Xena the Greek warrior princess, who started as an antagonist of Hercules, captivated audiences around the world more than twenty years ago. One of the joys of looking back at Xena is its playfulness. It features some badass female characters and at times offers a serious message about female solidarity and feminism.

By Amanda Potter

Xena the fictional Warrior Princess, played by Lucy Lawless, captivated audiences around the world for six series with her high kicks, sword skills, and distinctive war cry. The series followed her as she fought her way through armies, monsters, and gods alongside her soul mate and moral compass, Gabrielle (Renee O’Connor).

Xena travelled across space and time, taking us from ancient Greece to Rome, Egypt, Britain, China, India, Scandinavia, and finally to Japan, where it all came to an end twenty years ago on June 18, 2001.

Starting life as an antagonist of Hercules in three episodes of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena was so popular as a character that she was given her own spin-off series that ran from 1995 to 2001. At the time, Xena: Warrior Princess was considered groundbreaking, as it starred a strong female action heroine and was the only popular adventure, action, science fiction, or fantasy show that featured female leads without male counterparts.

On the twentieth anniversary of the final episode, it is worth revisiting this great show and exploring why it was loved by a broad spectrum of viewers, from young girls drawn in by an active female role model to ancient history buffs, sci-fi fans and the LGBTQ community.

The Fictional Greek Warrior Princess and the Amazons

A reformed warlord from ancient Greece, Xena was not an Amazon but a friend to the tribe of warrior women. To ancient Greek writers, the Amazons were women who fought and behaved like men and were unnatural barbarians. They have since been adopted as positive female role models who break with misogynistic stereotypes of womanhood—they live in a self-sufficient, female-dominated society as warriors and intellectuals. The term “Amazon feminism” is now used to describe a branch of feminism that promotes female physical prowess as a way to achieve gender equality.

Before Xena, the Amazons featured in the 1970s Wonder Woman television series. Not quite the feminist icons we expect today, these women wore pastel-colored negligees as they adopted a peaceful life—without men—on Paradise Island.

In Xena, while the Amazons may also have been attired in revealing costumes made of furs and skins, their separatist society valued martial, as well as academic, skills. An Amazon tells Gabrielle that the Amazon world is based on “truth and an individual woman’s strength.”

The Amazons from Greek mythology lived apart from men at the edge of the known world and fought bravely against male heroes such as Hercules, Theseus, and Achilles. In Xena, the Amazons also lived in a matriarchal society and were skilled fighters who could hold their own against men.

The Amazons in Wonder Woman (2017) can be seen as Xena’s big-screen descendants. The costumes and fighting prowess of Penthesilea (Nina Milner) in the BBC drama Troy: Fall of a City (2018) has tinges of Xena. The leadership ability of the immortal Amazon Andy (Charlize Theron) in the Netflix film The Old Guard can also be seen as inspired by Xena.

But while Troy: Fall of a City and The Old Guard are aimed at older audiences, Xena was popular across all age groups. For instance, episodes of Xena were broadcast in the UK on Channel Five’s Milkshake! Saturday morning slot in the ’90s and early 2000s for young viewers. This led many young girls to adopt Xena as their role model.

The Xena subtext

Xena was also popular with gay and lesbian viewers. In the 1990s, openly gay relationships were mostly missing from popular US television series. However, Xena’s relationship with Gabrielle was interpreted as friends and lovers as much as hero and sidekick. Series producers began to play with this idea, for example, putting Xena and Gabrielle together in a sexy bath in season two fan-favorite episode “A Day in the Life,” so that for many, the subtext became the main text.

Although a lot of fans were dismayed that Xena died in the final episode, they were treated to a long goodbye kiss between Gabrielle and Xena’s ghost. Series producers never openly made Xena and Gabrielle a lesbian couple. But LGBTQ+ fans championed their relationship, which is believed to have paved the way for the openly gay relationships we see in television series today.

One of the joys of looking back at Xena twenty years afterward is its playfulness when compared with dark sci-fi fantasies like Game of Thrones. It features some badass female characters and at times offers a serious message about female solidarity and feminism, but doesn’t take itself too seriously. Some of the special effects may now seem dated, but the storylines still ring true, and the characters of Xena and Gabrielle can continue to be inspirational for a new generation of young female viewers.

Amanda Potter is a Visiting Research Fellow at The Open University. The article was published in The Conversation and is republished here under a Creative Commons License.

Delphi offered more than prophecy in the times of the Ancient Greeks, as inscribed on the temple were a series of brief sayings with deep philosophical meaning known as the Delphic Maxims.

These concise statements distilled profound ideas about ethics, self-control, and human nature. Though short in form, they helped shape Greek thought for centuries and left a lasting influence on philosophers such as Socrates and Plato.

Among these maxims, two became especially well known: “Know Thyself” (Γνῶθι Σεαυτόν) and “Nothing in Excess” (Μηδὲν Ἄγαν). The Ancient Greeks did not treat these as simple moral slogans but rather as guiding principles for inner harmony and a philosophical pursuit of knowledge.

Delphi and the center of the Greek world

Few sacred places in the Ancient Greek world carried the same spiritual authority and symbolic weight as Delphi. Greeks from across the region traveled to the sanctuary of Apollo to consult the oracle, offer sacrifices, and seek divine guidance. Kings, generals, philosophers, and ordinary citizens all stood before the same sacred center, hoping to receive wisdom from the god.

The sanctuary was located on the slopes of Mount Parnassus in central Greece, and the Ancient Greeks regarded it as the spiritual center of the world. According to myth, Zeus released two eagles from opposite ends of the earth, and they met above Delphi. The famous omphalos, or sacred stone, marked this divine center. The sanctuary belonged to Apollo, the god of light, harmony, music, prophecy, and rational order. Pilgrims arrived from across the Mediterranean to hear the oracle delivered through the Pythia, Apollo’s priestess.

Yet Delphi also functioned as a philosophical and ethical center. Visitors encountered sacred inscriptions carved directly into the temple itself. Tradition often attributed the Delphic Maxims to the Seven Sages of Greece, legendary figures associated with practical wisdom and political insight. Various sources preserve differing lists, though names such as Solon, Thales, Bias, Pittacus, and Chilon frequently appear among them. According to tradition, Chilon of Sparta is credited with “Know Thyself,” while Solon or Cleobulus is often associated with “Nothing in Excess.” Regardless of authorship, the Greeks regarded the maxims as expressions of divine wisdom connected to Apollo himself.

“Know Thyself” and the common interpretation of the Delphic maxim

The maxim “Know Thyself” became one of the most influential phrases in Western philosophy. Most people interpret it as a call to humility. In this reading, the maxim reminds human beings of their limitations and the notion that mortals should not imagine themselves equal to gods. Pride, arrogance, and excessive ambition were seen as paths toward destruction.

This interpretation certainly existed in Ancient Greece. Greek tragedy repeatedly warned against hubris, the dangerous overestimation of human power. Delphi therefore urged visitors to recognize their finite condition. The maxim also encouraged a more practical form of self-awareness. A wise person understands both strengths and weaknesses, and this kind of understanding helps prevent poor decisions and reckless behavior. However, Socrates and Plato had a far more profound interpretation.

Socrates and the ontological meaning of “Know Thyself”

Plato’s dialogue First Alcibiades presents one of the most profound interpretations of the Delphic maxim. In the dialogue, Socrates questions the ambitious young Alcibiades, who is eager for political power and glory in Athens. Socrates asks Alcibiades a deceptively simple question: what exactly is the “self” that one must know?

Through careful reasoning, Socrates gradually argues that a human being cannot be reduced to the physical body alone. The body functions more like an instrument used by something deeper. Just as a musician plays a lyre, the soul uses the body. The true self, therefore, must be the soul rather than the body.

This interpretation transforms this Delphic maxim into an ontological and spiritual imperative. “Know Thyself” no longer refers only to recognizing personal limits. Instead, it becomes a call to discover one’s true essence and, in some readings, one’s divine orientation. For Socrates, self-knowledge forms the foundation of wisdom and political virtue. A person who does not understand the soul cannot govern properly because ignorance already governs from within.

In this sense, the Delphic maxim directs human beings toward inner awakening. Socrates takes the argument even further in First Alcibiades. He suggests that the soul knows itself by contemplating what is most like the divine. Wisdom, reason, and truth become the means through which the soul aligns with a higher reality. This idea deeply influenced later Platonic philosophy and Neoplatonism in which thinkers increasingly read the Delphic maxim as a spiritual path toward union with the divine intellect.

Within this framework, self-knowledge becomes sacred knowledge. To know oneself is to understand the soul’s origin, structure, and ultimate destiny. The Delphic inscription thus becomes more than an ethical reminder—it stands as a gateway into metaphysics.

The Delphic maxim “Nothing in Excess” and the harmony of the soul

Another great Delphic maxim is “Nothing in Excess,” which carried far deeper meaning than simple moderation. At a practical level, the saying encouraged balance and restraint. Ancient Greeks admired sophrosyne, or self-control. A wise person avoids extremes in pleasure, anger, ambition, and behavior.

Plato later developed this idea philosophically through his theory of the soul. In works such as Republic, Plato describes the soul as composed of distinct parts. Reason must govern spirit and desire in a balanced and harmonious way. When one part dominates excessively, disorder and inner suffering follow.

From this perspective, “Nothing in Excess” reflects a geometrical and proportional vision of the soul. Justice and wisdom arise through equilibrium. Greek philosophy often linked beauty itself to proportion and harmony. The Delphic maxim, therefore, expresses not only a moral principle but also a broader cosmic order.

The speech of Aspasia

Plato places a striking interpretation of “Nothing in Excess” into the mouth of Aspasia in Menexenus. This passage expands the maxim into a broader philosophy of inner independence and self-mastery. Aspasia declares:

“The saying ‘Nothing in Excess,’ spoken since ancient times, appears entirely correct. Indeed, it is the truest principle. The person who depends only on themselves and their own capacities for happiness, and who does not suspend their life on the fortunes of others, is best prepared for life. This individual is moderate, heroic, and wise. Whether they gain wealth and children or lose them, they remain faithful to this maxim above all. They will neither rejoice nor grieve beyond measure because they rely primarily on themselves and their inner strength.”

This interpretation reveals the ethical depth of the Delphic maxim. Moderation here is not merely quantitative but qualitative, shaping one’s entire way of living. It becomes a question of inner freedom.

A balanced person does not collapse under misfortune nor become intoxicated by success. Inner stability produces courage, wisdom, and resilience. Plato therefore connects moderation directly to philosophical strength.

One of the most remarkable inventions of Ancient Athenian democracy was a device used to randomly select citizens for public duties such as jury service and public office.

The kleroterion consisted of a stele with horizontal rows of slots on its front and a vertical metal tube attached to the side. Prospective jurors inserted small, flat bronze tokens known as pinakia into these slots, each engraved with their name, their father’s name, and their deme (municipality). Black and white metal spheres were then placed into a funnel and released into the tube in a randomized sequence.

Candidates whose pinakia aligned with a white sphere were selected as jurors, while those aligned with a black sphere were not. Multiple kleroteria (plural) were installed in front of each court to handle the selection process.

Developed in Classical Athens during the 5th century BC, the kleroterion embodied a radical principle for its time: that ordinary citizens, rather than elites or hereditary rulers, should take part in governing the state through equitable civic participation. Within the broader framework of Ancient Athenian democracy, it represented a systematic effort to formalize political equality.

Although the process may appear simple by modern standards, it was highly innovative in the ancient world. Instead of elections shaped by wealth, family influence, or popularity, the Athenians relied heavily on sortition, or selection by lottery. The kleroterion mechanized this system and significantly reduced opportunities for corruption. Eligible citizens would arrive at the court and place their pinakia into the appropriate slots of the kleroterion, with each column representing a tribe and reflecting the political organization of Athens established after the reforms of Cleisthenes around 508 BC.

Archaeological discoveries, particularly from the Athenian Agora, have confirmed ancient written accounts and revealed the sophistication of the system. The kleroterion ultimately illustrates how deeply equality, civic participation, and safeguards against corruption were valued within Athenian democracy.

The foundations of Athenian democracy and the kleroterion

The foundations of Ancient Greek democracy in Athens were established through the reforms of Cleisthenes in 508–507 BC and later expanded during the 5th century BC under leaders such as Pericles. During this period, Athens actively sought to prevent the concentration of political power in the hands of aristocratic elites. One of the key mechanisms used to achieve this goal was random selection. As Aristotle explains in Politics (Book IV, 1294b), the distinction between democracy and oligarchy was clear and fundamental: “It is accepted as democratic when public offices are allocated by lot; and as oligarchic when they are filled by election.”

This statement highlights the ideological importance of the kleroterion within Athenian democracy. Elections tended to favor wealthy and influential citizens who already possessed reputation, education, and good social networks. Random allotment, by contrast, gave ordinary citizens an equal opportunity to participate in governance. The Athenians believed that political equality, or isonomia, depended on broad participation from the citizen body rather than dominance by a small elite.

The kleroterion was particularly significant in the selection of jurors for the dikasteria, the large popular courts of Athens. Each day, thousands of jurors were chosen to hear legal and political cases. Aristotle also describes this procedure in The Constitution of the Athenians (63): “Each juror, after presenting his ticket, receives a staff and enters the court to which the lot assigns him.”

Random selection in the courts was designed to make bribery and manipulation far more difficult. Because no one could predict who would serve on a given jury, corrupt politicians and wealthy litigants found it harder to influence outcomes in advance. In this way, the kleroterion functioned as a safeguard against corruption and tyranny in Ancient Athenian democracy. In a society deeply wary of concentrated power, randomness itself became an essential democratic instrument.

The randomization process in Ancient Athenian democracy

The randomization process operated in several stages. Citizens first inserted their tokens into the designated slots of the kleroterion. Colored balls were then released from the attached tube in a randomized sequence. A white ball typically indicated that a corresponding row had been selected, while a black ball signaled rejection. Citizens whose tokens aligned with the selected rows would then serve on juries or councils.

This system helped ensure a fair distribution of civic responsibility across different tribes and social groups. Over the course of their lives, thousands of Athenians could participate directly in governing roles. Thus, political participation was understood not merely as a privilege but as a civic duty requiring active engagement.

Regular rotation of officeholders also helped limit the emergence of entrenched political elites. Ancient historians often emphasized the active role of ordinary citizens in Athenian political life. Thucydides, in his account of Pericles’ Funeral Oration in History of the Peloponnesian War (II.37), captures this democratic ethos: “Our constitution is called a democracy because power is in the hands not of a minority but of the whole people.”

Through the kleroterion, this ideal of collective governance was translated into practical reality. Ordinary citizens could be selected to serve on juries or councils at any time. A farmer, craftsman, or merchant might suddenly find himself serving alongside fellow citizens, reinforcing civic identity and strengthening a shared sense of responsibility for the polis.

Modern classicists on the significance of the kleroterion in Ancient Athenian democracy

Modern historians have long recognized the revolutionary nature of the kleroterion system. The classical scholar M. H. Hansen writes in The Athenian Democracy in the Age of Demosthenes: “The Athenians regarded sortition as the most democratic method of selecting officials because it gave every citizen an equal chance of holding office.”

Hansen’s observation underscores how differently the Athenians understood democracy compared to most modern states. Today, democracy is commonly associated with representative elections, but in Athens, elections were often viewed as less democratic precisely because they enabled wealth, status, and rhetorical skill to dominate political life. In contrast, the kleroterion directly challenged social hierarchy by affirming that ordinary citizens were fully capable of public service.

Hansen also emphasizes that the system reflected confidence in collective civic wisdom rather than reliance on specialized expertise. Offices assigned by lot were typically short in duration, and officials were subject to scrutiny both before and after their terms of service. This structure helped reduce the risks associated with inexperience while maintaining broad participation. In practice, Athenian governance depended less on professional politicians and more on the continual rotation of citizens through public duties.

Another modern scholar, Paul Cartledge, highlights the symbolic dimension of the kleroterion in Democracy: A Life, writing: “The allotment machine was democracy made stone.” Cartledge’s phrase captures the broader cultural significance of the device. The kleroterion functioned not only as an administrative tool but also as a physical embodiment of democratic equality. Each citizen’s bronze token occupied an identical slot, with no distinction between aristocrat and laborer once the allotment process began. In this sense, the machine itself stood as a tangible symbol of political fairness and civic equality.

Ordinary citizens in public office

The kleroterion also reflected broader Greek ideas about fate, equality, and civic order. Although the use of chance in political selection may seem unusual to modern observers, the Athenians believed that sortition helped prevent factionalism and personal ambition from undermining the state. Because officeholders could not easily manipulate or predict their selection, the process reduced political competition and eased social tensions.

As historian Josiah Ober explains in his book Mass and Elite in Democratic Athens, “Lottery selection was intended to institutionalize political equality and to minimize elite domination.” Ober argues that Athenian democracy succeeded in part because it actively integrated ordinary citizens into the institutions of the state. The kleroterion was central to this integration. By opening public roles to a broad cross-section of the citizen body, it encouraged loyalty to the polis and helped reduce the alienation often associated with political exclusion.

At the same time, the system had clear limitations. Citizenship was restricted to free adult males born to Athenian parents, while women, enslaved people, and foreigners were excluded from participation. As a result, the democracy supported by the kleroterion was limited according to modern standards. Even so, within the citizen body itself, it pursued political equality to a remarkable degree. The idea that ordinary individuals could collectively govern was profoundly innovative in the ancient world.

The decline of Athenian democracy in the 4th century BC and the subsequent rise of Macedonian power led to the reduced use of institutions such as the kleroterion. Nevertheless, its intellectual legacy endured. Political philosophers and modern democratic theorists continue to debate the value of sortition, and some contemporary scholars have even proposed reintroducing forms of random selection to modern governments as a way to counter corruption, polarization, and elite dominance. In several modern democracies, citizens’ assemblies selected by lot reflect renewed interest in these ancient practices.

Archaeological evidence has further enriched modern understanding of the kleroterion. Excavated examples, now displayed in museums, reveal the advanced administrative organization of Athens. These carefully constructed stone devices demonstrate the seriousness with which democratic participation was approached. Far from being primitive or chaotic, Athenian democracy relied on highly structured procedures to ensure fairness, accountability, and broad civic involvement.

Water loss in parts of Greece’s aging water networks exceeds 50 percent, according to a new analysis by EY-Parthenon, highlighting the urgent need for infrastructure upgrades and a new approach to water management.

The report warns that climate pressures, prolonged drought, declining water reserves, and outdated infrastructure are pushing Greece’s water sector to a critical turning point.

Greece’s water networks are now increasingly viewed as core national infrastructure with direct implications for economic stability, environmental protection, and long-term public planning.

A loss of over 50% in some of Greece’s aging water networks

According to EY-Parthenon, the global strategy consulting arm of Ernst & Young (EY), water losses across Greek networks exceed 30 to 40 percent in many cases, while certain areas face losses of over 50 percent. The high losses reflect aging infrastructure, insufficient maintenance, limited monitoring of water flows and consumption data, and the need for more efficient management systems.

The analysis also notes that water reuse remains extremely limited in Greece, at around two percent. At the same time, irrigation accounts for approximately 85 percent of total water consumption. More than 70 percent of irrigation water comes from underground reserves, which highlights the need for more efficient resource use and a more pronounced shift toward circular water management.

Fragmented water sector faces growing pressure in Greece

EY-Parthenon identifies fragmentation as one of the main weaknesses of Greece’s water management sector. The market includes 129 municipal water and sewage companies, more than 450 irrigation organizations, and a broad network of local authorities. This dispersed operating model makes coordination harder, limits economies of scale, and slows modernization projects.

The challenge becomes more urgent as the sector faces increasing demands related to resilience, governance, service quality, and regulatory compliance. Numerous smaller providers remain under financial pressure, as revenue from water bills often does not fully cover operating costs or support major infrastructure investments.

Greece’s water infrastructure needs reach €10 billion

Although the sector faces serious structural problems, EY-Parthenon sees significant room for investment in Greece’s water market. The country’s medium- and long-term infrastructure needs stand at around €10 billion ($11.5 billion). Meanwhile, Greece’s two largest water companies have planned or ongoing investments that exceed €3 billion ($3.46 billion).

These investments focus on network upgrades, expansion, modernization, and efficiency improvements. According to the report, investor confidence in the sector also continues to rise, as shown by the recent market performance of listed companies operating in the water industry.

New rules could reshape Greece’s aging water networks

Changes in Greece’s regulatory framework could further transform the sector. The expanded role of the Regulatory Authority for Waste, Energy and Water (RAAEY), stricter European obligations on wastewater management, and efforts to reduce fragmentation are shifting reform from discussion to implementation.

These changes create opportunities, but they also impose new requirements on water providers. They call for greater transparency, more rigorous reporting obligations, improved accountability, and more reliable long-term planning. EY-Parthenon emphasizes that the sector’s future challenges are not only technical. They also involve financial sustainability, pricing policies, digital transformation, investment priorities, and cooperation between public and private stakeholders.

When ancient Greek geographer Pausanias sat down to rest beneath the shade of the giant vine, he was unaware it was probably the oldest in the world.

It was approximately 160 AD when Pausanias (110-180 AD) enjoyed the shade of the ancient vine (Vitis vinifera) in the modern-day Peloponnesian community of Sella Pagrati on the Tripoli-Kalavryta national highway.

Today, the Vine of Pausanias is a tourist attraction on the border of the Arcadia and Achaia prefectures within the courtyard of the Agios Nikolaos church. According to agriculturalists, it is estimated to be about three thousand years old.

In the book, Food and History, Vol 11 (pp. 27-34) by Boursiquot, Lacombe, Laucou, and Bakasietas, there is a description of the ancient Greek vine:

“In order to contribute to the development of knowledge on the ampelographic heritage and the viticultural genetic resources of Greece, we have characterized the so-called ‘Pausanias’ vine at the ampelographic and molecular level. This vine is located in the center of the Peloponnese (village of Pagrati, Prefecture of Achaia). It is named and listed under the name of ‘Vine of Pausanias,’ Greek geographer of the 2nd century AD, even if its origin and its real age are not really known. The results of the analyses show that it is not an ancient Greek grape variety but a lambrusca (Vitis vinifera subsp. sylvestris), whose specificity lies in the fact that the strain has been maintained naturally for a very long time, and probably for several centuries, without any particular human intervention. In this respect, and by its spectacular development, it is certainly a unique and quite exceptional example.”

Although it blooms every May, the vine no longer produces fruit. It is about 100 meters (328 feet) long and has 9 shoots (trunks), which spread in a grove of hollow oak bushes (Quercus coccifera). Many of its branches have even climbed the oak bushes. It should be noted that, according to the villagers, many of the shoots were cut by the Germans during the 1941-1944 Occupation.

Pausanias went for the trout

In his book Arcadika (8.21.2), Pausanias claims he had visited the area to see if the rumor that the trout of the Aroanios River sang like the song thrush bird was true: “…here the fish of the Aroanios River are so delicious that they sing like thrushes.” (Greek: “εἰσὶ δὲ ἰχθῦς ἐν τῷ Ἀροανίῳ καὶ ἄλλοι καὶ οἱ ποικιλίαι καλούμενοι: τούτους λέγουσι τοὺς ποικιλίας φθέγγεσθαι κίχλῃ τῇ ὄρνιθι ἐοικός.”)

The ancient Greek geographer discovered that local gourmands had a metaphor to describe the flavorful Aroanios River trout. Later on, he sought the shade of the vine, which he found impressive. The villagers hosted him, providing him with a trout meal and offering him water from the nearby spring.

Ancient legends connect the Vine of Pausanias with the third of the twelve labors of Heracles, which was to capture the Ceryneian Hind, the golden-horned deer sacred to Artemis. According to the legend, while the hero was on the hunt for the deer, it reached the vine, and its long horns became tangled, enabling Heracles to capture it. Due to this myth, the location of the Vine of Pausanias had also been named Kynigari (Greek: Κυνηγάρι), meaning “hunting place” in Greek.

Protected national monument

The vine was declared a Protected Natural Monument in 1975 (Government Gazette 738/B/1975). Regarding the vine’s physical condition, the scientific committee of the ECOCITY NGO estimates that the original trunks of the plant have disappeared due to the natural deterioration of time, while their remaining lower parts, which are one to one and a half meters high and at least 50 centimeters in diameter, have dried out.

Many other shoots have emerged from the numerous branches of the roots, climbing the tree-like oak bush forms. However, ECOCITY estimates that the condition of these “trunk shoots” seems almost hopeless, suggesting that the unique natural monument could potentially permanently disappear after about three thousand years.

To avoid destruction of the Vine of Pausanias, ECOCITY has long since forwarded a request to the competent services responsible for its preservation and maintenance. This in relation to the desired cooperation with the Viticulture and Arboriculture Laboratories of the Agricultural University of Athens so that they may take immediate action to improve the vine’s physical condition and prevent its complete demise.

In May 2014, with permission granted by the Ministry of Environment, Energy, and Climate Change, the members of the scientific committee of the Western Greece Sector of ECOCITY visited the Vine of Pausanias. They extracted samples from the trunks to determine precise dating. The team consisted of foresters and agriculturalists who then sent the samples to the head of the Archaeometry Laboratory of the NCSR “Demokritos.”

Unique and distinctive genotype

Genetic analysis of the Vine of Pausanias was carried out. Twenty microsatellite markers distributed throughout the genome were studied for this purpose, and comparison with 119 Greek varieties and 762 species of wild vines was performed.

The comparison to all the varieties in the Vassal collection (over 3000) proved that the vine’s profile is of a unique and distinctive genotype.

Its age is estimated to be several centuries old, but the number cannot be definitively determined. Its flowers are only ‘male,’ meaning the vine is not fruit-bearing.

Compared to other representatives of Vitis vinifera, wild or cultivated, that exist today in the world, the Vine of Pausanias is of a particularly original genotype, probably resulting from a limited number of sexual generations which have also undergone only few cycles of vegetative multiplication. In this regard, it is certainly a fascinating model for studies on the evolution and dynamics of the vine genome.

Most people today know of the Colossus of Rhodes as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, but there are many little-known facts about the masterpiece that may surprise you.

The ancient island of Rhodes, the kállistin (best) of the Greek cities as historians like to call it, has long attracted the attention of the world due to its beautiful beaches, rich history, and advanced civilization that stretches far back in time.

Rhodes was a city with philosophical and other schools, conservatories, markets, stadiums, harbors, and at least 3,000 public statues.

The masterpiece of all, though, was the Colossus of Rhodes, built between 292 to 280 BC. The huge bronze statue was about 30 meters (98.4 feet) tall and portrayed the god of the Sun, Helios.

The construction of the Colossus lasted for 12 years, but the statue was destroyed a few decades later in 226 BC by an earthquake.

Lesser known facts about the Colossus of Rhodes

The Colossus of Rhodes and the Statue of Liberty

Both monuments were built as symbols of freedom, and people have made the connection between both statues since the Statue of Liberty was created.

The Statue of Liberty has been referred to as the “Modern Colossus” and stands just a little higher at 34 meters (111.5 feet) tall.

There is also a plaque inside the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty that is inscribed with a sonnet title “The New Colossus, not like the brazen giant of Greek fame.”

The debate about the statue’s feet

There has been a debate among historians about whether the statue was standing with one foot on either side of the Rhodes harbor.

Some have discounted this theory and believe that he stood in a more usual Greek statue pose on one side of the harbor.

If the Colossus of Rhodes was built with its legs straddling the harbor, then the harbor would have had to have been closed for 12 years for the initial construction, and then it would have once again been blocked for years when the statue fell.

The statue has an iron skeleton

The statue was actually built with an iron frame like a skeleton over which the Rhodians placed carved and sculptured brass plates to create the outer structure of Helios, creating his muscle and skin.

Chares of Lindos designed the Colossus of Rhodes

We owe the design of the Colossus of Rhodes to Chares of Lindos. Chares was a student of the famous sculptor Lysippus, who had previously created a 19-meter (62 foot) tall statue of Zeus.

The metal used to construct the statue later scrapped, sold

In the 7th century A.D., the Arabs conquered Rhodes and dismantled any remnant of the Colossus of Rhodes after it was toppled by an earthquake and later sold the once beautiful statue as scrap metal.

It took approximately 900 camels to carry away all the scrap metal.

Was the destruction of the Colossus the will of the gods?

Finally, Ptolemy III, the king of Egypt, offered to pay for the Colossus’ reconstruction, but the Rhodians refused because they believed that Helios, having been angered by the construction of the statue, was the one who caused the earthquake that destroyed it.

The formation of the Roman Empire was a gradual process, unfolding over several centuries. Nevertheless, there is one specific year that we can point to as arguably the single most significant year in the formation of the Roman Empire. This was the year 146 BCE. How did the events of this year lead to the creation of the Roman Empire?

The gradual formation of the Roman Empire

In an administrative sense, the Roman Empire was founded in the year 27 BCE. This was when Octavian, the son of Julius Caesar, became the emperor. The Roman Senate recognized him as possessing overarching military power and designated him Augustus in recognition of his new position as emperor.

Octavian established reforms to the constitution, officially changing Rome into an empire. Hence, in 27 BCE, the Roman Empire came into existence. Before then, it had been a republic.

However, although it only became an empire in an administrative sense in 27 BCE, Rome already controlled a vast empire before that. In the basic sense of “a group of countries ruled by a single person, government, or country“, Rome was already an empire long before the days of Octavian.

The Roman Republic conquered most of the territory that would constitute the future Empire. Therefore, to understand how Rome became powerful, we need to examine that era.

The acquisition of territory was a gradual process that took several centuries. However, the year 146 BCE, arguably more than any other, was crucial in the formation of the Roman Empire.

The Battle of Corinth

In 146 BCE, two significant events occurred for the Romans. One of these was the Battle of Corinth, marking the culmination of the Achaean War, which lasted only a single year.

At that time, the Achaean League ruled over the Peloponnese. They had recently assimilated Sparta into the league, which troubled Rome. Both sides were concerned with the other’s expansionist tendencies. Rome had conquered Macedonia in the early part of the second century BCE and had reconquered it in 150-148 BCE.

In the final year of the war against Macedonia, the Achaean League took control of Sparta, solidifying their hold on the Peloponnese. With tensions high due to the actions of both sides, war broke out two years later, in 146 BCE.

The war did not last long. The Achaean League was woefully unprepared, both militarily and financially, for a full-scale war against Rome. The Romans quickly subdued the Greek cities, many of which took the initiative to surrender.

A Roman consul and military general named Lucius Mummius led the Romans in their siege of Corinth. This was the climax of the war. The Romans successfully defeated and utterly destroyed it. Their brutality was noted even by ancient historians. With this victory, the Romans gained direct control of all of Greece.

The Siege of Carthage

The same year, 146 BCE, also marked the climax of another war. The war in question was the Third Punic War. This was the third war between the Roman Republic and the Carthaginian Empire.

Carthage was located in modern-day Tunisia. Rome had already defeated them in the Second Punic War, which had ended in 201 BCE. One of the terms of the treaty was that Carthage was prohibited from engaging in war without Rome’s permission. This allowed Rome’s ally, Numidian king Masinissa, to repeatedly invade Carthage’s territory.

Carthage’s decision to fight back and send an army against Masinissa in 149 BCE provided the Romans with a justification for a third war against Carthage. In reality, Rome harbored animosity towards Carthage and was merely seeking an excuse to destroy it.

When the Roman army arrived, the Carthaginians offered a complete surrender. Nevertheless, the Romans persisted and besieged the city. Eventually, after considerable brutality and bloodshed, the Romans utterly destroyed their enemy.

Just like Corinth in that same year, Carthage was completely, mercilessly destroyed, and the Romans took over the territory.

How the year 146 BCE led to the creation of the Roman Empire

Given this information, 146 BCE can be regarded as vital in the creation of the Roman Empire. The Romans achieved two major victories this year: the defeat of the Achaean League and the defeat of Carthage.

Both of these victories significantly expanded the territory of the Roman Republic. Rome took over control of all of Greece and also the core territory of the Carthaginian Empire in Tunisia. Granted, this was only a tiny portion of what later became the territory of Rome’s vast empire.

However, the main impact that this year had on the formation of the Roman Empire was not the territory gained. Rather, it was the geopolitical consequences of these victories that mattered the most.

Carthage and the Achaean League were both major powers in the Mediterranean. With their defeat, Rome became the undisputed master of that part of the earth. While it still had numerous enemies to confront, it no longer had a single, major, powerful rival.

Over in Anatolia, Pergamon was friendly with Rome. Ptolemaic Egypt was also their ally, with Rome exerting considerable influence over that region. With Greece and Carthage out of their way, Rome’s position as the dominant force in the Mediterranean was firmly established. It is for that reason that we can consider 146 BCE as such a crucial year in the formation of the Roman Empire.

The very air we breathe here in Greece, the same air that ancient philosophers inhaled, often seems to carry ideas that still intrigue modern minds. And among them, few are as stubbornly persistent and as profoundly unsettling as that ancient riddle that became known by Epicurus.

The question that has endured throughout millennia, posing a challenge to both theologians and laypeople, is referred to as the Epicurean paradox, more commonly recognized as the Problem of Evil. It asks, plainly and simply, how a truly good, all-powerful God can exist alongside a world so utterly overflowing with suffering.

This conundrum has sparked numerous theological and philosophical debates, challenging us to confront its deeply significant implications.

The Epicurean paradox is a challenge to the divine

Now, while we often attribute this to Epicurus, the exact words we use—”Either God wants to abolish evil and cannot; or he can and does not want to. Or he wants to and can, and he is good. So, where does evil come from?” These were put down much later by a Christian man named Lactantius.

He was only trying to sum up what he understood of Epicurean thought. But you can bet your last drachma that the core of the problem, that uneasy tension between divine attributes and human experience, absolutely resonated within the Lyceum and the Academy of Athens, two of the most famous philosophical schools of Ancient Greece. Just imagine, if you will, those heated debates under the Athenian sun, where bright young minds wrestled with the implications of a whole pantheon of powerful, often quite moody, gods and the undeniable reality of plague, famine, and all-out war. This was truly a fascinating time to be alive.

How, then, could you possibly square the benevolent side of gods like Zeus, the protector of justice, with the glaring injustices you saw all around you? The Epicurean paradox, therefore, wasn’t just a logic puzzle; it was a full-blown existential crisis, a question that cut right to the very core of how Ancient Greeks understood the universe and their tiny place within it.

Wrestling with the Epicurean paradox from Ancient Greece to modern thought

Fast forward a few centuries, and this problem intensified with the arrival of monotheistic religions, especially Christianity, which, of course, posits a single, all-loving, all-powerful God. This really made the intellectual and emotional burden of The Epicurean paradox even bigger. If God truly is omnipotent, capable of absolutely anything, and omnibenevolent, desiring nothing but good, then why do we still witness such unspeakable horrors around the globe? Why the gut-wrenching agony of a child, the sheer devastation of a natural disaster, the creeping, insidious grip of disease, the unfathomable destruction of war?

Think about the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, a cataclysm that shook Enlightenment Europe to its core, inspiring Voltaire to write his biting satire Candide, which skewered the overly optimistic philosophies of the day. That earthquake, a seemingly random act of immense suffering, became a crucial symbol of the problem of evil, forcing thinkers around Europe to stare down the uncomfortable truth that even in an age of supposed reason, the existence of suffering remained a massive issue for anyone who believed in a good and powerful God. The entire debate, in essence, shifted from the sometimes whimsical nature of many gods to the unsettling feeling of indifference or impotence from just one.

Why the problem of evil still resonates

Even today, in our supposedly secular age, the Epicurean paradox continues to provoke debates worldwide. While most people might not frame it in theological terms, that fundamental question just won’t leave humanity alone: why is there so much suffering in the world? We see it every day in the news, in the quiet struggles of individuals, and in the grand, sweeping stories of human history across civilizations.

The “New Atheists” of our time often brandish the problem of evil like a sword against religious belief, arguing that the mere existence of suffering is an insurmountable logical contradiction for any benevolent, omnipotent God. And yet, religious thinkers, from ancient Church Fathers like Augustine right up to modern theologians, have offered a dazzling array of “theodicies”—attempts to make sense of God’s attributes in light of evil. Some argue that suffering is simply the unfortunate consequence of free will, a necessary price for genuine moral agency.

Others suggest it serves some greater, grander, perhaps utterly inscrutable, divine plan, maybe to foster compassion or spiritual growth. Still, others just admit that our tiny human brains can’t grasp the full scope of divine purpose. The true genius of these arguments, however, isn’t that they definitively solve the paradox, but rather that they wrestle with it, reflecting humanity’s endless, sometimes heartbreaking, efforts to find meaning in a world that often seems utterly devoid of it.

Ultimately, the Epicurean paradox, whether debated by Ancient Greeks who argued about their gods or by modern minds contemplating a singular deity, remains relevant today. It’s a question that forces us to squarely face the uncomfortable realities of existence, to grapple with the limits of our understanding, and constantly re-think our place in a world that is both beautiful and, at times, heartbreakingly cruel.

So, the next time you are wandering through some ancient ruins in Greece or elsewhere, or even just scrolling through the daily headlines of current affairs, take a moment to consider the power of Epicurus’ ancient challenge. It’s a question that, far from offering easy answers, invites us all into a profound and, quite frankly, ongoing conversation about faith, reason, and that beautiful, bewildering mystery we call life, suffering, and God.