpowder.

The third is impossible to have been used in Byzantium. Its reported use started in the fourteenth century in Western Europe. However, there are Byzantine era depictions of men carrying hand-held tubes spitting fire that look even more like modern flame-throwers.

In fact, Greek fire was rarely used except primarily in naval battles, as the apparatus was complicated and required technically equipped handlers. Furthermore, it was dangerous to have an incendiary mechanism on a wooden ship.

In 727, Emperor Leo sent a fleet to burn that of Hellas and Cyclades, who had been revolting against him. In 941, a Rus naval raid from Kiev across the Black Sea was stopped, and their fleet was annihilated by the Byzantines.

Reportedly, in the eleventh century, Viking Ingvar the Far Travelled encountered ships equipped with the weapon, which he described as “a brass (or bronze) tube and from it flew much fire against one ship, and it burned up in a short time so that all of it became white ashes…”

However, by the end of the twelfth century and the Angeloi emperors, the Empire started to decline, losing more and more land to the rising Ottoman Empire. As Byzantium began to fade, so did the use of Greek fire until it became but a simple chapter in the great history of the Byzantine Empire.

When you think about Italy and ruins, your mind’s eye automatically brings up scenes of the Roman Forum and the Colosseum. However, Italy is home to countless ruins which are actually ancient Greek—many of which remain in stellar condition.

The country’s mainland, as well as the island of Sicily, are dotted with Greek ruins—some of which are integrated into modern-day cities and are still even used to host events! Others can be found in isolated locations well off the beaten path.

Ancient Greek Ruins of Italy

As you travel through Italy, as you really should if you call yourself a well-traveled individual, be sure to say “Opa!” as often as you say “Mamma mia!” The following are just some of the truly jaw-dropping ancient Greek ruins which are scattered throughout the Italian countryside.

Paestum

Located in southern Italy along the coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea in what was then called “Greater Greece” or Magna Graecia, this was a major Greek city in ancient times. The ruins date back to 600 to 450 B.C. and are some of the best-preserved Greek temples in the world!

The three famous ancient Greek temples at this site are of the Doric type, and the ancient city walls and amphitheater are mostly intact. The bottom section of walls from many other structures are completely intact.

It is an amazing experience to be able to walk along the ancient stone-paved roads and view the buildings along the roadsides just as the ancients did. The site is open to the public, and there is a modern national museum on-site for you to check out as well.

Another plus is that this archeological site is well off the beaten path and is seldom crowded with visitors!

Locri Epizefiri

Also on the mainland of Italy, in Reggio di Calabria, you will come across the ancient ruins at Locri. The ancient city has been mostly taken over by the encroachment of the nearby towns.

However, the area is very much worth a visit because the atmosphere quiets as you pass through shady olive groves and meander along the overgrown pathways. It is here where you will inevitably, and literally, stumble across a treasure of ancient ruins.

Greek temples, amphitheaters, and the well-known Sanctuary of Persephone grace the Locri area. The magical experience is truly something you shouldn’t miss out on.

On the island of Sicily, some truly remarkable ruins are yours to explore, starting with the still-used ancient Greek Theater of Taormina!

The Ancient Greek Theater of Taormina

With the beautiful Mediterranean sea lapping at the shores below and the active volcano of Etna looming over the city, Taormina is an upscale destination, featuring cultural events, museums, and priceless antiquities—right in the middle of a bustling city!

Here you will find an ancient Greek amphitheater with exquisite views of both the volcano and the sea. While there, you might even be lucky enough to see a show at the ancient theater. It was originally built in 300’s B.C. and subsequently rebuilt by the Romans in the second century B.C.

Valle dei Templi in Agrigento

In Argrigento, you will be treated to refreshing views of expansive fields and woodlands—as well as one of the most pristine ancient Greek ruins in existence in the Valle dei Templi (the Valley of Temples).

Many of the temples and ruins here are not fenced off, so travelers may walk inside and be transported back to the fifth century B.C., when the Greeks first built the ancient city of Akragas. One of the most well-preserved Greek temples in the world, the Temple of Concord, is in this valley.

Segesta Archaeological Site

Segesta is located only 70 kilometers (43 miles) southwest of Palermo. Fortunate travelers here can visit what is perhaps the second most well-preserved temple in the world after those in the Valle dei Templi. Segesta also boasts a beautiful amphitheater, situated atop Mount Barbaro, which is also in pristine condition.

The temple dates back to the fifth century B.C. and has typical Doric architecture. Each summer the ancient amphitheater hosts a series of classical Greek dramas performed in Italian. If you’re lucky enough to visit during the summertime, be sure to catch a show.

Ancient Greek Colony in Siracusa

A favorite for all are the ancient ruins at Siracusa (Syracuse), where the ancient Greek colony dates back to the 5th century B.C. This area boasts a Greek theater and the Temple of Apollo, which dates back to the 6th century. Siracusa also has the ruins of the famous Altar of Hieron II—the largest altar from ancient Greece!

Located on the southeastern coast of Sicily and founded by ancient Greeks from Corinth, the city of Siracusa was once one of the most powerful city-states of ancient times. It was once described by the Roman orator Cicero as “the greatest Greek city, and the most beautiful of them all.”

Siracusa is so rich in historical treasures that it is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Of course, there are many other Greek ruins that you will come across in your travels through Italy and Sicily, and we have merely scratched the surface in highlighting some of the more popular and well-preserved sites.

Be sure to work a little bit of Greek history into your itinerary on your visit to Italia!

Among the greatest rhetorical theorists stood Hermogenes of Tarsus, an Ancient Greek sophist and rhetorician who lived during the second century AD and developed a sophisticated theory of style that categorized speech according to seven major rhetorical qualities or styles of speech. These included Clarity (saphēneia), Grandeur (megethos), Beauty (kallos or omorphia), Rapidity (gorgotēs), Ethos, Sincerity, and Force (deinotēs).

Although many people mistakenly associate these rhetorical categories with the rhetorician Demosthenes, the systematic classification belongs to Hermogenes himself. Together, these categories formed a complete philosophy of expression. Hermogenes did not view rhetoric as ornamental alone. Instead, he treated speech as a living art capable of shaping thought, emotion, and public action.

The Ancient Greek Hermogenes and the art of rhetoric qualities or styles of speech

Ancient Greek rhetoric shaped political life, education, philosophy, and literature for centuries. Public speech held enormous importance in the Greek world because success in courts, assemblies, and intellectual debates depended upon persuasive expression. As rhetoric evolved, Greek thinkers attempted to classify the qualities that made speech effective, elegant, and emotionally powerful.

Hermogenes of Tarsus gained fame at a very young age. He was a rhetorical prodigy whose abilities astonished teachers and audiences alike, and he later composed several influential rhetorical treatises, especially On Types of Style. This work became one of the most significant manuals of rhetoric in late antiquity and Byzantium. Byzantine scholars such as George of Trebizond studied Hermogenes extensively, and introduced his theories in the West during the Renaissance.

Unlike simpler rhetorical systems, Hermogenes established a highly nuanced approach. He understood that persuasive speech requires flexibility rather than rigid formulas. Differing situations demand different styles, tones, and emotional effects. For this reason, his seven categories of styles of speech function less as isolated techniques and more as interconnected dimensions of expression.

“Clarity,” or Saphēneia, as a critical style of speech according to the Ancient Greek Hermogenes

Hermogenes considered clarity the foundation of all effective speech. Without clarity, audiences are unable to follow arguments or comprehend meaning. A speaker may possess intelligence and passion, yet confusion eradicates persuasion. Clarity therefore requires precise vocabulary, logical structure, and direct expression. Sentences should communicate ideas without unnecessary obscurity.

Nevertheless, Hermogenes did not reduce clarity to simplicity alone. Clear speech can still remain elegant and intellectually sophisticated. The goal involves illumination rather than oversimplification.

Greek philosophers also highly valued clarity. The philosopher Plato often criticized sophists who concealed weak arguments beneath decorative language. Similarly, Aristotle emphasized intelligibility as an essential feature of rhetoric. Hermogenes continued this tradition while developing a more refined stylistic analysis.

“Grandeur” as one of the most significant rhetorical qualities

Grandeur introduces elevation, dignity, and majesty into speech. This style suits heroic themes, political crises, moral exhortation, and public ceremonies. A grand style expands language through emotional intensity, powerful imagery, and elevated rhythm. Speakers using grandeur aim to inspire awe and admiration. Demosthenes often exemplified this quality in his speeches against Philip of Macedon. His rhetoric combined patriotic urgency with emotional force.

However, Hermogenes warned against excess. Grandeur must remain controlled. Otherwise, speech becomes inflated and artificial. True grandeur emerges from harmony between content and expression. Noble themes require compatible, equally noble language, yet authentic emotion must guide rhetorical elevation.

The speech style of “Beauty,” or Omorphia

Beauty in rhetoric concerns elegance, harmony, and aesthetic pleasure. Hermogenes believed that beautiful speech delights audiences through rhythm, imagery, and balanced structure. This quality resembles artistic composition in poetry, sculpture, or music. Beautiful speech flows smoothly and creates emotional resonance through sound and proportion.

Greek culture deeply associated beauty with order and harmony. Philosophers often linked external beauty with inner balance. Hermogenes applies this principle directly to language. A beautiful style does not merely persuade intellectually. It also captivates emotionally and aesthetically.

Writers achieve beauty through careful word choice, graceful transitions, and balanced phrasing. Metaphors, cadence, and musicality all contribute to this effect. Nonetheless, Hermogenes again emphasizes moderation. Excessive ornament weakens rhetorical effectiveness. Beauty must support meaning rather than overwhelm it.

The speech style of “Rapidity,” or Gorgotēs

Rapidity injects speech with energy, movement, and urgency. Hermogenes used the term gorgotēs to describe swift and dynamic expression that propels audiences forward. This style relies upon shorter clauses, quick transitions, and vigorous pacing. Rapid speech creates excitement and emotional momentum.

Orators often utilized this technique during moments of tension or conflict. Fast-moving rhetoric can produce feelings of urgency, danger, or passionate conviction. At the same time, rapidity demands careful control. If speech moves too quickly, audiences lose comprehension. Therefore, speakers must balance speed with clarity.

Hermogenes admired speakers who could accelerate rhythm without sacrificing coherence. Rapidity also reflects psychological intensity. Passionate conviction naturally produces energetic language and movement.

Styles of speech, “Ethos,” and “Sincerity”

Ethos concerns character and moral presence within speech. Aristotle had already emphasized ethos as one of the three pillars of persuasion. Hermogenes expanded this concept stylistically. A speaker’s language reveals personality, values, and emotional disposition. Audiences trust speakers who appear honorable, wise, and sincere.

Ethos therefore demands moral credibility and emotional authenticity. Differing rhetorical situations also require varying forms of ethos. A judge, philosopher, general, or grieving citizen each projects distinct moral qualities through speech.

Hermogenes understood that persuasion depends heavily upon the audience’s perception of character. Even brilliant arguments fail when listeners distrust the speaker. Thus, rhetorical success involves ethical presence as much as intellectual ability.

Sincerity is another trait that creates emotional truthfulness and human immediacy. Hermogenes recognized that audiences respond deeply to speech that feels genuine. A sincere speaker avoids excessive theatricality or artificial ornament. Instead, sincerity emerges through direct emotional connection and honest expression. This style often appears in personal appeals, lamentations, or moral reflections. Sincere rhetoric results in intimacy between the speaker and audience.

Greek tragedy frequently employed this quality during scenes of grief or confession. Philosophers also valued sincerity because truth required alignment between speech and inner conviction. Hermogenes therefore treated sincerity as a rhetorical strength rather than weakness. Genuine emotion can persuade more powerfully than technical brilliance alone. Nonetheless, sincerity still requires artistic control. Raw emotion without structure can become chaotic or ineffective.

“Force,” or Deinotēs, as the seventh of the major Ancient Greek styles of speech

Force represents the culmination of rhetorical power. Hermogenes viewed deinotēs as the ability to overwhelm audiences through intensity, authority, and commanding presence. This style combines emotional energy, intellectual precision, and persuasive momentum. Forceful rhetoric strikes listeners with irresistible impact. Demosthenes often embodied this quality during political speeches. His words carried urgency, moral conviction, and strategic precision simultaneously.

Force differs from mere aggression. True rhetorical force arises from mastery over every dimension of speech. Clarity, grandeur, rhythm, sincerity, and ethos all contribute to it. Hermogenes considered this quality extremely challenging to achieve, and only highly skilled speakers could combine all rhetorical elements harmoniously. Force therefore represented the highest form of rhetorical excellence.

The unity of the seven styles of speech

Hermogenes never intended these categories to function separately. Great rhetoric combines multiple styles according to circumstance. A political speech may require grandeur during patriotic appeals, clarity during argumentation, sincerity during emotional moments, and force during conclusions. This flexibility explains the lasting influence of Hermogenes. His system recognized the complexity of human communication.

Hermogenes of Tarsus shaped rhetorical education for more than a thousand years. Byzantine scholarship practically treated his works as sacred manuals of eloquence. Renaissance humanists later read his theories and incorporated them into European education. His influence extended beyond rhetoric into theology, literature, and philosophy. Christian preachers especially valued his understanding of emotional and ethical persuasion.

Even today, modern communication still reflects principles Hermogenes identified centuries ago in his seven styles of speeches. Political speeches, courtroom arguments, literature, and public debates all rely upon clarity, emotional force, sincerity, and character.

In 189 BC, Ancient Greeks defending the city of Ambracia used an early form of chemical warfare against Roman forces during a siege, deploying a clay jar filled with burning chicken feathers.

At first, the story sounds almost absurd, but it becomes far more striking once the details are unpacked and we understand what was happening beneath the city walls—and, more importantly, why this moment even matters in the history of ancient warfare.

Ancient Greeks turn to chemical warfare and burning feathers as siege intensifies

The Romans arrived in Ambracia with overwhelming force. Consul Marcus Fulvius Nobilior deployed battering rams under a two-hundred-foot covered gallery, a massive mobile shed designed to protect his engineers from arrows and boiling pitch as they hammered away at the walls. The Ambraciot defenders held firm. The walls didn’t collapse.

Frustrated and running out of options above ground, the attackers eventually turned underground. Their plan was straightforward enough: tunnel beneath the city, collapse the foundations, and force the stubborn Greeks to surrender. For a while, the effort proceeded in silence. Then the Greeks noticed the piles of excavated earth building up outside the camp and understood exactly what was going on. Locating the tunnel was another matter. The Greeks solved it with one of the most clever pieces of field engineering in ancient history.

They placed thin bronze vessels against the ground at various points inside the city and then pressed their ears to them to listen. The vibrations traveling through the earth from the pickaxes told them exactly where the tunnel was heading. It functioned as an early acoustic detection system, and it worked brilliantly. They then dug a counter-tunnel and broke through into the mine. What followed was the kind of close-quarters underground fighting where normal weapons become useless. Spears are too long, shields too wide, and you can’t even see the man you’re fighting, so they built something new.

The Greeks took a large clay jar, a pithos, sized to precisely fit the tunnel, capped it with an iron lid drilled with holes, inserted an iron tube connected to a blacksmith’s bellows, and filled the jar with glowing charcoal covered in a dense layer of fine feathers, creating what can be described as an early chemical warfare device. When it was pushed into the tunnel and activated with the bellows, it produced a thick cloud of acrid, choking smoke that billowed forward into the darkness.

The Roman miners couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and had nowhere to go. They abandoned their tools and fled to the surface to escape the choking fumes. The Greeks had driven off a superior Roman force solely with clay, iron, fire, and feathers. Military historian Adrienne Mayor has pointed to this episode as evidence of just how sophisticated ancient weapons technology really was.

This deliberate act of chemical engineering would be remembered in later accounts of ancient warfare. The pithos was matched to the tunnel width specifically to prevent blowback. The feathers were chosen for the particular quality of smoke they produced when burned at high temperatures. Someone thought this through. The parallels to later warfare are hard to ignore. The same basic horror—an invisible, suffocating enemy in a dark enclosed space—would define trench warfare on the Western Front more than two thousand years later.

The psychology hasn’t changed even if the chemistry has. Ambracia ultimately surrendered. Cut off and outnumbered, the city eventually negotiated terms rather than fight on indefinitely, but the defenders had already shown what was possible. Historians now regard what happened in those tunnels as one of the earliest documented uses of asphyxiating chemical weaponry in a tactical military context—a genuine milestone in the history of warfare.

@timelinehistoryoffical

During the Roman siege of Ambracia in 189 BC, the defenders deployed what is one of the earliest recorded uses of a chemical weapon in history — and they used it underground. Rome was besieging the Greek city, held by the Aetolian League. When the walls held and the siege artillery failed, the Romans turned to mining — digging a tunnel beneath the walls, concealed behind a two-hundred-foot covered walkway, worked in relays day and night. For days the defenders didn’t notice. Then the pile of excavated earth grew too large to hide. Unable to see the tunnel, the defenders pressed bronze vessels against the ground to detect the vibration of digging, located the Roman mine, and dug a counter-tunnel straight toward it. The two tunnels met. Soldiers fought face to face in darkness too cramped to swing a sword. When direct combat failed, the defenders built a device described in detail by the historian Polybius: a clay jar fitted to the tunnel’s width, packed with feathers over burning coals, sealed with a perforated iron lid, and connected to a blacksmith’s bellows. They pumped the choking smoke directly into the Roman tunnel. The Romans were driven out of their own mine. According to Polybius, it was among the first uses of toxic smoke in the history of war. Further reading — Polybius, The Histories: https://amzn.to/4uWM9wN #AncientHistory #RomanEmpire #Ambracia #Shorts #HistoryShorts #ChemicalWarfare #TimelineHistory #history #shorts #ancientrome #education

♬ original sound – Timeline History

Across history, ancient civilizations crafted prototypes for many of the modern mechanisms that have become integral to contemporary life. From the compass’s early forms that transformed navigation to the predecessors of today’s vending machines, these ancient artifacts offer insights into the roots of modern technology.

Although some of these ancient mechanisms were lost over time, their hidden potential was eventually revealed by subsequent generations, shedding light on the remarkable foresight of the ancient inventors.

Baghdad Battery

Baghdad Battery

found near Baghdad,considered galvanic cell that was created 2,000 years before A.Volta was born.The "battery"was a 13-centimeter vessel.Its neck was filled with bitumen an iron rod passed through it.Inside the vessel was a copper cylinder with an iron rod in it pic.twitter.com/zpPi36yxs7

— Truthseeker (@Xx17965797N) November 1, 2022

An ancient artifact, which became known as the Baghdad Battery, has fascinated the minds of scientists for the last century. According to chemist Dr. Von Handorf, this find allows to believe that “an ancient tinkerer could have invented an electroplating process.”

Discovered in 1938 by a German archaeologist Wilhelm Konig, the Baghdad Battery is potentially around 2,000 years old. It comprises a clay jar, a copper cylinder, and an iron rod. When filled with a mild acid, such as vinegar, this assembly generates approximately 1-2 volt of electricity.

Attention to the mechanism arose with new force after the Second World War. American scientist Willard Gray conducted experiments in the post-war period, making copies and demonstrating that the device could generate two volts of electricity when filled with electrolyte. German researchers in the 1970s replicated this setup and successfully used it to electroplate a thin layer of silver, proving its potential as a battery.

Several theories have been proposed regarding the purpose of the Baghdad Battery. One hypothesis suggests that its primary use was for therapeutic purposes, drawing inspiration from the ancient Greek practice of using electricity to relieve pain. Another theory suggests that the batteries could have been hidden inside religious statues or idols. Dr. Paul T Craddock suggested that those who touched the statues would “experience a little shock with a small, mysterious flash of blue light.”

However, this mystery is likely destined to remain unsolved, since the artifact was stolen from the National Museum of Iraq in 2003.

The Lycurgus Cup

This 1600-year-old cup has a feature that proves that the ancient Romans were pioneers of nanotechnology. The perfectly preserved artifact amazed minds with its ability to change color depending on position and lighting.

Since the 1950s, the Lycurgus Cup has been in the British Museum. It received its name because of the masterfully depicted king of Thrace, Lycurgus. According to ancient Greek legends, he was at enmity with the god of wine Dionysus and is depicted on a cup entangled in a trap of grapevines.

When lit from the front, the cup appears jade green, but changes color to a rich blood red when lit from behind. This unusual and extremely modern property for that era has amazed scientists for decades.

Subsequently, scientists still managed to solve the mystery of the ancient mechanism behind the cup. They examined the glass under a microscope and discovered that Roman artisans had impregnated it with particles of silver and gold. These grains were so small that their size was less than one thousandth of a grain of table salt. Researcher Ian Freestone from University College London called the painstaking work of the ancient craftsmen “an amazing feat.”

The operation of the color changing mechanism has also found its explanation. When hit by light, the electrons belonging to the metal particles vibrate in such a way that they change color depending on the position of the observer. Gan Logan Liu, a professor at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, said that when the cup was filled with liquid, it changed the way the vibrating electrons in the glass interacted. He underlined that the romans “knew how to make and use nanoparticles for beautiful art.” Consequently, the color of the cup also changes.

This ancient technology is reflected in the modern world. Thus, home pregnancy tests use nanoparticles that turns the white line into pink.

South-Pointing Chariot, Ancient Mechanism Before Compass

The prototype of a navigational instrument, this Chinese south-pointing chariot became an ancient analogue of the compass. The history of this ancient mechanism dates back to approximately 5th century BC.

The chariot was described as a horse-drawn cart indicating the southern direction. It featured a figure that consistently pointed south, irrespective of the cart’s orientation. Employing differential gears, the mechanism comprised four wooden gears and additional gearing connecting the differential to the wheels. As the wheels turned, the gears rotated the figure to maintain its southern alignment. Notably, the chariot necessitated manual adjustment at the start of every journey, unlike a compass, which aligns automatically.

Chinese scientists rapidly developed their technologies and learned to magnetize iron needles back in the 7th–8th centuries AD. However, for several more centuries they did not use magnetic compasses and continued to produce chariots. It is believed that they went out of use only around the year 1300.

First Vending Machine

Vending machines are older than you might think.

The first such machine was designed and produced by Heron of Alexandria in the 1st century BC.

It dispensed holy water in exchange for coins. pic.twitter.com/t4O8GqFIx8

— Inquisitive (@curious_va) March 1, 2023

Vending machines, which have become a common attribute of modern life, owe their appearance to the ancient Greek scientist Heron. One of the best ancient mathematicians and inventors, he lived and worked in Alexandria. Heron developed many remarkable ancient mechanisms, and even the first steam engine of its kind.

His vending machine was a very modern mechanism for dispensing holy water. To use it, a person had to insert a coin into a special slot. Then it fell onto a tray connected to a lever. The weight of the coin opened the valve, from which water flowed out for the liars. Eventually, a coin would then slide off the tray, causing the lever to return to its place.

Astrolabe, Ancient Mechanism that Could Measure Time

Alexandria was home to another brilliant ancient inventor, Ptolemy, who invented a mechanism that could measured time.

This ancient instrument for timekeeping and celestial observation included the planispheric type, allowing astronomers to compute the positions of the Sun and stars relative to the horizon and meridian.

Originating in the 6th century, astrolabes gained prominence in the early Middle Ages across Europe and the Islamic world. It become crucial for maritime navigation by the mid-15th century before the emergence of sextants. Ranging from 3 to 18 inches, the typical planispheric astrolabe was predominantly crafted from brass or iron. It featured the base plate with celestial coordinates, the open-pattern disk illustrating stellar maps, and the alidade used for celestial sightings.

The astrolabe’s intricate construction and widespread usage underscored its significance as a multifunctional scientific tool in the medieval period. Its application extended beyond astronomy, finding utility in fields such as geography, timekeeping, and surveying.

According to a long-standing urban legend, the Mycenaeans did not build temples but worshiped outdoors under open skies. This claim appears in popular books, casual discussions, and also surfaced in earlier scholarly interpretations of Bronze Age Greece.

However, archaeological evidence challenges this view. Material finds, Linear B texts, and remains of cult architecture all point in a different direction. The Mycenaeans did not restrict worship to open-air rituals alone; they also used structured sacred spaces within buildings. In fact, they developed organized religious environments that functioned in ways comparable to early temples.

The origin of the “open-air only” idea

The idea that the Mycenaeans worshiped exclusively outdoors stems from early comparisons with Minoan Crete. Some early researchers assumed that Bronze Age societies possessed no formal religious architecture and interpreted the absence of large, classical-style temples as evidence of informal worship practices.

In addition, early archaeologists often struggled to identify religious buildings at Mycenaean sites. Many structures appeared domestic or administrative in character, leading to an underestimation of their possible ritual functions. Over time, these assumptions produced a simplified narrative suggesting that Mycenaean religion remained primitive or underdeveloped. In this interpretation, formal temple construction was seen as something that emerged only in later Greek civilization.

Today, this view is considered outdated and overlooks both textual and archaeological evidence. It also projects later Greek architectural expectations onto an earlier cultural and historical context.

What the Linear B tablets reveal about Mycenaean temples and religious practice

The Iliad already refers to a temple within the Trojan citadel that houses the statue of a goddess, suggesting that structured sacred spaces were part of early Greek religious imagination. Beyond literary tradition, the Linear B tablets provide some of the strongest evidence against the “open-air-only” interpretation. These tablets preserve administrative and religious records from Mycenaean palace centers, offering a rare direct glimpse into how cult activity was organized.

They record offerings and mention deities associated with the later Greek pantheon, including Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Artemis, and Hermes, while also documenting the management of cult resources by officials. This points to a system of structured worship rather than purely spontaneous outdoor ritual.

Importantly, the tablets often connect deities with specific locations, referring to sanctuaries, priests, and offerings tied to defined, organized spaces. This suggests that religious practice was not confined to natural settings but also embedded within institutional environments. Taken together, this written evidence weakens the idea of exclusively outdoor worship. Instead, it reveals planning, hierarchy, and dedicated sacred functions within Mycenaean religious life.

Archaeological evidence of cult spaces

Archaeology strengthens this conclusion. Excavations at Mycenaean sites have uncovered buildings with clearly identifiable ritual functions, including altars, offering areas, and religious artifacts. One of the most significant examples comes from Mycenae itself. The so-called “Tsountas House” provides key evidence for structured cult activity within a designed landscape.

The Tsountas House is located near the citadel of Mycenae and was first excavated during early investigations led by Christos Tsountas. The structure dates to the Late Bronze Age. At first glance, the building does not resemble a later classical temple, lacking the monumental stone columns associated with later Greek religious architecture. However, its interior evidence tells a different story. Researchers such as Kim Shelton have identified signs of ritual activity within the structure, including figurines, offering vessels, and spatial arrangements that suggest ceremonial use. The layout also indicates controlled movement through the building, reinforcing the impression of organized ritual practice.

Taken together, these features are significant. They show that Mycenaeans used enclosed architectural spaces for ritual purposes, effectively functioning as cult centers. Worship was not confined solely to mountains, peak sanctuaries, or open courtyards. Instead, structured sacred environments existed within administrative and residential settings. This evidence points to a broader religious system in which cult activity, palace administration, offerings recorded in Linear B texts, and outdoor sacred landscapes all formed interconnected components of Mycenaean religious life rather than isolated or competing practices.

Why the “no temples during the Mycenaean period” narrative fails

The “no temples” narrative fails largely because it relies on a narrow, anachronistic definition of what a temple must be. If one expects Mycenaean sacred architecture to resemble later classical Doric structures, then such buildings will not appear in the archaeological record. However, this expectation sets a false standard. It overlooks architectural evolution over time and ignores the cultural and functional differences between the Bronze Age and later Greek periods.

Mycenaean sacred architecture followed its own internal logic. Ritual spaces were frequently integrated into palatial complexes or elite residences, and smaller, multi-functional buildings often served religious purposes in place of large, freestanding temples. For this reason, the absence of classical-style temples does not imply the absence of religious architecture.

At the same time, Mycenaeans did perform rituals outdoors, likely at natural features such as hills, caves, and mountain peaks. Outdoor worship was an important component of Bronze Age religious practice, a pattern that continued into later Greek tradition. Nonetheless, outdoor ritual activity did not exclude indoor sacred spaces. Rather, both forms coexisted and fulfilled different roles within a broader religious system.

Mycenaean religion combined palace-based cult administration, offerings recorded in Linear B texts, enclosed ritual spaces, and outdoor sacred sites in the landscape. Together, these elements formed a structured, multi-layered system operating across both constructed environments and the natural world. This combination underscores not only complexity and organization but also continuity with later Greek religion. Structured sacred space did not emerge suddenly in the Classical period but developed gradually from earlier Bronze Age practices.

Why the myth persists today

The persistence of the “no temples” myth can be traced to three main sources. First, early scholarship shaped the expectations of later generations. Once an interpretation enters textbooks and reference works, it tends to persist, even when new evidence complicates or overturns it.

Secondly, the very word “temple” carries a strong classical bias. Readers often imagine columns, symmetry, and monumental marble architecture. When such features are absent in the Bronze Age record, this is interpreted as a lack of temples rather than a difference in architectural form.

Lastly, simplified narratives tend to spread more easily than nuanced archaeological interpretations. The idea of “primitive outdoor worship” is easy to remember and communicate, whereas the actual picture is more complex and layered. In reality, the Mycenaeans did not rely exclusively on open-air worship but also built and used structured indoor spaces for ritual activity that can reasonably be understood as early temple forms.

The claim that Mycenaeans lacked organized religious buildings does not withstand scrutiny. It reflects early interpretive bias more than archaeological evidence. Mycenaean religion combined indoor and outdoor elements and showed early forms of institutional organization. In this sense, it laid important foundations for the development of later Greek religious architecture and practice.

The story of the ring known as the “Ring of King Minos” sounds like a tale made in Hollywood. It is a mix of ancient Greek history, mythology, and a plot involving a poor boy, a cunning priest, an English archaeologist, and hidden treasure.

The story begins in 1928, when a boy, Michalis Papadakis (1918-1974), accidentally found a ring at the archaeological site of Knossos. The place of discovery alone meant that the ring certainly had a very long history attached to it probably even going back to the Minoan civilization.

Indeed, several decades later, the shiny, gold, seal ring proved to be 3,500 years old (1,500 to 1,400 BC), as archaeologists assured him, and his was the most significant discovery of Minoan Civilization.

The boy’s father, a destitute farmer named Emmanouil, for some unknown reason, hid the ring from his wife and, for another unknown reason, two years later, he handed it over to the village priest, Father Nikolaos Polakis. Yet, before giving it away, he carved a line on the ring with his knife in order to mark its originality.

Father Polakis initially presented it to English archaeologist Sir Arthur Evans with the intention of selling it. However, there was no deal struck between the two since the priest demanded an astronomical amount of money.

In 1933 or 1934, Father Polakis decided to take the ring to the Heraklion Museum. At the time, the distinguished archaeologists, Nikolaos Platon and Spyridon Marinatos, were on the staff of the institution. Platon decided that the ring was genuine while Marinatos believed the ring was a fake.

Since the two archaeologists could not come to an agreement, they decided it was best to return the ring to the priest.

However, Platon kept a copy of the ring by casting it in plasticine. The cast was later located in Platon’s archive. Several years later, he manifested a new interest in the ring and returned to the priest to ask for it. Father Polakis told him that he had given it to his wife for safekeeping, but she had lost it.

Minos ring depicts three themes

Platon wrote a treatise on the ring saying that it depicts three themes: the Minoans’ rule of the seas (“thalassocracy”), tree worship (dendrolatry), and a goddess descending from heaven to earth and getting into a row boat.

There are other, more recent interpretations of the depictions of the ring including the worship of goddesses, such as Mother Dimitra, and offerings to the Great Mother Rhea and the Great Mother Artemis.

For some time, the ring remained lost. The only information about the ring came from the copies that had been made and a number of archaeological reports which were associated with those copies.

Many years later, when Father Polakis was in his final days, he felt great regret about the “disappearance” of the precious ring. He called Evangelia Papadakis, the wife of the farmer Emmanouil, and apologized for lying to her family. He admitted that he had actually sold the ring to Evans, the English archaeologist, for 100,000 drachmas back in 1938.
However, that was one last lie by the cunning priest. What he had actually sold to Evans was a fine replica of the ring.

Evans had returned to England with the belief that he had bought the actual ring, along with a copy, and donated both, along with other precious artifacts, to the Ashmolean Museum. Today, two replicas of the legendary ring continue to be exhibited at the Ashmolean.

The story of the ring was forgotten for decades, but in the early 2000s, Giorgos Kazantzis, a retired police officer, inherited the house of the priest who was the last person in Greece who had had possession of the priceless artifact.

During renovation work, Kazantzis found a jar hidden inside the wall next to the fireplace. Inside the jar was a ring, which indeed proved to be the original Ring of King Minos. It even had the scratch made by Papadakis over seventy years ago.

Kazantzis delivered the precious artifact to the state, and in 2002, the Central Archaeological Council and a panel of expert archaeologists confirmed the authenticity of the ring. The actual monetary value of the ring was estimated to be €400,000 although its cultural value is incalculable.

Yet, for finding the ring and promptly delivering it to the appropriate authorities, Kazantzis was given a measly finder’s fee of €440.

Today, the priceless, gold Minoan ring is exhibited in all its splendor at the Heraklion Archaeological Museum.

When the philosopher Karl Marx set out to unravel the mysteries of value, exchange, and labor in capitalist society, he found a surprising intellectual ally in Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher who lived two millennia earlier. Despite their different historical contexts, both thinkers examined how value arises not inherently from things but from their social relations—especially through the lens of use and exchange.

Marx, in Capital, openly acknowledged Aristotle’s importance. Not only did Aristotle lay the groundwork for distinguishing use-value from exchange-value but his reflections on early human society, property, and the role of labor and technology revealed a conceptual framework that Marx would radicalize for modern critique.

Use-value and exchange-value: Aristotle’s anticipation

Aristotle’s analysis of value in Politics distinguishes between two uses of a commodity. One is proper and natural while the other is improper or derivative. He writes:

“Every commodity has two uses: both belong to the thing itself, but not in the same manner—one is the proper use, the other is not. For example, a shoe serves either to be worn or to be exchanged; both are uses of the shoe, for he who gives a shoe in exchange to someone who needs it, receiving in return money or food, uses the shoe as a shoe, but not according to its proper use, for it was not made to be exchanged.”

This distinction—between use-value and exchange-value—is a cornerstone of Marx’s analysis. For Marx, this Aristotelian formulation prefigures what he calls the “value-form” of the commodity. Commodities are useful in particular ways (use-value), but also enter into a social system of equivalence when exchanged (exchange-value).

Marx directly builds on this by showing that exchange-value does not exist inherently in an object but arises through the abstraction of labor—because human labor makes different useful things commensurable. Aristotle notes that a shoe does not exist for exchange. Marx took this insight and asked: What kind of society inverts this logic and makes objects valuable only in proportion to their exchangeability rather than their utility?

From the household to the marketplace: society before exchange

Aristotle’s theory of the household (oikos) as the first form of society was essential for Marx’s historical materialism. In Politics, Aristotle describes early society as beginning with families. In these families, property was communal and exchange unnecessary. It was only as the population grew and self-sufficiency gave way to interdependence that markets and money emerged.

Marx adopts this trajectory in Capital and his Grundrisse notebooks, writing that commodity exchange is not a timeless activity. Instead, it is a historically specific development that reflects changes in social relations and property forms. The transition from common property to private ownership and from useful production to production for exchange is the material foundation of class society.

In Aristotle, we already see the seeds of this analysis. He distinguishes between natural wealth-getting (production for use) and unnatural chrematistics (the accumulation of wealth for its own sake). Marx seizes upon this distinction to critique capitalism as a system in which the unnatural pursuit of profit replaces human need as the goal of production.

The machine and slavery

One of the most striking moments in Capital (Vol. I) occurs when Marx discusses machinery and automation. Here, he ironically invokes Aristotle’s dream that if tools could operate themselves, no slaves would be needed:

“If—dreamed Aristotle, the greatest thinker of antiquity—if every tool could perform its task at command or even by anticipation, like the statues of Daedalus that moved of their own accord, or the tripods of Hephaestus that spontaneously began their sacred work, if the shuttles of the loom wove by themselves, then master craftsmen would not need assistants, nor masters slaves.”

This vision did not remain uniquely Aristotelian. Antipatros, a Greek poet from the era of Cicero, hailed the invention of the watermill—the earliest rudimentary form of productive machinery—not simply as a technical advancement but as a social revolution. He praised it as the liberator of enslaved women who had been condemned to grind grain by hand. He envisioned it as the usher of a new golden age of human dignity and freedom.

In these ancient myths and poetic praises, technology is seen not merely as efficiency but as emancipation. The ancients, despite their slave-based economies, understood that the highest purpose of tools was to free people from servitude.

Marx’s irony and the betrayal of the promise of automation

Marx, however, saw this ancient hope turned upside down in modern capitalist society. In his words, what was supposed to free labor had become its jailer:

“Ah, those idolaters! They knew nothing of political economy or Christianity, as discovered by clever Bastiat and even cleverer McCulloch. They failed to understand, among other things, that the machine is the most reliable means for lengthening the working day.”

Here, Marx mocks the liberal economists of his time. Frédéric Bastiat and John Ramsay McCulloch, champions of laissez-faire capitalism, celebrated mechanization without recognizing its role in intensifying exploitation. Unlike the “idol-worshiping pagans,” who at least had the imagination to conceive of automation as a force for liberation, these modern theorists lacked even that mythical foresight.

Marx continues with biting irony:

“They failed to understand, among other things, that the machine is the most reliable means for lengthening the working day.

Thus the strange phenomenon arises in the history of modern industry. That the machine, the most powerful instrument for reducing labor time, becomes the most unfailing means of converting the whole life of the worker and his family into labor-time for capital’s valorization.”

The true paradox for Marx is that mechanization offers a means to liberate humanity but capital instead weaponizes it to intensify exploitation. The ancients envisioned automation as a means of human emancipation. Capitalism uses it to deepen alienation and dependency.

The irony is profound: the ancients dreamed of freedom through the machine, and capitalism delivered machines that reinforce dependency. In this way, Marx reclaims the ancient vision but also shows how the promise of automation has been betrayed.

Aristotle and Marx: From ancient slavery to modern compulsion

Marx’s dialogue with Aristotle was not just academic—it was dialectical. He admired Aristotle’s clarity in distinguishing between types of value and his historical insight into the development of exchange. However, Marx also showed how the slave economy of antiquity historically constrained Aristotle’s ideas.

Ironically, in an age in which full automatism is increasingly possible, the prevailing economic model continues to reproduce the conditions that Aristotle associated with slavery—not through direct ownership of people but through economic compulsion and structural inequality. In that sense, Marx saw in Aristotle both the seed of critical insight and the limit of pre-modern social theory.

Hence, while Aristotle could not imagine that labor determines value in commodities, he sensed something essential: that value is not a thing but a relation and that social forms of labor determine the shape of society itself.

Alexander the Great’s (356-323 BC) death meant his vision for a Greco-Persian Empire was extinguished with him—or was it?

A hodgepodge of East and West, Mithridates’ Pontic Empire emerges as a compelling possibility of what Alexander’s empire could’ve been, a faint apparition of that fleeting dream.

Alexander 2.0

Mithridates (135–63 BC) was the inheritor of two cultures and, naturally, an incarnation of two worlds. He delighted in his Macedonian heritage as much as his Persian forbearers.

Claiming Macedonian ancestry on one side and Persian dynastic lineage on the other, Mithridates used his mixed descent to reveal the commonalities between his diverse subjects.

Taking on Alexander’s mantle of global empire, Mithridates envisioned an alternative to Roman supremacy, a new world order.

To achieve this ambitious aim, the Pontian King united his Greek, Anatolian, and Persian subjects under an anti-Roman cross-cultural coalition.

The result of this cooperation was three wars mounted against Rome, wars that escalated to the point of genocide.

How could he amass such a diverse following against such a formidable foe?

Mithridates took a page from Alexander’s book and embodied East and West, both in appearance and idea. 

Pontus: Alexander’s vision of empire?

Mithridates hailed from the Kingdom of Pontus, a cultural melting pot that Alexander the Great would have approved of.

The north of Pontus’s snow-clad Alps was a largely Hellenic-dominated coastline. There, Greek colonists had erected the city of Sinope, Mithridates’ capital.

The historian Strabo, himself a Pontian, claimed that it was “the most noteworthy of the cities in the region.”

South of the Alps was known as Katpatuka (land of horses) by the Iranians and, later, Cappadocia by the Greeks. There, villages predominated apart from a few settlements, such as Amaseia, Strabo’s hometown, and Cabeira.

While Hellenic culture dominated the coast, the Cappadocian hinterland preserved its old Anatolian non-Greek heritage. Rostovtzeff (1932), a pioneer in Pontic history, described the Hellenic influence around the Black Sea as “a thin Greek shell around a hard native kernel.”

The third influence on the region was Iranian. The enduring relics of Persian rule would have been visible to many a Hellenistic Pontian. Strabo says that the Pontic people took sacred vows at the state temple, Zela, which were dedicated to Persian deities: Anaitis, Omanus, and Anadatus.

Moreover, Zeus Stratios, most likely a syncretic reincarnation of Ahura Mazda, received lavish offerings from Persian Kings, which Pontian rulers, including Mithridates Eupator, continued. The continuation of Persian religious customs well after an eclipse of Achaemenid authority attests to the impression Persian presence had made on Pontic royalty and their subjects.

In the subsequent Hellenistic period, the increasing pace of Hellenization of the kingdom meant that the Mithridates Dynasty had to evolve.  There needed to be a balance between the new incoming wave of this ancient form of globalization with their Perso-Anatolian traditions that still held sway in their domain. 

Divine descent

Mithridates Eupator’s dual lineages afforded him illustrious ancestors and a unique hybrid set of dynastic customs. He was a Helleno-Persian Prince who practiced mixed religious rites.

Mithradates divine connections are well in accordance with Alexander the Great’s own claims. Like the Pontic King, Alexander claimed Heracles and Dionysus, among other numinous figures, as ancestors.

Consequently, the Pontic King embodied redemptive qualities resonating in the Greek and Perso-Anatolian worlds. For the Greeks, he established a mythical connection with Dionysus, the god of liberation and new beginnings, and took the theonym Mithridates Eupator Dionysus.

Likewise, Mithridates claimed heritage from Herakles, who emancipated the titan Prometheus, humanity’s creator. On the other hand, Mithridates’ star-signaling birth was said to fulfill Persian prophecies of a coming savior from the East, as did his name, “Mithras-sent.” 

Global principles

In addition to religious mediation, Mithridates weaponized the growing resentment of his subjects. Just like Alexander’s vision for his diverse empire, the Pontian King tried to respect Greek and Iranian values.

Both Greeks and Perso-Anatolians were chafing under Roman occupation. In mainland Greece and Anatolia, the common hatred towards Roman rule provoked a transcultural antagonism against Roman hegemony.

Debt accrued by Roman taxation hindered asa or Truth, a prominent Persian tenet. For the Greeks, Roman occupation was seen as compromising their eleutheria, or freedom, which was fundamental to Greek identity.

Mithridates acknowledged these grievances in his speeches, along with coins and other allusions. By showing sensitivity to both cultures, the Pontian King illustrated how compatible Iranian and Greek cultures could be.

This may be surprising, considering the tumultuous history that plagued the relations between Greeks and Iranians. Egregious crimes were committed in Athens by the Persians and by Greeks in Persepolis at Alexander’s instigation as punishment.

Yet Mithridates successfully harmonized the two cultures, as Alexander the Great’s policies aimed to accomplish.

Was Mithridates’ Pontian kingdom what Alexander’s empire could have been?

Sensitive to Greek and Perso-Anatolian culture, Mithridates entangled much of the Eastern Mediterranean in opposition to Rome. Mithridates carried on Alexander’s vision for an international empire even though he was unsuccessful in his wars against Rome. By doing so, the Pontian king proved Alexander the Great’s Helleno-Persian hypothesis was possible.

Alexander’s vision for joining East and West wasn’t an idyllic dream but was ultimately an achievable reality. 

In Homer’s Iliad, Thetis plays an important role in shaping the destiny of her son, Achilles. As a goddess, she intervenes at key moments in the epic, pushing the Greek hero to alter the course of events.

Although Thetis appears less frequently than many of the warriors and gods who dominate the battlefield at Troy, her actions influence some of the most significant developments in the poem. As a sea goddess and the mother of the greatest Greek warrior, she occupies a unique position between the divine and mortal worlds. She cannot prevent Achilles from dying, since the Fates have already decreed it, yet she repeatedly intervenes to protect his honor, ease his suffering, and ensure that his glory endures.

Through Thetis’ character, Homer explores themes of maternal love, fate, mortality, glory, and divine power. The first major instance of Thetis helping Achilles occurs in Book 1. After Agamemnon captures Briseis, a captive woman awarded to Achilles as a war prize, the Greek hero feels deeply dishonored and withdraws from battle. In his grief and anger, Achilles calls upon his mother. Thetis immediately rises from the sea to comfort him and listen to his complaint.

This scene reveals the extraordinary bond between mother and son. Unlike many divine figures in Greek mythology, Thetis responds with sympathy and tenderness. She understands Achilles’ suffering because she is painfully aware of his short lifespan. Her lament for him reflects a mother’s helplessness in the face of fate.

Thetis petitions Zeus to turn events in favor of Troy

After hearing Achilles’ request, Thetis undertakes one of the most consequential actions in the epic. She travels to Olympus and petitions Zeus to punish the Greeks by granting success to the Trojans. Her aim is not simply revenge but the restoration of Achilles’ honor. Zeus eventually agrees, and his decision alters the course of the war. The Trojans begin to gain the upper hand, while the Greeks suffer devastating losses. Through this intervention, Thetis helps Achilles achieve the recognition he believes Agamemnon has denied him.

This episode demonstrates the extent of Thetis’ influence among the gods. Although she cannot alter fate itself, she is capable of shaping the chain of events that leads toward it. Her appeal to Zeus succeeds in part because of a previous favor she had done for him. In this sense, her assistance rests not only on maternal devotion but also on her standing within the divine order. Achilles’ withdrawal from battle would have remained a private grievance without Thetis’ intervention. Instead, it escalates into a crisis that engulfs the entire Greek army.

The second major instance of Thetis helping Achilles occurs after the death of Patroclus. Patroclus, Achilles’ closest companion, enters battle wearing Achilles’ armor and is killed by Hector. When Achilles learns of his friend’s death, he is overwhelmed by grief and rage. Once again, Thetis hears her son’s cries and goes to him. This scene is among the most emotional in the Iliad. Thetis is aware that Achilles’ decision to return to battle will lead directly to his own death, yet she does not attempt to stop him. Instead, she offers comfort and practical assistance.

Hephaestus forges the invincible shield of Achilles

Achilles cannot immediately rejoin the fighting because Hector has confiscated his armor. Recognizing his need, Thetis travels to the forge of Hephaestus and requests new armor for her son. Hephaestus responds by crafting the magnificent shield of Achilles, one of the most celebrated objects in world literature. The shield depicts scenes of war and peace, labor and celebration, and life and death. With this armor, Thetis enables Achilles to return to battle and fulfill his heroic destiny.

This act of assistance is particularly significant because it highlights the limits of divine power. Thetis can secure the finest armor ever made, but she cannot save Achilles from mortality. Her help therefore reflects the tragic paradox that every action she takes to aid her son also brings him closer to the fate she most fears. The armor allows Achilles to defeat Hector, but it also marks the final stage of his journey toward death.

Thetis’ role after Hector’s death further underscores her importance. Achilles becomes consumed by grief and rage, dragging Hector’s body around the tomb of Patroclus. The gods disapprove of this behavior and decide that Hector must be returned to his family. Zeus sends Thetis to deliver his command to Achilles. She successfully persuades her son to release the body in exchange for ransom, helping restore moral balance and preparing the tale for closure.

This final intervention reveals another dimension of Thetis’ assistance. Earlier, she helped Achilles gain honor through vengeance; now she helps him regain humanity through compassion. Her influence guides him from destructive rage toward acceptance. The reconciliation between Achilles and Priam, one of the most moving scenes in ancient literature, would not have occurred without Thetis serving as the messenger between gods and mortals.

The complexity of Thetis, the mother of Achilles

Modern scholars have emphasized the complexity of Thetis’ character. Rather than portraying her simply as a nurturing mother, recent studies highlight her power and agency. Thetis is more than a grieving parent. She is a divine force capable of influencing both Olympus and the battlefield for the benefit of her son. This is evident in actions such as her request to Hephaestus to forge an impenetrable suit of armor for Achilles.

At the same time, scholars frequently stress the tragic nature of her motherhood. Classicist Emily Wilson observes that she has come to view the Iliad as “a poem about the pain of a goddess mother who adores her mortal child and can’t protect him.” This insight captures the emotional core of Thetis’ role in the epic. Despite her divine status, she remains powerless as a mother in the face of fate. Her interventions can shape events, but they cannot prevent the loss she knows is imminent.

Other scholars have also noted that grief defines Thetis’ presence throughout the epic poem. Classicist Serena Cannavale describes Thetis in the Iliad as “a figure of grief,” emphasizing that her sorrow is present long before Achilles actually dies. Her laments anticipate the tragedy that hangs over the entire narrative.

Ultimately, Thetis helps Achilles in three essential ways: she restores his honor by persuading Zeus to favor the Trojans, she equips him for revenge by obtaining new armor from Hephaestus, and she guides him back toward humanity by conveying Zeus’s command to release Hector’s body to Priam. These actions shape the central events of the Iliad and reveal the profound connection between mother and son. Yet the tragedy of Thetis lies in the fact that her power cannot overcome destiny. She can comfort Achilles, protect his reputation, and secure his everlasting glory, but she cannot save his life.

For this reason, Thetis embodies the tension between divine power and human mortality. Every time she helps Achilles, she demonstrates her love, yet every act of assistance also reminds readers that fate is stronger than even the gods. Through Thetis, Homer presents a moving portrait of maternal devotion in the face of inevitable loss, making her one of the emotional centers of the Iliad.

For many centuries, the ancient Macedonians lived on the fringes of the Greek world far removed from the prominent city-states of the south. For this reason, many have called their status as Greeks into question. Famously, only the Greeks could participate in the ancient Olympic Games. So then, what was the status of this northern tribe in that regard? Did the Macedonians participate in the ancient Greek Olympic Games or not?

The early years of the Olympic Games

According to the earliest tradition, the Greek hero Heracles founded the Olympic Games. The ancient historians placed the founding of this athletic competition in 776 BCE. For the first two centuries, there is no evidence that the Olympic Games involved the Macedonians. Why is this?

Put simply, the Macedonians generally did not have much to do with the Greeks of the south due to the fact that they lived so far north. This applied to numerous aspects of the Greek world and not just to the Olympics. They were generally quite isolated in terms of socio-political developments even though they worshipped the same gods and had the same traditions and language as the rest of the Greeks.

For this reason, it is no surprise that the Macedonians apparently did not, initially, express any interest in participating in the Olympic Games. They took place in Olympia at Elis in the Peloponnese far to the south of Macedonia.

King Alexander I, the first Macedonian in the Olympics

This changed at the turn of the 5th century BCE. At this time, King Alexander I of Macedonia wanted to participate in the athletic competition of Olympia. When he attempted to enter, the Hellanodikai, the judges of the competition, denied his request. There was, naturally, prejudice against Alexander’s people since they lived so far away from the rest of the Greeks.

However, Alexander was able to convince the judges to allow him to participate. He pointed out that his dynasty was founded by Perdiccas, the son of Temenus, a descendant of Heracles (Hercules). After hearing this explanation, the judges accepted that Alexander was a true Greek.

After Alexander participated in the Olympic Games, various other Macedonians also began doing so. It seems that he initiated an interest in the competition in his homeland.

Macedonians in the Olympic Games

At first, participation in the Olympic Games among Macedonians was limited to the royal dynasty. After Alexander I, there is a record of King Archelaus I participating. He competed in a chariot race and was victorious. This occurred in 408 BCE, still long before the expansion of Macedonian hegemony to all the Greek city-states.

In the following century, King Philip II also competed in the Games. He was the father of Alexander the Great. Philip actually participated three times. All three times, two of which were chariot races, he was the winner. These three victories occurred in 356, 352, and 348 BCE.

Just after this era, we find records of non-royal Macedonians participating in the Olympic Games. Perhaps King Philip’s impressive series of victories had something to do with this. In 328 BCE, there is a record of a man named Cliton winning the important running race. Based on the available records, he was the first non-royal Macedonian to win in the Games.

After Cliton, we find records of various other Macedonians participating in and winning many of the events in the Olympic Games. In fact, we find an average of approximately one Macedonian winner per decade over the next six decades. Additionally, we need to consider the fact that we only have records of the winners. Likely, many other Macedonians participated in the Olympic Games during this period, and we certainly know that they continued to do so thereafter.

The Ancient Greeks were active travelers, despite the dangers of land travel and the fear of highwaymen. Sea travel required ample supplies and means.

A fascinating archaeological find exhibited in the Agora Museum in Athens is rectangular clay tablets with inscribed names and occupations that purportedly served as travel documents in antiquity.

Most travelers were aristocrats and well-to-do citizens who traveled to witness and experience the wonders of the ancient world, and other famous places and sights.

Others traveled for pilgrimage; healing in sanctuaries such as the Sanctuary of Asclepius in Olympia, the Sanctuary of Apollo on Delos Island, or to attend religious festivals and monumental athletic events like the Olympic Games at Olympia or the Panathenaic Games in Athens.

Merchants also traveled to other parts of Greece, or across the Mediterranean and beyond to promote and sell their goods to destinations such as Egypt, Asia Minor, the Middle East, and the Black Sea.

The Ancient Greeks were curious about the world and had a great desire to learn. For that reason, they held travel in high regard. The most famous epic journeys, such as Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey or Jason’s expedition to retrieve the Golden Fleece, had protagonists who had to travel far and undergo trials to achieve their goals.

In their long journeys. They experienced great adventures, encountered grave dangers, and saw things and, above all, places they would never see if confined in their birthplace all their lives. These epics celebrated heroic adventures through travel.

Then people from all over Greece and beyond would travel far to consult the oracle at Delphi and plan their future.

Also, it was through travel that ancient Greeks discovered places worth exploring and exploiting, such as uninhabited fertile lands or seaside areas with great potential, where they established trading colonies.

Overall, the accounts of travelers provided valuable information about the contemporary world. In modern day, these accounts help us understand the world during that period.

Practical issues of traveling in antiquity

In addition, Greeks who traveled frequently brought back new ideas, Eastern tastes in clothing, jewelry, and foods, as well as architectural trends.

The ancient Greeks discovered new lands and established trading colonies across the Mediterranean, Asia Minor, and the Black Sea from the 8th through the 6th centuries. Many of these have evolved into the great cities that still stand today.

The most famous of the colonies were those in Magna Graecia, in today’s southern Italy and Sicily (Calabria, Apulia, Basilicata, Campania, Syracuse, Tarentum, Sybaris, and Croton), where the Greek element is still alive today, especially in the language.

Other important ancient Greek colonies were Massalia (modern-day Marseilles in France), Cyrene in Libya, and Byzantium on the Bosporus Strait, which later became Constantinople.

Greek philosophers on travelling

Several ancient Greek philosophers valued travelling as a means to gain knowledge and experience. Encountering different cultures and experiencing new environments broadens one’s perspective. Great figures like Thales and Pythagoras traveled to Egypt and other regions to study and acquire knowledge.

Aristotle believed that empirical observation and practical experience are good sources of knowledge. Provided, though, that one had the foundations in reason and virtue through formal education. Otherwise, one could not learn simply by travelling. The philosopher is known as saying, not in the exact words, that travel is education for the young and experience for the old.

For those who are older, Aristotle believed that they accumulate experience and wisdom by travelling. They reflect on their lives, gain new insights into the world, and may appreciate life more profoundly.

“Those who wish to know about the world must learn about it in its particular details,” said Heraclitus, the Greek philosopher from Ephesus. The quote implies that a man should travel to learn about the world with his own eyes. Heraclitus believed that the world is constantly changing: “The only thing that is constant is change,” is one of his famous quotes.

With his phrase “τα πάντα ρεί” (everything flows), Heraclitus said that the world is in perpetual motion; therefore, man should be constantly moving as well.

Plato is known for having traveled extensively, visiting Italy, Sicily, Egypt, and Libya. The reason he traveled so much was his disappointment with Athenian society. He was exposed to new cultures and ideas during his travels, which influenced his philosophical development and his Theory of Forms.

Other philosophers who traveled extensively were Thales of Miletus, who visited Egypt to study science and mathematics. Pythagoras traveled to Egypt, Israel, Babylonia, and possibly India. Democritus traveled in Asia, Egypt, and possibly India and Ethiopia.

Socrates, on the other hand, was against travelling and he never left Athens, his hometown. The father of philosophy, for many, believed that man should only make internal journeys. He emphasized self-knowledge and ethical development, which he believed were best pursued through internal reflection and dialogue.

The Minoan civilization was a rich and relatively advanced culture centered on ancient Crete during the Bronze Age. However, they did not refer to themselves as the Minoans. This is a modern name coined by British archaeologist Sir Arthur Evans in the early 20th century. What was the ancient name of the Minoans? What did they call themselves, and what did other nations call them?

Ancient Greek name for the Minoans

There are no Greek historical texts which describe the Bronze Age Minoan civilisation. However, texts from the Archaic Period, such as Homer’s Odyssey, mention a people on Crete called the Eteocretans.

This name means ‘true Cretans’. Later writers, such as the historian Diodorus of the first century BCE, viewed them as the native inhabitants of Crete. Therefore, it is likely that the Eteocretans were the descendants of the Minoans.

The foundation of this term can be traced back to the Bronze Age. A Linear B inscription from Pylos dating to c. 1300 BCE refers to Crete as ‘Ke-re-te’, reconstructed as ‘Kretes’.

Given that this dates from long after the Mycenaean Greeks had conquered Minoan Crete, this cannot be used to show what the Mycenaean Greeks called the Minoans, nor what they called their island.

The Bible’s name for the Minoans

Let us now consider what the Bible calls the Minoans. In the Book of Genesis, the tenth chapter contains the famous Table of Nations. This shows the genealogy of the world’s nations. Included among this list is a reference to Caphtorim, one of the sons of Mizraim.

Mizraim, according to his name and family members, is considered the forefather of the Egyptians. His son Caphtorim is meant to be the forefather of a nation that resided in a place called Caphtor in the Hebrew Scriptures.

Biblical references to Caphtor make it an island and the homeland of the Philistines. Archaeological evidence clearly shows that the Philistines originated from the region of the Aegean Sea.

This is further supported by the fact that the Bible associates the Philistines with a nation called the Cherethites. The latter ethnonym appears to be synonymous with ‘Cretans’, since the Greek Septuagint translated it as such.

Therefore, given this information, it is evident that the island of Caphtor in the Bible is Crete. Therefore, the Caphtorim, or people of Caphtor, is the Bible’s name for the Minoans. Since the reference to the Cherethites only appears in accounts set after the Mycenaean Greeks had conquered Minoan Crete, it is impossible to say whether ‘Cherethites’ is another name for the Minoans or a name for the Greeks of Crete instead.

What other Middle Eastern nations called the Minoans

Were the ancient Hebrew Scriptures of the Bible alone in using this term, Caphtorim, for the Minoans? The evidence shows that they were not. We find variations of this ethnonym in the records of several other Middle East nations.

An 18th-century BCE document from the city of Mari in Syria refers to the island as Kaptara. It uses this term in various contexts, including referencing “Caphtorite fabric.” This suggests that the island was well known by that name in the 18th century BCE, at least within Syria.

However, was this just the name of the island itself? One of the records in the Mari Tablets uses this term referring to a certain man’s ethnicity. This suggests that the ancient inhabitants of Syria, just as in the Bible, used this term for the Minoans as a people, and not merely as the name of the island.

In later centuries, the same term appears in Assyrian records, dating long after the fall of the Minoans. This shows that it was not limited to one particular civilization. Rather, it seems to have been used (at least among some nations) for the inhabitants of Crete regardless of ethnicity.

Egyptian records

In Egyptian records, we find the name ‘Keftiu’ used about Minoan Crete. This is used for Crete in general, even long after the Mycenaean Greeks had conquered it. The fact that this was the term for Crete is clear from the itinerary lists found in Egypt in the New Kingdom period.

Amenhotep III directly associated Keftiu with the place names ‘Knossos‘ and ‘Amnissos’, two of the most prominent cities on Bronze Age Crete. This leaves no doubt that Keftiu was the Egyptian name for that island.

The name ‘Keftiu’ is very similar to ‘Caphtor’ and ‘Kaptara’. The only substantial difference is the absence of the ‘r’ at the end of the Egyptian version. Nevertheless, this Egyptian form is so similar to the others that most scholars recognise that they must be cognate with each other.

In other words, ‘Keftiu’ is the Egyptian spelling of the same word recorded in the Bible as ‘Caphtor’ and in other Middle Eastern records as ‘Kaptara’.

What did the Minoans call themselves?

Unfortunately, we cannot be completely sure what the Minoans called themselves. The reason is that Minoan records use a script called Linear A. Linguists have not yet been able to decipher it, meaning that we cannot read the Minoan inscriptions.

This does not mean that there is no indication as to what they called themselves. The fact that nations as far apart as Egypt and Syria used a form of the same term for Crete is highly significant.

This strongly suggests that Keftiu/Capthor/Kaptara was not a name invented for Crete by any one of those outside nations. Rather, to account for this consistency across that part of the world, it seems far more likely that this came directly from the Minoans’ name for themselves.

When we consider the Egyptian evidence more closely, it becomes more likely that the Egyptians correctly preserved the name of the island. As previously noted, Egyptian records link Keftiu with the place names ‘Knossos’ and ‘Amnissos’, which were the Minoan names for those sites on Crete. If the Egyptians were able to maintain the names of those sites, it is plausible that they similarly preserved the name of the island as a whole.

Therefore, although we cannot be completely sure, it does seem very likely that the Minoans called themselves something similar to the Bible’s ‘Caphtorim’ or ‘Caphtorite’.

The dwarf elephants of the Aegean Islands represent a fascinating intersection of paleontology, archaeology, and environmental history, yet their significance during the Mycenaean period remains insufficiently explored.

These now-extinct, insular-adapted elephants provide a critical look into evolutionary biology and human-environment interaction in Bronze Age Greece.

Insular dwarfism: Evolutionary mechanisms and island biogeography

Dwarf elephants of the Aegean, such as Elephas creticus on Crete and Palaeoloxodon tiliensis on Tilos, exemplify insular dwarfism, an adaptive response to island isolation characterized by limited resources, absence of large predators, and ecological shifts.

Morphometric analyses of fossilized remains at the Department of Genetics, Evolution and Environment of the University College of London demonstrate a marked reduction in body size, skeletal robustness, and changes in dentition compared to mainland proboscideans.

These evolutionary modifications likely occurred over tens of thousands of years, culminating well before the Mycenaean era, with the last populations vanishing at the close of the Pleistocene or early Holocene. The islands’ geographical isolation, combined with fluctuating sea levels and climatic conditions, further influenced the survival and adaptation of these populations.

Archaeological correlations: Mycenaean awareness and utilization

A probable descendant of the large straight-tusked elephant (Palaeoloxodon antiquus), scholar George Theodorou claimed it walked the Earth as recently as 3,500 years ago. This is based on preliminary radiocarbon dating completed in the 1970s, which would make it the youngest surviving dwarf elephant as well as elephant in general in Europe.

Archaeological evidence suggests that Mycenaean societies were aware of—and possibly exploited—remnants of these creatures. Elephant molars and teeth, discovered in Mycenaean contexts across mainland Greece and the islands, appear to have been repurposed as raw materials for crafting tools, ornaments, or ritual objects.

The provenance of these elephant teeth is debated. They may have been derived from fossilized remains of dwarf elephants embedded in island deposits. The Mycenaeans scavenged these for durable ivory-like materials. The studies of Mycenaean artifacts employing elephant ivory or tooth, for instance, demonstrate distinct wear patterns and sourcing signatures, implying a sophisticated interaction with paleontological resources.

In an early form of “cultural paleontology,” this is evidence that megafauna contributed materially and symbolically to Bronze Age material culture. However it’s not unreasonable to suggest that the Mycenaeans may have seen living dwarf elephants, especially on remote islands such as Tilos.

Even if rare, their presence could explain the cultural reuse of elephant teeth—not just as fossil curiosities,but as materials from an animal still within human memory or possibly even within living contact. Such use is also indicative of a level of knowledge or at least recognition of these animals’ past presence, perhaps integrated into local lore or ritual symbolism.

Ecological impact and anthropogenic factors in extinction

The extinction of dwarf elephants in the Aegean is often attributed primarily to natural climatic shifts. Sea-level changes following the last Ice Age also had a significant impact. However, the intensification of human activity during the Neolithic through Mycenaean periods likely accelerated their disappearance.

Deforestation, habitat fragmentation, and hunting pressure from early agricultural communities would have placed additional stress on already vulnerable island populations. Analyzing sediment cores and pollen records in conjunction with archaeological site data indicates significant environmental transformations. These coincide with the expansion of Mycenaean influence.

Although most dwarf elephant species went extinct well before the Mycenaean period (ca. 1600–1100 BC), there is credible evidence that some may have survived into that time, potentially overlapping with early Mycenaean society.

Analytical implications: Reassessing Mycenaean interaction with prehistoric fauna

The presence of elephant teeth in Mycenaean material culture challenges traditional dichotomies separating natural history from human history. It invites reconsideration of this society’s environmental perception. Mycenaeans were not merely exploiters of living fauna but also curators of a landscape layered with prehistoric memory.

Further multidisciplinary research combining paleontology, archaeozoology, and geochemical sourcing is necessary to clarify the extent and nature of Mycenaean engagement with these extinct species. The analysis of wear patterns, isotopic signatures, and contextual associations of elephantine artifacts can yield insights into trade networks, symbolic systems, and resource utilization strategies.

Moreover, integrating the study of dwarf elephants into the broader narrative of Mycenaean civilization enriches understanding of how ancient societies conceptualized and incorporated their environmental heritage. It reveals a nuanced picture of cultural continuity and ecological awareness, bridging deep time with Bronze Age lifeways.

In the Trojan War of Greek mythology, many nations were allied with Troy to fight against the Greeks. This included many of the nations of ancient Anatolia. Perhaps the most surprising participant in the Trojan War, however, was a prince from ancient Iran. He was Memnon, best known as the Ethiopian ruler who died at the hands of Achilles in the final year of the war.

Memnon, king of the eastern Ethiopians

Since Memnon is usually remembered as being a king of the Ethiopians, how can he have been from ancient Iran? The reason is that there was more than just one group of people known to the Greeks as Ethiopians.

For example, notice the words of Greek historian Herodotus of the fifth century BCE in his description of the large army of Xerxes the Great:

“Ethiopians above Egypt and the Arabians had Arsames for commander, and the Ethiopians of the east​ (for there were two kinds of them in the army) served with the Indians.”

This shows that the Greeks recognized the existence of Ethiopians outside of Africa. Specifically, these other Ethiopians lived in the east, evidently not too far from India. Since Memnon was the king of the Ethiopians, he could potentially have been the king of either the eastern Ethiopians or the African ones.

It is worth mentioning that in ancient Greek, the word Αἰθίοψ (Ethiops) was used not only to describe a specific group of people, but also more generally to refer to individuals with darker skin. The term is a compound of αἴθω (to burn) and ὤψ (face or appearance), literally meaning “burnt-face.” It appears frequently in early Greek literature, such as Homer’s epics, where Ethiopians are depicted as distant, noble figures living at the edges of the known world, rather than as members of a clearly defined nation.

The Ethiopians of Iran

Herodotus himself states that the city of Susa, the ancient capital of Elam (a prominent region in what is now Iran), was known as the city of Memnon. This suggests that Memnon was the king of the eastern Ethiopians, evidently a people in the region of Iran.

This is confirmed by Ctesias, just a few decades after Herodotus. According to this Greek historian, Memnon’s father, Tithonus, was the ruler of Persia. He was either subject to or allied with the king of the Assyrian Empire.

The territory of Persia in the time of the Assyrian Empire corresponded to a large part of what is now Iran. According to Ctesias, Memnon built a palace for himself at Susa. He goes on to claim that Memnon’s army, which he led to Troy, was composed of many Ethiopians and Susians, or inhabitants of Susa.

Hence, it is clear that Memnon in the legends of the Trojan War was originally supposed to have been from ancient Iran.

As for why the Greeks called the inhabitants of that region ‘Ethiopians’, we cannot be sure. However, it may be related to the use of the word ‘Cissians‘ (‘Kíssioi’ in Greek) for the inhabitants of the region of Elam. The Greeks might have confused this for ‘Kush’, the name for the kingdom of the Ethiopians south of Egypt.

How ancient Iran participated in the Trojan War

Ctesias provides the most detailed early account of this army from ancient Iran that fought in the Trojan War. According to Ctesias, King Priam of Troy was subordinate to the king of Assyria, named Teutamos. Due to the difficulties he was facing in the Trojan War, he sent word to Teutamos to ask for help.

As a result, Teutamos sent a large army of 10,000 Ethiopians and 10,000 Susians under the command of Memnon. This army from ancient Iran marched from the furthest corner of the Assyrian Empire over to Troy. Ctesias wrote:

“Memnon assisted the Trojans with 20,000 infantry and 200 chariots and… he was admired for his courage and for killing many Greeks in battle.”

Despite his prowess in battle, Ctesias goes on to explain that the Thessalians killed him. This refers to his death at the hands of Achilles, as per other sources. Achilles was from the kingdom of Phthia in ancient Thessaly.

Did an army from ancient Iran fight in the Trojan War?

Could Memnon have been a historical king or prince of Elam in ancient Iran? Some scholars have speculated that he might be identical to Humban-Numena I, the king of Elam in the Bronze Age. Furthermore, the latter half of his name is admittedly similar to ‘Memnon’.

However, he likely reigned in the first half of the 14th century BCE. Therefore, this king from ancient Iran lived too early to have fought in the Trojan War.

Two other possibilities are Humban-Numena II, possibly in the 11th century BCE, and Humban-Numena III, who lived at the end of the eighth century BCE. The latter’s name is often written in modern sources as “Humban-menanu.” The similarity to “Memnon,” while not exact, is there.

This latter candidate, although living much later than the traditional date of the Trojan War, is particularly noteworthy given Ctesias’ chronological information. He places Memnon’s activities at the height of the Assyrian Empire.

Another candidate from approximately the same time is a prominent Elamite known only as Menanu, referenced in a letter from Ashurbanipal, the king of Assyria. The letter makes it clear that Menanu is a supporter of Assyria. This fits what Ctesias tells us about Memnon.

However, this does not necessarily mean that an army marched from ancient Iran to fight in the Trojan War. In part, this depends on when the Trojan War occurred, a continued historical debate.

Nevertheless, the legend itself is clear. Memnon led an army from ancient Iran to Troy, where they fought in the Trojan War against the Greeks.

Ancient Greece is the subject of immense scholarly and popular attention. Unsurprisingly, The focus tends to be on the grandest moments of ancient Greek history such as pivotal battles or discoveries made by famous philosophers and scientists. Much less attention is paid to the wages and work of the common man in ancient Greece. The average farmer working the land in rural Greece is studied far less than famous figures like Alexander the Great or Pericles, for example.

Nevertheless, ordinary people would have been the backbone of any polis (city). These were the people who harvested the crops, sailed the seas in search of trade, and erected beautiful buildings like the Acropolis that are still admired today.

Agriculture: the backbone of the ancient Greek economy

Attitudes to work and wages differed significantly in ancient Greece to the present period and would have been linked to an individual’s status as either a free citizen, foreigner, or slave.

During the Classical period (510 BC – 323 BC) – and indeed throughout Greek history – most people would have worked in agriculture. Private individuals cultivated crops and raised livestock on their own land in ancient Greece. Land ownership by non-residents was restricted, leading to smallholdings as the common practice. Inherited equal shares of parental land by male children also prevented land consolidation.

In Athens, farm sizes ranged from five hectares (poorer citizens) to twenty hectares (aristocracy), while in Sparta, they averaged from eighteen hectares to forty-four hectares. For landowners, the amount of money they earned from their farms would have depended on the yield generated by their crops and livestock.

The poorest citizens lacked land and might have worked for pay on others’ land or leased land for cultivation, especially if they lacked other beneficial skills like craftsmanship.

In Athens, free citizens who worked on the land but did not earn any themselves would likely have belonged to the thetes class. Thetes were classified as those employed for wages or those whose annual income was less than two-hundred medimnoi. The medimnos was an ancient Greek unit of volume, usually used to measure grain, so lower-class workers may have been paid with food rather than money.

Other types of work and wages in ancient Greece

Various roles existed across what would today be considered the manufacturing, service, retail, and trade sectors. Attitudes to these occupations outside of the agricultural sector would have varied, but generally, the farmer was idealized in ancient Greece.

Earning wages was looked down upon since it was seen as limiting personal freedom and akin to enslavement. Consequently, free men working alongside free non-citizens and slaves on Acropolis construction projects earned equivalent wages. Despite this, wages seem to have been sufficient for sustaining a livelihood. In Athens, skilled laborers typically earned one drachma per day around the late fifth century and two and a half drachmai in 377 BC.

The existence of metics, foreign-born free non-citizens who settled in city-states, helped compensate for the scarcity of willing or necessary free citizens turning to business or wage labor.  In Athens, which boasted an estimated twenty-five thousand metics at its zenith, these individuals were prohibited from land ownership and tended to engage in occupations looked down upon by the free citizens.

Despite challenges, economic prospects in Athens and other bustling port cities, where metics thrived, must have been promising. Their allure was strong, even though they faced a special poll tax and military service, unable to own land, engage in politics, or represent themselves legally—relying on citizen representatives.

Prominent and wealthy metics did manage to thrive in Athens. The names of some of these successful metics are still known today. For example, the bankers Pasion and Phormion, and Cephalus, a shield-maker and father of the orator Lysias.

Soldiers and sailors

Again, the pay for ancient Greek soldiers would have varied over time and geographical space. Seniority within the military would have also impacted pay and mercenaries would have negotiated contracts with their employers. Nevertheless, some figures are available that provide a rough idea of what the average soldier or sailor could expect to earn.

During the fifth century, a Greek soldier on a campaign was allotted one choinix of wheat daily. In Athens, by the late fifth century, wheat cost three drachmai per medimnos. As a medimnos contains forty-eight choinices, this meant one drachma could provide sustenance for an individual for sixteen days or a family of four for four days.

Meanwhile, pay for rowers in the Athenian navy was one drachma a day in the early fifth century. It had previously been lower at just two obloi but was increased during wartime.

Have you ever wondered if your favourite old jumper, battered by time and use, is still truly the same as the one you fell in love with at the shop many years ago? That seemingly silly question is one of philosophy’s oldest and most fascinating puzzles, known as the Ship of Theseus.

The Ship of Theseus is an ancient brain-teaser

Plutarch, the ancient Greek writer and historian, presented us with a real head-scratcher with his tale of Theseus’ trireme.

Picture this: the Athenians, immensely proud of the ship that carried their hero Theseus to victory over the Minotaur, kept it docked for centuries. But as we all know, wood doesn’t last forever, as it can start to rot very quickly. So, whenever a plank rotted away or timber decayed significantly, the smart Athenians would meticulously replace it with a new one. Bit by bit, year after year, every single original piece of that ship was swapped out and replaced with brand-new wood.

Now, here’s the one-million-drachma question: was this still the Ship of Theseus? Or had it, piece by piece, become an entirely different vessel that had nothing to do with Theseus’ heroic journey? This was a profound thought experiment that kept brilliant minds confounded for millennia. It makes us wonder about identity and what makes something… something. Is it about what an object or a human is made of? Does it have to do with their materials? Their shape, maybe? What about their personal story? Or could it be something else entirely? This simple story by Plutarch prompts us to delve into what we mean when we say something is “the same.”

The Ship of Theseus and the idea of change

The brilliance of the Ship of Theseus story lies in its elegant illustration of the uncomfortable truth that everyone and everything, eventually, changes. Consider yourself as an example. Most of the cells in your body are replaced every few years. Are you, reading this right now, the same person you were a decade ago, even though practically all the biological components that constitute the physical you are new?

This is why the Ship of Theseus is a perfect example of this constant flow of renewal. It shows the tension between how we perceive something as permanent and its ever-changing physical reality.

And right when you think you understood the whole story, here comes a twist, often credited to Thomas Hobbes, the English philosopher.

This twist is asking us what if, hypothetically, all those old, discarded planks from Theseus’ ship were gathered up and used to build a second ship? Which one, then, is the “true” Ship of Theseus? The one that has been continuously in the harbour, even with all new parts? Or the one made of all the original pieces, just reassembled to create a brand new ship? You can almost hear the ancient Athenians debating this topic, wondering which ship deserved the glory of their hero.

The modern implications

The deep implications of the Ship of Theseus go beyond the confines of ancient Greek mythology. They truly resonate in our modern world, where things are constantly being upgraded, recycled, and reinvented only to be presented as something brand new. Take your mobile phone, for example. With every software update, every component replaced, is it still the “same” phone you bought two years ago? What about a classic car that has been restored and fixed with love, often with hardly any original parts left? Is it still that iconic model, or a new creation in an old shell?

This paradox even touches on larger ideas, such as national identity. Countries evolve, populations shift, and cultures adapt. Are we, as a nation, the “same” as our ancestors from centuries past? Is the US truly a nation or just a creation of many smaller parts of people who came from distant lands to find a better future?

Is modern Greece truly the grandchild of ancient Greece? What about the Roman identity that became synonymous with the Greeks for more than a thousand years? The word ‘Romios,’ which is Greek for Roman, still defines the notion of Greekness. Thus, are Greeks a continuation of the ancient identity, or are they something new, composed of thousands of different ethnic and cultural components that migrated to their lands over time? We share history, language, and heritage, of course, but the actual people, the “material” of the nation, have changed countless times.

The Ship of Theseus tells us that identity–whether it’s ours, our nation’s, or even a beloved object’s is a fluid and ever-changing concept, rarely as straightforward as it seems.

In a time and place that offered few career opportunities for women, the job of the priestess of Apollo at the Oracle of Delphi stands out. Her position was at the centre of one of the most powerful religious institutions of ancient Greece. The competing Greek city states had few overarching authorities (political or otherwise), so the significance of her voice should not be underestimated.

Indeed, there is some evidence to suggest that the priestess Pythia was at the core of what we today call a “knowledge economy.” Her role may well have involved the gathering, re-packaging, and distribution of information, with the ultimate intent of providing sound advice on the trivial and not-so-trivial questions of life in ancient Greece.

The “Pythia” is the official job title. We know of several women by name who, during the long history of this institution (from ca. 800 BC to AD 390/91), held that role, including Phemonoe and Aristonike. Indeed, at some stage, Delphi became so busy that three Pythias were appointed to serve in the role simultaneously.

The oracle was consulted by the movers and shakers of ancient Greece on a diverse range of problems. For the priestess Pythia, this meant the opportunity to comment on a variety of issues of public and individual concern: cult matters, warfare, the relationships between existing city-states, and the foundation of new ones.

Numerous personal questions were also put to the oracle on matters of lovesickness, career advice, childbirth, and how to get offspring. So, by all standards, this job was demanding yet also diverse and rewarding—a position powerful enough to change the course of history.

Yet, right from the beginning, efforts to deprive the priestess of her power prevailed, particularly in older classical scholarship. Surely a woman, especially one in such a paternalistic society as ancient Greece, could not hold that powerful a position?

Some scholars suggested that the Pythia actually babbled unintelligible gibberish and that her words were later put into beautiful, deep, and meaningful hexameter verse—by male priests.

Yet, in our ancient sources, there is absolutely nothing to suggest that it was anyone other than the Pythia herself who came up with the responses. On the contrary, she is regularly named as the one and only source of the prophecies delivered at the Oracle of Delphi. There is no word of male priests beyond those in purely administrative and assisting roles.

Insult by oracle

The position of the Pythia seemed to have entailed the extraordinary opportunity to speak unwelcome truth to those in power.

A Spartan once approached the oracle with the intention of being confirmed as the wisest man in the world. In response to this question, the Pythia named another person who was wiser.

In about 700 BC, the Greek city of Megara allegedly asked the Pythia which the best of all Greek cities were, hoping to be named first. The Pythia mentioned two better cities, concluding with the line, “[Y]ou, o Megarians, [are] neither third nor fourth.” Surely, the Megarians did not see that coming!

Cleisthenes, meanwhile, the famous tyrant of Sicyon, asked whether he should remove the cult of the hero Adrastus from the city. He received an oracle that came straight to the point: “Adrastus is king of Sicyon, and you but a common slayer.”

This kind of reality check and straight talk would certainly have upset those with egos accustomed to flattery and agreement.

Of course, it is not always possible to tell whether these and other responses of the oracle were authentic or whether the whole incident was part of later historiographic lore. Yet, whatever the case: the fact is that it was a woman who was attributed such a sharp, judgmental voice.

And her voice proved extraordinarily unimpeachable. The Greeks thought that it was the god Apollo who conveyed his superior divine knowledge through the mouth of the Pythia, so the priestess herself was largely beyond reproach. While itinerant seers, augurs, and oracle mongers feature in classical literature as corrupt and unreliable, the position of the Pythia seems to have withstood all criticism.

The job and its challenges

Being a Pythia was not always easy. Several ancient enquirers sought to influence the kind of answer they hoped to get from the oracle. Subtle manipulation in how the questions were put, not-so-subtle bribery, and even an attempt to force the oracle to deliver responses on a non-auspicious day are all on record, as are complaints about unfathomable responses.

For instance the Greek historian, philosopher, soldier, and horse whisperer, Xenophon, allegedly enquired at Delphi to which deity he should sacrifice and pray so that the military expedition he was about to join would be a success. He was later reprimanded by the philosopher Socrates for having posed a manipulative question. Socrates felt he should have asked whether it would be a success, rather than how.

Cleisthenes was said to have bribed the Pythia to deliver the same response to all Spartan requests at the oracle, no matter the question: to free Athens from the rule of tyrants.

And after a series of spectacular mishaps based on misread oracles, the Lydian king Croesus complained at the Delphic Oracle about having been misled. The Pythia responded that he himself was to blame for his misfortune, as he should have interpreted the Pythia’s words correctly.

We also know of several instances in which the Pythia outright refused to respond to a question that, in one way or another, seemed unreasonable.

Job requirements

What did it take to become the Pythia? Was she a local girl from a neighboring village? Was any kind of training provided to candidates? Or were they thrown in the deep end?

Unfortunately, the ancient sources are silent. The Nobel prize-winning author William Golding in his (posthumously published) last novel, The Double Tongue, written from the perspective of a Pythia, sees her as a local girl who was unable to get herself married and so took on that role.

Yet again, this sounds like speculation designed to downplay the position.

The kind of skills required to be successful in the role are easier to reconstruct. The sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi served as a marketplace for representatives from all over ancient Greece (and beyond) who came for a variety of reasons.

In addition to the oracle, the sanctuary housed regular athletic competitions (the so-called Pythian Games, analogous to the more famous Olympic Games). With its numerous temples and monuments, the site was also a popular tourist destination. All these activities together served to establish a busy hub, where information, news, and gossip of all kinds would have circulated freely.

Perhaps the key to the Pythia’s success was simply to listen closely? There is good evidence to suggest that the fantastic tales of prediction and fulfilment are a matter of the (later) historiographic tradition and that it was mostly quite straightforward questions of everyday life that were put to the Pythia for comment, along the lines suggested by the ancient author Plutarch, who was also a priest at Delphi: Will I win? Shall I marry? Is it a good idea to sail the sea? Shall I take up farming? Shall I go abroad?

If this was indeed the case, it would, more often than not, have been possible to glean the information necessary to answer any particular enquiry from the chatter of those queuing to consult the oracle, to watch or participate in the games, or to take in the monuments. The Pythia may have trailblazed the knowledge economy millennia before the arrival of “big data” and the invention of the internet.

By Julia Kindt

Julia Kindt is a Professor, Department of Classics and Ancient History, University of Sydney. The article was published at The Conversation and is republished under a Creative Commons License.

Since the 19th century, several precious gold objects associated with the Mycenaean civilization have been discovered by archaeologists, predominantly at important burial sites where the royals and elite of Bronze Age Greece were buried.

The Mycenaeans were the first distinctly Greek culture to dominate mainland Greece during the late Bronze Age period between c. 1750 and 1050 BC. Their civilization was characterized by palatial states, advanced urban organization, and a written language dubbed Linear B by modern historians. It was during the Mycenaen age that the Trojan War purportedly happened, as retold in Homer’s Iliad.

The discovery of Mycenaean gold sheds light on the material culture of this enigmatic civilization but there are still many unanswered questions. For example, researchers are unsure whether the Mycenaeans crafted all of these items themselves, or whether they were obtained in trade and war.

The Grave Circles at Mycenae

The most famous examples of Mycenaean gold were discovered in two grave circles uncovered at the ancient Bronze Age site of Mycenae. Grave Circle A was discovered by Heinrich Schliemann in 1876 based on the descriptions of Homer and Pausanias. Grave Circle B was excavated in 1952 by archaeologists Ioannis Papadimitriou and Georgios Mylonas after workmen accidentally stumbled on the tombs a year before.

Both grave circles, dating back to the 16th century BC, contained impressive amounts of gold objects and other precious items. Unlike other Bronze Age tombs, they had not been discovered by the grave robbers and looted.

Grave Circle A contained 15 kg (33 lbs) of gold alone, making it one of the most substantial archaeological finds in all of Europe. Both grave circles contained hundreds of previous objects including jewelry, ornamental clothing attachments, decorated weapons, and highly distinctive funeral masks.

The Death Mask of Agamemnon

The most iconic find is the so-called Death Mask of Agamemnon. Schleimann named the mask after the legendary Mycenaean King Agamemnon who led the Achaean Greeks in the Trojan War according to Homer’s Iliad. However, more recent research has indicated that the mask predates the time that Agamemnon was supposed to have lived by about three centuries.

The Mask of Agamemnon was crafted utilizing a single large gold sheet that underwent heating and hammering against a wooden surface. The intricate details were then added through the process of chasing, using a sharp tool to etch them onto the mask.

There were six other death masks discovered in Grave Circle A. Of the seven masks, six belonged to adult males and one to a child. None of the women discovered at the gravesite were buried with ornate masks.

The masks in Grave Circle A exhibit similar characteristics, featuring flat foil-like layers of gold depicting round, bald faces with round eyes and prominent ears. In contrast, Grave Circle B includes a death mask made of electrum, placed in a container next to a buried body instead of being placed on the deceased. The scarcity of death masks in Grave Circle B suggests that the interred individuals held lower wealth or status compared to the abundance of valuable material found in Grave Circle A, including the death masks.

The Royal Tombs at Pylos

The burials at Mycenae might have provided the most famous examples of Mycenaean gold, but they are not the only Bronze Age tombs where exquisite items have been found.

In 2019, a team of archaeologists discovered Bronze Age royal tombs situated near the royal palace of Pylos, said to have once been the seat of power for Nestor, the eldest among the Greek rulers who fought in Trojan War.

The larger tomb, which was once 12m (36 feet) wide and 4.5 meters (15 feet) deep, had stone walls that once stood as tall as the ground’s height. The underground chambers were originally covered by domes, but over time, the roofs and upper walls collapsed. Consequently, the tombs became buried beneath numerous melon-sized stones and a tangled mass of grape vines. In their excavation efforts, archaeologists from the University of Cincinnati, including Jack Davis, Sharon Stocker, and their colleagues, had to painstakingly clear away vegetation and manually remove the stones.

What they discovered, however, was extraordinary. Among the debris, the floors of the burial pits were adorned with shimmering flakes of gold leaf, which had once embellished the walls and floors of the chambers. The tombs, although lacking the remains of their occupants – suggesting a potential disturbance in the distant past – were nonetheless filled with opulent artifacts such as jewelry, gold, bronze, and gemstones.

A particularly interesting find was a gold pendant bearing the image of the Egyptian goddess Hathor who presided over motherhood and the protection of the dead. The Greeks during later periods drew parallels between Hathor and Aphrodite but it is not entirely clear what she meant to the Mycenaean Greeks during the Bronze Age. In any case, the artifact hints at trade links between the Mycenaeans and Egyptians at the time of the burials, which are believed to be about 3,500 years old.

Gold Mining in Mycenaean Greece

As pointed out in an academic paper authored by  M. Vavelidis and S. Andreou, “Numerous objects of gold displaying an impressive variety of types and manufacturing techniques are known from the Late Bronze Age (LBA) contexts of Mycenaean Greece, but very little is known about the origin and processing of gold during the second millennium BC.”

This raises several questions, namely: where did the Mycenaeans source their gold from? Interestingly, the wider Argolid region in which Mycenae was itself located and where the discoveries were made of numerous stunning golden items, is bereft of gold. If the Bronze Age Greeks did their own mining it was therefore elsewhere in Greece.

According to Vavelidis and Andreou, “Ancient literature and recent research indicate that northern Greece is probably the richest gold-bearing region in Greece, and yet very little evidence exists regarding the exploitation of its deposits and the production as well as use of gold in the area during prehistory.”

Nevertheless, by examining the chemical composition of prehistoric artifacts from two settlements alongside the composition of gold deposits in their nearby regions, it becomes evident that gold was locally sourced in some parts of Greece. This finding also raises the possibility that a portion of the Mycenaean gold may have originated from northern Greece.

Furthermore, the discovery of small stone crucibles, one of which bore visible traces of gold melting, at the archaeological site of Toumba in Thessaloniki, proves that local production of gold items took place very early in ancient Greek history.

Beyond mining, the Mycenaeans may also have obtained gold via trade and war. In some cases, Mycenaean traders may have bought gold for Greek craftsmen to shape into various objects, and in other cases, they would have imported finished items.

The Mycenaeans were well-respected as warriors across the Eastern Mediterranean and sometimes fought in the armies of neighboring civilizations like the Egyptians as mercenaries. The leaders of these Mycenaean mercenary bands may have received gold as payments or gifts in exchange for their martial services.