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.

Recent research shows that ancient Greeks used a primitive type of lifting machine to move heavy stones before they began using cranes 2,500 years ago.

It is commonly believed that the foremost discovery of the ancient Greeks in building technology is the crane. Yet, enormous stone structures were known to have been built in Greece at least 150 years before the use of cranes themselves.

Cranes first appeared in the late sixth century BC, according to research published in the Annual of the British School at Athens, but their mechanical forerunners were used in buildings such as the Temples of Isthmia and Corinth at least 150 years before that, around the middle of the seventh century BC.

The researchers say that ancient Greeks were likely to have first used ramps made of earth or mudbrick to lift the heavy stone blocks used in major construction. The lifting devices are thought to have been similar to the ones used by ancient Egyptians and Assyrians centuries earlier.

The precursor of the crane lifting machine

The paper, written by Alessandro Pierattini, an assistant professor of architecture at the University of Notre Dame, argues that a kind of lifting machine used by the ancient Greeks was the next precursor to the crane, one which was capable of lifting ashlar blocks weighing over 200 to 400 kilograms (440 to 880 pounds).

The lifting machine was originally invented by the Corinthians, who used it to build ships and for lowering heavy sarcophagi into narrow, deep burial pits. It was not a crane, since it did not use winches or hoists. Instead, the builders redirected the force of the weight by using a rope passed over a frame.

“This kind of masonry represents a crucial step in the development of Greek monumental stone architecture, marking a departure both from mudbrick construction, which had been the norm for most Greek buildings, and from previous experiments with stone construction,” Pierattini writes.

The first documented use of the lever in Greek temples

Evidence of the device is considered to be grooves etched onto the bottom of stones used to construct the Corinth and Isthmia temples. These grooves are familiar to historians, but until now, it had been unknown if the grooves had occurred as a result of lifting the blocks during the building process or from moving them around in quarries.

For the study, Pierattini studied stone blocks used in early Greek temples while he also engaged in some hands-on experimental archaeology. He studied the blocks from the mid-seventh-century temples at Corinth and Isthmia and their peculiar markings—two parallel rope-grooves cut into their undersides which turned up on one end.

Using actual stones and ropes, Pierattini found that the grooves could have served a dual function, allowing builders to both lift the blocks and position them tightly against their neighbors along the walls of buildings.

“With heavy stone blocks and high friction between stone surfaces, this was a highly problematic step of construction that in later times would require sets of purpose-made holes for using metal levers,” said Pierattini.

“Μy paper demonstrates that the builders of the early temples at Corinth and Isthmia were already using levers for the final setting of the blocks. This represents the first documented use of the lever in Greek architecture,” the professor explained to Gizmodo.

He was the swift-footed Achilles, the greatest warrior of the Trojan War, a semi-divine hero whose very name was synonymous with speed and power. And yet, for centuries, the smart brilliance of an ancient Greek philosopher has left him perpetually—and quite comically—stuck behind a tortoise. Zeno’s paradox presents a philosophical conundrum that still captivates people millennia after it first questioned the intellectual doctrines of Ancient Greece.

It is a paradox that prompts us to question the nature of motion and reality itself. Specifically, it compels us to explore the infinite—a concept that still confounds quantum physicists today.

Zeno’s Paradox: The problem with Achilles and infinite steps

Picture the scene: Achilles, in all his glorious, muscular beauty, lines up against a tortoise. The tortoise, naturally, gets a head start—a gesture of fair play, one might say, that quickly devolves into philosophical torture.

During this event, Achilles, being well, would instantly sprint past the slow tortoise. But Zeno, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, argued otherwise. Before Achilles can even reach the position where the tortoise started, the cute little animal will have managed to go forward a little compared to its initial position.

When Achilles finally arrives at that particular spot, the tortoise has moved again. This would carry on forever. This continuous cycle, Zeno noticed, continues ad infinitum, meaning Achilles is forever playing catch-up, never truly reaching the tortoise. It sounds childish and blatantly wrong, but is it? Think about it. It makes sense. It’s enough, at least, to make you wonder about what’s real and what isn’t.

This confused the ancient Greeks, whose understanding of infinity was still rudimentary. It challenged the very idea of continuous motion, suggesting that movement itself might be an illusion, a series of frozen moments rather than a fluid progression. Indeed, Zeno’s mentor, Parmenides, had famously argued that reality was static and unchanging, and our perception of movement was nothing but a trick of the senses.

Zeno, always the loyal—and brilliant—student, used his paradoxical skills skillfully as an intellectual shield for this peculiar paradox. One can almost imagine the expressions on the faces of Athenian philosophers as Zeno calmly explained why their fastest runner could never quite outrun a slow tortoise.

Of course, modern humans comprehend concepts such as calculus, therefore understanding that Zeno’s apparent deadlock is resolved. Mathematicians like Newton and Leibniz, centuries later, demonstrated that an infinite series of ever-decreasing distances can indeed sum to a finite total.

This means that in Zeno’s paradox, Achilles does overtake the tortoise; the finish line, for him, is not an illusion. Yet, to dismiss Zeno’s paradox completely as a mathematical footnote and a logical mistake would be to miss its profound impact on human thought.

It was a puzzle that had such a consequential effect that it shaped our understanding of the universe. Consider quantum mechanics, for example, where particles seem to exist in multiple states simultaneously—a concept similar to Zeno’s discomfiting fragmentation of reality.

Our digital devices work by breaking down continuous processes into tiny, distinctive steps. This is similar to how a movie creates the illusion of motion from individual frames. This approach, which traces back to Zeno’s ideas about infinitely dividing space and time, is embedded in much of our modern technology.

However, beyond academia and the complex equations of physics that ordinary people can’t even comprehend, the paradox of Achilles and the tortoise has a surprisingly relatable, almost melancholic, wisdom for our own lives that is easier to grasp.

Achilles and the tortoise as a modern metaphor for our lives

How many times have we felt like Achilles, tirelessly chasing a goal, a dream, or even just the promise of a calmer, better tomorrow, only for it to perpetually remain just out of reach? Life, too, often feels like a series of infinite, tiny steps, each requiring immense effort, each seeming to bring us no closer to the finish line despite the progress we make daily.

Yet, Achilles and the tortoise, when illuminated by the light of calculus, can become a story of hope. It tells us that even an infinite process can have a finite, tangible result, perhaps representing the better tomorrow we all strive for. Progress is undeniably real, however gradually it arrives.

So, the next time you feel stuck, relentlessly pursuing a goal that seems to go further away with every step, remember Achilles and that remarkably slow tortoise.

Zeno, the ancient Greek mastermind, may have created this paradox to confound his contemporaries. But in doing so, he left us with a timeless truth: movement—whether through space, thought, or life itself—is never as simple as it appears. Yet, if we keep putting one foot in front of the other, even if the journey feels impossibly long, like Achilles, we will get there. Eventually.

Related: The Strange Paradoxes and Puzzles of Zeno of Elea

The Greek alphabet has changed in many ways over the course of its existence. This is hardly surprising, given that the Greeks have been using it for nearly three millennia. One way in which it has changed is that some letters that used to exist in the Greek alphabet are now missing. Which letters were these, and what do we know about them?

The first letters of the Greek alphabet

To start, let us establish how the Greek alphabet acquired its letters in the first place. According to ancient Greek historians, the Greeks adopted the Phoenician alphabet after the arrival of a Phoenician prince named Cadmus. Archaeology confirms that this occurred at some point in the ninth century BCE.

The Phoenician alphabet was composed of only consonants. When the Greeks adopted it, they modified it to include vowels as well. This was a major step forward in the development of writing.

According to Plutarch, a Greek historian of the first century CE, there were originally sixteen Greek letters. However, Hyginus, an earlier writer, reports that there were originally eighteen.

In reality, it appears that neither version is correct. Physical evidence in the form of ancient inscriptions reveals that the earliest Greek inscriptions made use of all twenty-two letters in the Phoenician alphabet. However, four of these were for sounds which did not exist in Greek, so they were modified into vowels.

Perhaps this is where Hyginus’ idea of eighteen original letters comes from, being a distorted memory of the eighteen original consonants. In any case, the total number of letters in the Greek alphabet increased over time.

Why are there some missing letters?

Some of the letters used in ancient Greek inscriptions are simply not in the modern Greek alphabet. Why is this? Simply put, the reason is that the Greek language itself has evolved over time, and the alphabet exists to comply to the needs of the language rather than vice versa.

Additionally, different dialects of the Greek language existed within the Greek world at the same time. Therefore, the needs of each dialect would not necessarily be covered by the same letters.

In the late fifth century BCE, the alphabet used by the Ionian Greeks became the official, standardized alphabet of Athens. Over the following century, it then replaced the local alphabets of other Greek regions. By that time, the dialect of the Ionian Greeks was such that their alphabet did not make use of all the letters that had once been in use. Rather, their alphabet used just twenty-four letters. Hence, what were the letters that the Greek alphabet used to have but no longer does?

Digamma

One of the most famous lost letters of the Greek alphabet is Digamma. This had the following form:

Ϝ

It is superficially very similar to the modern F, but the sound was completely different. It was essentially the modern w sound. In fact, the original name for this letter was ‘wau’, taken directly from the Phoenician name for this letter.

San

Another lost letter is San. This had the following form:

Ϻ

Like Digamma, this looks almost identical to a more familiar letter. In this case, it looks just like the modern letter M. However, like with Digamma, the sound indicated by this ancient letter was completely different. Unlike the modern M, the ancient San, or Ϻ, was used to indicate an s sound. This fell out of use in favor of the alternative letter Sigma, written as Σ.

Koppa

Another letter that is no longer in use is Koppa, which had the following written form:

Ϙ

This is similar to the modern Q in the English alphabet, and that is no coincidence. Koppa was still part of the Greek alphabet when the Latins adopted it, which led to this letter eventually becoming the Q in English. The English alphabet originated from the Romans. The sound Koppa indicated was a k sound. It eventually fell out of favor in Greek, being replaced by the alternative letter Kappa, written as Κ.

Sampi

This next letter is called Sampi. It was written as:

Ͳ

This is very similar to the modern T, but it is unrelated. That modern letter comes from the ancient Greek Tau which, of course, had a t sound. In contrast, the ancient Greek Sampi had some kind of s or sh sound, although the exact vocalization is unknown. In any case, it fell out of favor when this sound was no longer used.

Ever found yourself scratching your head, wondering if aside from legendary philosophers and epic poets there were also any “tech gurus” in ancient Greece? When the conversation turns to Greek scientific minds, one might think of figures like Archimedes and Euclid and rightly so. However, there’s a name that truly deserves a much brighter spotlight—that of Ctesibius.

Ctesibius was a true genius of Hellenistic Alexandria, who, quite literally, set the wheels (and yes, the water organ, or hydraulis!) in motion. Due to his brilliant mind, he laid down fundamental principles for technologies that, believe it or not, continue to shape our everyday world to this very day.

Ctesibius was one of ancient Greece’s greatest innovators

Born into the vibrant, intellectual epicenter of Alexandria during the Ptolemaic era, Ctesibius became a hands-on inventor, driven by an almost insatiable curiosity to truly understand and harness the raw power of the natural world.

Imagine at a time when entire civilizations relied on human muscle and simple machines, seeing someone create music from water or build a clock accurate for two thousand years. The sheer innovative audacity of Ctesibius was difficult to fathom.

Of course, at a time of wizards, this wasn’t a magic trick but the real, unadulterated brilliance of the mind of this Greek man. His groundbreaking contributions to pneumatics, the study of compressed air, and hydraulics, the science of liquids in motion, were utterly revolutionary for their time, making Ctesibius the “father of pneumatics.”

Just think about the fact that long before your car tires ever saw a pump or your pneumatic drill came to life, Ctesibius meticulously explored the very principles that made these tools possible. It’s a bit humbling, isn’t it, how many unsung heroes from antiquity have genuinely shaped the modern world we so often take for granted?

From melodic water organs to clocks

Among Ctesibius’ most well-known creations was the hydraulis, a genuinely revolutionary water organ. This was, quite simply, the world’s very first keyboard instrument. What an astonishing feat of engineering from over two millennia ago! It ingeniously utilized water pressure to guarantee a completely constant supply of air to its pipes, producing a sound that was remarkably stable and resonant. Imagine the awe of ancient audiences in hearing such a complex, melodic instrument for the absolute first time. It must have felt like nothing short of a miracle.

Beyond the enchanting music, Ctesibius’ improvements to the clepsydra, or water clock, were equally impressive. Prior to this tech guru, water clocks were notoriously imprecise. He revolutionized them through innovative mechanisms for regulating water flow and added an indicator system that provided unprecedented accuracy.

For over 1,800 years, his water clocks were the absolute gold standard in timekeeping. In other words, the pinpoint accuracy of your smartphone’s clock owes an indirect yet profoundly deep debt to a man who lived centuries before the mere concept of electricity was even a thing.

Ctesibius’ impact on our world

While Ctesibius himself may not have managed to become one of ancient Greece’s top names, his principles and inventions survived the test of time. They influenced later Roman and Arab engineers and eventually powered the European Renaissance. The very force pump he designed, for instance, is a direct progenitor of modern pumping systems, absolutely essential for everything from our city water supplies to the fire engines we rely on to keep us safe on a daily basis.

His profound understanding of the properties of air-laid processes set the foundation for all future pneumatic applications which today power everything from colossal industrial machinery to delicate medical devices. Hence, next time you hear the satisfying whoosh of a bus door, the gentle hiss of an automated machine, or simply admire the quiet precision of a modern watch, take a moment to think back to Ctesibius, the ancient Greek tech genius.

There is something about Greece that sets it apart from many other holiday destinations across the globe; its mythological sites.

Many ancient societies had different beliefs and myths, but none are more prominent in modern-day life than that of the Greeks. Their creatures have become legends, their tales inspiration for great fiction and their gods immortalized through the continued retelling of their conquests and trials.

Delos: an ancient mythological site in Greece

Matched only by the Acropolis of Athens, Greek mythological site the ruins on the island of Delos are an unmissable location for anybody interested in ancient Greek culture. One of the best-preserved examples of an ancient Greek civilization, the island is completely unblemished by modern architecture and as such, allows its visitors to delve deep into history.

However, it is not just a site of great historical importance, but a mythological one too. It was on this island that both gods Artemis and Apollo are said to have been born. As a result, the island became a sacred place. Sanctuaries and temples sprung up across its hillsides as people from across Greece came to the island’s shores to worship the deities.

The Labyrinth, a famous site in Greek mythology

One of the most famous and exciting stories of Greek mythology is the tale of Minos, Theseus and the Minotaur. Minos was a powerful king, ruler of Crete and the son of Zeus, but after he betrayed Poseidon, he was cursed to raise a son with the body of a man and the head of a bull. Using this curse to his advantage, however, Minos built the fabled Labyrinth and trapped the Minotaur within it. He would then send victims to their deaths until Theseus, prince of Athens, ventured into the Labyrinth and slayed the beast.

While there are no Minotaur bones for you to see, there are two possible Labyrinths to explore. First is the likely home of King Minos, and therefore the most plausible home for the labyrinth, Kommos. Located along the southern coast of the island, Kommos is a great place to visit, with spectacular ancient ruins and beautiful ocean views.

However, if you venture deep enough into the ruins of this ancient city, you will find many maze-like corridors and walkways that may have been the Minotaur’s home; or at least the inspiration for its tale. However, just down the road you will also find Gortyn, a site of great archaeological importance to Crete and another suspected home of the Labyrinth. Further away from Minos’ home, these ruins bear a much similar resemblance to the maze of mythology. Perhaps then, it is best to visit both Greek mythological sites and decide for yourself.

The Island of Ithaca: an ancient Greek site and holiday destination

Ithaca, a well-known Greek mythological site for a holiday destination, is a place with a very interesting mythological past. Most notably, it was home to the legendary trickster Odysseus, the island’s greatest king and the brains behind the trojan horse.

Odysseus was also the protagonist of Homer’s “Odyssey.” His decade-long struggle to return home after the war is the source of many of the most enduring Greek myths.

The famous Cave of Zeus on the Greek island of Crete

Hidden away on the island of Crete is an extraordinary piece of Greek mythological history. Within a cave beneath Mount Ida, it is said that the King of Gods, Zeus, was born and raised.

The Cave of Zeus is a beautiful location, with one entrance leading into a network of caves filled with stunning rock formations and underground pools. It does indeed seem a fitting place for the beginnings of the greatest god Greek mythology has ever known. However, it was not by choice he was raised here but by necessity.

His father, the titan Cronus, was set on devouring all of his progeny to ensure that they could never contest his power. However, unbeknownst to Cronus, Zeus’ mother, Rhea, hid him within the cave so one day he could return to overthrow his tyrannical father; which, according to legend, he did.

Mount Olympus: Home of the Greek gods

Along the eastern coast of the Greek mainland, you will find one of the most well-known natural landmarks in the world; Mount Olympus. This legendary and iconic Greek mythological site is an awe-inspiring sight, however, there is more to it than meets the eye.

In Greek mythology, Olympus was created after the gods defeated the titans in the battle of Titanomachy; otherwise known as the War of the Titans. Atop its peak they then built the Pantheon, where Zeus sat upon his throne as King of Gods and the rest of the deities would convene to discuss matters of the world below and survey the world of men.

Seeing all these incredible mythological sites can be tricky, unless you charter a course aboard Deep Blue Yachting’s luxury sailing boat, the Glaros. It is a private vessel, you can set your own course and visit every site on this list, all in one trip.

By Cliff Blaylock

As one of the most famous figures in human history, it comes as little surprise that the life of Alexander the Great is tied to several legends of mythic proportions, of which several concern the conqueror’s encounters with sea monsters.

Alexander’s armies traversed much of the known ancient world, leaving their native Macedon far behind them. Over the course of their long campaigns, they encountered many strange sights, some of which may have inspired later myths and legends.

At least two historians, from the ancient and medieval periods, described Alexander the Great and his encounters with sea monsters. The first was Diodorus Sciulus, a Greek historian of the 1st century BC and the Arab scholar Ibn Khaldun of the 14th century AD.

The sea creature at the siege of Tyre, 332 BC

In 323 BC, the intrepid Macedonian king laid siege to Tyre, a well-fortified Phoenician city-state on the coast of the Mediterranean. The city was extremely difficult to penetrate because it was located on an island and was defended by high walls that came right up to the sea.

Nevertheless, it was necessary to capture Tyre to deny the Persians access to a strategically important naval base. Thus, Alexander ordered his engineers to prepare artillery pieces and siege works for an assault on the city.

However, whilst this effort was underway, a strange event in which the army of Alexander the Great encountered a sea monster in the waters around Tyre occurred, according to the writings of Diodorus Siculus.

“As the Macedonian construction came within range of their missiles, portents were sent by the gods to them in their danger,” wrote Diodorus Siculus.  “Out of the sea, a tidal wave tossed a sea monster of incredible size into the midst of the Macedonian operations.”

“It crashed into the mole but did it no harm, remained resting a portion of its body against it for a long time and then swam off into the sea again,” continued the Greek historian. “This strange event threw both sides into superstition, each imagining that the portent signified that Poseidon would come to their aid, for they were swayed by their own interest in the matter.”

A less fantastical explanation for this incident is possible than a mythical sea monster sent by Poseidon. The creature in question may have been a shark, dolphin, whale, or other entirely normal aquatic inhabitant.

Alexander the Great and the sea monsters of Alexandria

The siege of Tyre was not the only time Alexander is said to have encountered a sea monster. According to the Arab scholar Ibn Khaldun, he saw several mythical aquatic beasts in Egypt.

In fact, Ibn Khaldun claimed that sea monsters initially halted the construction of Alexandria until Alexander devised a way to scare them away from the area.

“Sea monsters prevented Alexander from building Alexandria,” wrote the scholar. “He took a wooden container in which a glass box was inserted, and dived in it to the bottom of the sea. There he drew pictures of the devilish monsters he saw.”

According to Ibn Khaldun, “He then had metal effigies of these animals made and set them up opposite the place where building was going on. When the monsters came out and saw the effigies, they fled. Alexander was thus able to complete the building of Alexandria.”

Stoicism, was one of ancient Greece’s philosophical movements founded by Zeno of Citium in Athens in the early 3rd century BC.

Stoicism is a philosophy of personal ethics informed by its system of logic and its views on the natural world. For the Stoic, virtue alone is sufficient for human happiness.

For Stoics, emotions like fear, envy, passionate love were merely false judgements and the sage, a person who had attained moral and intellectual perfection, would not be touched by them.

It is a philosophy of life where the individual maximizes positive emotions, reduces negative emotions, and helps him or herself hone their virtues of character.

The name derives from the porch (stoa poikile) in the Agora at Athens decorated with mural paintings, where the members of the school congregated, and their lectures were held.

Birth of Stoicism, one of ancient Greece’s philosophical movements

The philosophy of Stoicism was originally known as “Zenonism” after the founder, Zeno of Citium.

Zeno ended up in Athens after his ship wrecked near the city. He was not a philosopher, but he turned his misfortune into an opportunity by studying all the philosophical resources available in the city.

He sat in on lectures from the other schools of philosophy (e.g., Cynicism, Epicureanism) and eventually started his own.

However, the Stoics did not believe that the founders were perfectly wise. In order to avoid their philosophy becoming a cult of personality, they chose to name it Stoicism after the place they were meeting, the stoa poikile of the Agora.

Zeno’s ideas developed from those of the Cynics, whose founding father, Antisthenes, had been a disciple of Socrates. Zeno’s most influential follower was Chrysippus, who was responsible for molding what is now called Stoicism.

Other prominent Stoics included Cleanthes of Assos, Panaetius of Rhodes, Aristo of Chios, Posidonius of Apameia, Diodotus, and others.

Later, Seneca, Epictetus, and Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius ushered Stoicism to the Roman world. The philosophy flourished until the 3rd century AD.

Stoic Philosophy

According to Stoicism, the path to eudaimonia (happiness) is embracing and accepting the moment as it presents itself by not allowing oneself to be controlled by the desire for pleasure or by the fear of pain.

The Stoic must use his or her mind to understand the world and to do one’s part in nature’s plan by working together and treating others fairly and justly.

The Stoics are especially known for the teaching “virtue is the only good” and that people must lead a virtuous life to be accomplished and complete human beings.

External things—such as health, wealth, and pleasure—are not good or bad in and of themselves but have value as “material for virtue to act upon.”

The Stoics also held that certain destructive emotions, such as fear or jealousy, resulted from errors of judgment, and they believed people should aim to maintain a prohairesis (will) that is “in accordance with nature.”

To live a good life, a person had to understand the rules of the natural order, Stoics believed, since everything was rooted in nature.

For many Stoics, virtue is sufficient for happiness. Thus, a sage would be emotionally resilient to misfortune and would therefore be considered truly free.

According to Stoics, people don’t truly have control over many things and situations in life. Therefore, they believe that worrying about things outside of their control is unproductive, or even irrational for a person who wants to attain tranquility and happiness.

Stoics differentiate between what is and what is not under human control and do not waste energy and thoughts over uncontrollable adverse events.

Where many people worry endlessly about things out of their control, the Stoics believe they should expend their energy in thinking of creative solutions to problems, rather than the issues themselves.

Stoicism is not about having a set of beliefs or ethical claims. It is not a school of philosophy that is separate from everyday life.

The stoic must continuously practice and train (“askesis”). Stoic philosophical and spiritual practices include logic, Socratic dialogue and self-dialogue.

Influence of Stoicism on Christianity

The virtuous life of the Stoic has resemblances to a life led by a good Christian. Stoic writings such as “Meditations,” by Marcus Aurelius, have been highly regarded by many Christians throughout the centuries.

The Greek term for word is logos. The Greek philosopher Heraclitus used logos (the word) to explain what he saw as the universal force of reason that governed everything.

In the 5th century BC, Heraclitus said that all things happen according to the Logos. The Stoics also believed in the Logos, along with the notions of conscience and virtue.

A few centuries later, Greek-speaking Jews came to view the Logos as a force sent by God. In the Gospel of John, Jesus is referred to as the Word — “and the Word of God was made flesh and dwelt among men.”

The apostle Paul is known to have met with Stoics during his stay in Athens. In his letters, Paul reflected on his knowledge of Stoic philosophy, using Stoic terms and metaphors to assist new converts in their understanding of Christianity.

Both Stoicism and Christianity teach a person the importance of training their mind and body to be disciplined.

Both encourage the elimination of passions and inferior emotions, such as lust and envy, from one’s life, so that the higher possibilities of one’s humanity can be awakened and developed.

“If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven,” Jesus preached.

Similarly, as Seneca wrote, “We must give up many things to which we are addicted, considering them to be good.”

The Eastern Orthodox Church and Oriental Orthodox Church accept the Stoic ideal of dispassion to this day, as do ascetics all over the world.

Stoicism today

Daily Stoic, How to be a Stoic, The Modern Times Stoic, Modern Stoicism, Traditional Stoicism: these are only a handful of the websites that hail the importance of—even the need for—Stoicism in the 21st century.

Is it possible, though, for today’s man to embrace a philosophy that teaches indifference to material things and possessions in a ruthlessly material world?

An intellectual and popular movement called Modern Stoicism began at the end of the 20th century which is aimed at reviving the practice of Stoicism.

However, before that, Stoic philosophy served as the original philosophical inspiration for modern cognitive psychotherapy, particularly as mediated by Dr. Albert Ellis’ Rational-Emotive Behavior Therapy (REBT), the major precursor of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT).

In the original cognitive therapy treatment manual for depression by Aaron T. Beck et al., it is stated, “The philosophical origins of cognitive therapy can be traced back to the Stoic philosophers.”

A well-known quotation from the “Enchiridion” of Epictetus was taught to most clients during the initial session by Ellis and his followers: “It’s not the events that upset us, but our judgments about the events.”

This subsequently became a common element in the socialization phase of many other approaches to CBT.

Ryan Holiday’s The Obstacle is the Way; Stoicism—A Stoic Approach to Modern Life, by Tom Miles; Modern Stoicism, by Steve Brooks; and Modern Stoicism—How to Be a Stoic in the 21st Century, by Stephen Ryan are some of the books on Stoicism that have been published recently.

Famous Stoic quotes

“The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.”

“Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.”

“You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”

“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”

“Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now take what’s left and live it properly.”

“To live a good life; we all have the potential for it, if we learn to be indifferent to what makes no difference.”

“Death smiles at us all, but all a man can do is smile back.”

“Accept whatever comes to you woven in the pattern of your destiny, for what could more aptly fit your needs?”

“The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.”

“The best revenge is not to be like your enemy.”

“Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.”

“Loss is nothing else but change, and change is nature’s delight.”

“It is not because things are difficult that we don’t dare; it is because we do not dare that things are difficult.”

“A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials.”

“The bravest sight in the world is to see a man struggling against adversity.”

“Throw me to the wolves and I will return leading the pack.”

“Life is never incomplete if it is an honorable one. At whatever point you leave life, if you leave it in the right way, it is whole.”

“Man is affected not by events, but by the view he takes of them.”

“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.”

“If you really want to escape the things that harass you, what you’re needing is not to be in a different place but to be a different person.”

“He suffers more than necessary, who suffers before it is necessary.”

“It is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor.”

“If a man knows not to which port he sails, no wind is favorable.”

“If you want to improve, be content to be foolish and stupid.”

“The world turns aside to let any man pass who knows where he is going.”

“Seek not the good in eternal things, seek it in yourselves.”

“It is the nature of the wise to resist pleasures, but the foolish to be a slave to them.”

“No man is free who is not a master of himself.”

“It is impossible to begin to learn that which one thinks one already knows.”

“Never depend on the admiration of others. There is no strength in it. Personal merit cannot be derived from an external source.”

The beloved souvlaki has been around since ancient times. Archaeologists have found skewers dating back to the Bronze Age, and recent research looks at the functioning of early grills. In particular, “souvlaki trays” have been discovered dating all the way back to Mycenaean culture.

Therans and Mycenaean cultures were known for their luxurious lifestyles, ornate and colorful clothes, exquisite art, and sea trade with other cultures, such as Egypt. People developed these cultures on the islands of Crete and Santorini.

World’s oldest Bronze Age souvlaki on Santorini

The oldest souvlaki skewers found seem to be those discovered by archaeologists on Santorini dating back as far as 2000 BC. There are traces of the popularity of souvlaki on Santorini and Crete through the Bronze Age, and both Theran and Mycenean cultures made use of this method of cooking.

Ancient Greek texts such as the Iliad and the Odyssey describe a spit (Greek: ὀβελός) being used to roast meat, but the exact functioning of the souvlaki trays was unknown until recently. The works of great poets and writers describe the same obeliskos being popular. Sophocles, Aristophanes, Xenophon, and Aristoteles all mention or describe the popular dish in their works.

Mycenean cooking and culture

It seems that ancient Mycenaeans did not have a large variety of foods available to them. Despite this, they developed various types of cooking methods, fostering innovation. Part of that innovation was souvlaki trays, as was cooking in jars, among other techniques. At the time and for most of ancient history, cooking was mostly done on hearths with few ingredients. The portable and lightweight souvlaki trays changed this for Mycenaeans around 1400 to 1050 B.C.

Academics suggest that an important historical force behind these contraptions was status. While the Myceneans had incredibly rich art and fashion, their diet lacked diversity, though a marker of status was drinking wine. On the other hand, one can imagine poorer Mycenaeans drank beer.

As they were skilled sailors, Therans on Santorini island had begun brewing beer in the II millennium B.C., possibly learning the skill from Egypt or the Near East, where beer had been brewed since the III and IV millennium B.C. Accounts of the 5th and 4th centuries B.C. tell of an Athenian bias against beer. It was considered a drink of barbarians, Egyptians, or even women. Beer brewing was never seen as valuable.

By the Classical period, this all changed. Wine had become readily available to all, pushing elites in later Greek societies to seek other ways to distinguish themselves — for instance, through the use of specific gadgets and kitchen appliances, echoing earlier innovations like the Mycenaean souvlaki trays.

The souvlaki tray

The souvlaki trays found in Gla, Pylos, and Crete added something to the age-old tradition. Similar to modern-day outdoor grills, they were designed to be portable and good for travel or entertainment. Meat cuts seem to have been similar to the ones popular for souvlaki today, made from either lamb, pork, or mutton, and the meal was accompanied by bread made of various cereals.

The clay trays had placeholders for the skewers and, until recently, how they actually functioned was unknown. Researchers at Dartmouth College have recreated the trays using original ancient pottery techniques, tools, and ingredients. They realized the trays were not meant to be put on a hearth as originally thought. Rather, embers were placed in the tray and the skewers were grilled. They were practical, portable, and delicious!

Few figures in late antiquity present as compelling a historical debate as Julian the Apostate’s attempt to restore the Greek gods in opposition to Christianity in the Roman Empire.

During his brief but highly consequential reign in the fourth century AD, the Roman Empire stood at a profound religious crossroads. For a short period, Julian attempted to slow the empire’s accelerating Christianization, launching a sweeping effort to revive the ancient Olympian pantheon and return Rome to its traditional pagan practices. His sudden death on the battlefield has led historians to debate how dramatically the cultural trajectory of Western civilization might have shifted had his reforms endured.

Julian was born into the heart of the Constantinian dynasty, a family that had only recently converted to Christianity. Nonetheless, he became the last Roman emperor to openly support and worship the traditional Greek gods. He ruled for only about two years from 361 to 363 AD, but he acted with urgency and purpose. Julian the Apostate initiated an extensive program of philosophical and religious reform, aiming to reverse the Christian expansion advanced by his predecessors. To the growing Christian population, he was seen as a traitor to the new religious order, but to those who still admired the intellectual and cultural legacy of the classical world, he appeared as a philosopher-king attempting to restore an older vision of Rome.

Julian the Apostate’s early life

Julian did not experience the typical sheltered upbringing of an imperial heir. He grew up constantly looking over his shoulder, surviving political purges that eliminated many members of his own family. Although he was raised in a strict Christian environment under the supervision of powerful bishops, he is often understood to have developed a private intellectual attraction to classical texts and traditions associated with the ancient world.

His life took a decisive turn when he went to study in Athens. There, he was secretly initiated into the Eleusinian Mysteries, an experience that deeply shaped his philosophical outlook and strengthened his commitment to rejecting Christianity in favor of Neoplatonism. This forced dual existence helped form a uniquely strategic mindset. He became familiar with the inner workings of the Church, knowledge he later leveraged in support of his own religious and philosophical aims. By the time his troops in Gaul unexpectedly proclaimed him emperor, Julian was convinced that the gods themselves had chosen him to restore the ancient order.

Julian the Apostate as Emperor and the worship of the Ancient Greek gods in the Roman Empire

When he finally took power, Julian did not launch the kind of widespread, violent persecutions often associated with earlier periods of religious conflict. Instead, he pursued a more calculated cultural strategy. His approach focused on weakening Christian influence within imperial institutions while strengthening traditional religious structures. Julian the Apostate reduced the privileges and state support enjoyed by Christian clergy and redirected resources and prestige toward the priesthood of the traditional Greco-Roman religion centered on the Greek gods.

In a particularly controversial move, he restricted Christians from teaching classical literature. His reasoning was that those who rejected the traditional religious framework of Homer and Hesiod should not profit from instructing it. At the same time, Julian sought to make traditional religion more socially competitive by encouraging pagan priests to adopt public charitable functions, including aid for the poor and the establishment of hospitals—areas in which Christianity had been especially successful in gaining support. He appears to have believed that traditional worship had declined not because of its inherent weakness but because its institutions had failed to match the organizational and charitable presence of Christianity.

In practice, many historians argue that this cultural and intellectual strategy posed a different kind of challenge to early Christianity than outright violence. While persecution could strengthen Christian identity through martyr narratives, Julian the Apostate’s policies instead aimed to limit the social structures that supported its continued expansion while restoring the worship of the Ancient Greek gods within the broader Greco-Roman religious tradition.

Unfortunately for his beliefs, that grand vision of such a revived Greco-Roman empire came to an abrupt end in the arid regions of Persia. During a military campaign, Julian was struck in the side by a spear, cutting his reign tragically short. Ancient sources and later traditions continue to debate the circumstances of his death, with some attributing the blow to a Persian soldier and others speculating—without evidence—that it may have come from within his own ranks. The true origin remains uncertain.

A well-known tradition holds that, as he lay dying, Julian the Apostate is said to have declared, “Thou hast conquered, O Galilean,” acknowledging the perceived triumph of Christianity. Whether or not he actually spoke these words, his brief reign left a lasting imprint on Roman and Western history. His efforts to restore the Ancient Greek gods within the Roman world continue to be discussed by historians as a striking moment in the empire’s religious transformation. Even in modern Greek cultural memory, echoes of this tension can still be felt in the broader contrast between the rational legacy of ancient philosophy and the spiritual tradition of Orthodox Christianity.

No other woman in Ancient Greek history inspired as much fascination, fear, and controversy as Olympias, the mother of Alexander the Great. She is described as passionate, intelligent, ruthless, and deeply religious. Enemies portrayed her as dangerous and manipulative, while supporters viewed her as a fiercely loyal mother and protector of Alexander’s destiny.

Behind the legends and accusations, however, stood a woman who exercised enormous political influence during one of history’s most transformative periods. Olympias shaped Alexander from childhood, influenced the succession crisis after Philip II’s death, and later played a decisive role in the violent struggles that followed Alexander’s empire.

Her presence loomed over Macedon for decades. Even after Alexander conquered much of the known world, Olympias continued to influence the royal court and the fate of the Argead dynasty.

Alexander the Great’s mother, Olympias, and her Molossian origins

Olympias came from Epirus, a Greek kingdom west of Macedonia. She belonged to the royal Molossian dynasty, which claimed descent from Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles. This heroic ancestry carried enormous symbolic value in the Greek world. Her original name may have been Polyxena or Myrtale. The biographer Plutarch suggests she later adopted the name Olympias after Philip achieved victory at the Olympic Games.

From an early age, Olympias displayed strong religious devotion.They initiated her with mystery cults and ecstatic rituals connected with Dionysus and the mysteries of the Cabeiri to whom she became a high-ranking priestess. These cults emphasized sacred initiation, hidden knowledge, and intense spiritual experiences. Her religious identity later became central to the legends surrounding Alexander’s birth.

The snakes and the divine birth of Alexander

Ancient authors repeatedly connect Olympias with snakes and mystery rituals. Plutarch wrote that Philip once saw a serpent lying beside Olympias while she slept. Legends claimed that she begot Alexander with Zeus through intercourse with snakes. According to later traditions, this event contributed to the belief that Zeus himself fathered Alexander.

These stories shaped Alexander’s image ever since childhood. Olympias appears to have encouraged the belief that her son possessed divine ancestry. Such ideas naturally fit within the heroic traditions of the Greek world in which exceptional rulers often claimed descent from gods. The symbolism of Zeus held enormous political importance. Alexander did not simply present himself as a king but increasingly viewed himself as a chosen figure with a cosmic mission. Of course, Olympias likely played a major role in nurturing this mindset.

Ancient religion did not sharply separate politics from divine legitimacy. A ruler with sacred ancestry possessed more potent authority and prestige. Olympias therefore strengthened Alexander’s position both psychologically and politically. The stories involving snakes also reflected the mystical atmosphere surrounding cults. Serpents symbolized rebirth, divine wisdom, chthonic forces, and sacred power in many Greek traditions. As a priestess connected with such cults, Olympias cultivated an aura of mystery that impressed supporters and frightened enemies.

Olympias’ relationship with Philip II, the father of Alexander the Great

The marriage between Olympias and Philip II began as a political alliance, yet tensions soon emerged between them. Philip married several women during his reign, partly for diplomatic reasons. However, these marriages threatened Alexander’s position as heir. Olympias fiercely defended her son’s claim to the throne and distrusted rival factions within the Macedonian court.

Conflict intensified after Philip married Cleopatra Eurydice, a Macedonian noblewoman. Her marriage resulted in the possibility of a fully Macedonian heir, which endangered Alexander’s succession. Plutarch describes a famous banquet confrontation during which insulted Alexander by implying doubts concerning his legitimacy. The quarrel severely damaged relations within the royal family.

Olympias soon withdrew from Macedon temporarily and returned to Epirus. Alexander also left for a period before reconciliation occurred. These events led to an atmosphere of suspicion and instability that surrounded Philip’s final years.

The assassination of Philip and Alexander’s accession

Philip II passed away in 336 BC after assassination during a public celebration at Aegae. His bodyguard, Pausanias, killed him before guards immediately cut the assassin down. The assassination remains one of antiquity’s great mysteries. Plutarch and the historian Arrian often suspected Olympias of involvement. Some even claimed she honored Pausanias afterward or placed a crown upon his corpse. Other traditions accuse Alexander indirectly as well.

No definitive evidence proves these accusations. However, Olympias clearly benefited politically from Philip’s death because Alexander immediately became king. She acted quickly afterward to eliminate threats against her son’s rule. The geographer Pausanias accuses her of orchestrating brutal acts against Cleopatra Eurydice and her child. Whether entirely accurate or exaggerated by hostile writers, these accounts reveal Olympias’ fierce determination to secure Alexander’s position. In the brutal world of Macedonian succession politics, hesitation often meant destruction.

Even after Alexander launched his campaigns into Asia, Olympias continued influencing Macedonian affairs from afar. Alexander maintained regular correspondence with her and respected her opinions deeply. Both Arrian and Plutarch suggested that Olympias frequently warned him about political rivals and court intrigues. At times, her intense personality resulted in tension with Antipater, whom Alexander left in charge of Macedon during the eastern campaigns. Their rivalry became one of the defining political conflicts of the period.

Olympias viewed herself not merely as the king’s mother but also as guardian of the Argead dynasty and protector of Alexander’s divine mission. Meanwhile, Alexander’s own behavior increasingly reflected the heroic and semi-divine identity cultivated since childhood. His visit to the oracle of Zeus-Ammon in Siwa of Egypt supported these beliefs further when the Egyptian priest proclaimed him as “child of Ammon.” The foundations of this worldview likely originated partly through Olympias’ influence, as previously mentioned.

The chaos after Alexander’s death

Alexander’s death in 323 BC plunged the empire into chaos. Without a clear successor, powerful generals fought for control over the vast territories he conquered. Olympias returned to political life aggressively during this turbulent period, supporting the rights of Alexander IV, Alexander’s young son by Roxana. Olympias viewed him as the legitimate continuation of the Argead dynasty.

In order to defend her grandson’s claim, she entered the brutal wars of the Successors. During this struggle, Olympias captured and executed Philip III Arrhidaeus and his wife Eurydice. These actions shocked many Macedonians and intensified divisions within the kingdom.

Nevertheless, Olympias believed she acted to preserve Alexander’s bloodline and royal legitimacy. Her enemies, however, saw only cruelty and vengeance.

The fall of Olympias

Cassander, one of the most powerful Successors, eventually marched against Olympias. Many Macedonians abandoned her cause as political exhaustion, and civil war consumed the kingdom. After siege and defeat, Olympias surrendered.

Cassander condemned her to death in 316 BC. Plutarch claims that soldiers initially hesitated to execute her because of her royal status and dominant personality. Eventually, however, relatives of her victims carried out the killing. With Olympias’ death, the final collapse of the Argead dynasty was all the more imminent. Soon afterward, Cassander eliminated Alexander IV and Roxana, as well, and thus ended the bloodline of Philip and Alexander.

Olympias remains one of antiquity’s most complex female figures, having shaped Alexander psychologically ever since childhood and having encouraged his belief in divine destiny. She defended his succession fiercely during critical political crises and later fought relentlessly to preserve the dynasty after his death. Without Olympias, Alexander’s rise may have unfolded quite differently.

At the same time, her actions contributed to the violence and instability that destroyed Macedon after Alexander’s empire fragmented. She therefore stands both as creator and destroyer: a queen, priestess, mother, and political strategist whose influence changed the ancient world forever.

Every day, thousands of Athenians and visitors pass through Michalakopoulou Avenue, one of the main arteries of central Athens. Yet few know the story of Andreas Michalakopoulos, the forgotten Greek Prime Minister and diplomatic genius whose name the avenue carries.

Who was the man behind the Michalakopoulos name?

Andreas Michalakopoulos was born in Patras in 1876 and went on to become one of the most important statesmen in modern Greek history. He was a man who helped redraw Greece’s borders, solved Athens’ water crisis, and brokered peace with Turkey at a time when Greece couldn’t have suffered more militarily.

Yet most Greeks today could not tell you a single thing about him. History has been unkind to Michalakopoulos, largely because he spent most of his career standing next to one of the most towering figures Greece has ever produced: Eleftherios Venizelos. That proximity was both his greatest role and the reason he is so rarely remembered—a blessing and a curse for a public figure like him. Michalakopoulos rose through the Liberal Party (Κόμμα των Φιλελευθέρων) ranks after 1910, holding portfolios in Economy, Agriculture, and Military Affairs under successive Venizelos governments.

He was not a man who craved the spotlight. He was a man who understood how government actually worked, and he was trusted with the levers of it accordingly—a true politician in the best definition of the term possible. When Venizelos went before the great powers of Europe to argue for a bigger Greece after the First World War, Michalakopoulos was beside him at the negotiating table. He participated in the long, tough diplomacy that produced both the Treaty of Sèvres in 1920 and the Treaty of Lausanne in 1923, the two documents that first promised the unthinkable and then permanently fixed, without too heavy losses, the borders of the modern Greek state. Venizelos got 100% of the credit.

However, Michalakopoulos did much of the work. He became Prime Minister in October 1924, inheriting a country in a genuine, profound, and almost existential crisis. The Asia Minor Catastrophe of 1922 had sent over a million Greek refugees flooding into Greece in a matter of months. From dreams about the reinstatement of Byzantine glory, Greece woke up in ruins, literal and metaphorical. Athens had nearly doubled in population within just a few years, and the city’s ancient water infrastructure simply could not cope. Water was being sold from carts in the streets. Taps ran dry. For a capital city that had stood for thousands of years, it was an embarrassing and dangerous situation. Greece was on the brink of collapse.

Michalakopoulos wasted little time. In December 1924, his government signed a landmark contract with American engineering firm Ulen & Company and the Bank of Athens to construct the Marathon Dam. It was one of the largest infrastructure projects in Europe at the time. The Marathon Dam was a gravity dam built of the famous Pentelic marble—the same stone used to construct the Parthenon—rising 54 meters above the Haradros River outside of Athens. The project cost more than the entire National Bank of Greece and was funded with a $10 million loan. Yes, modern Greece and loans, this stereotypical love affair…

Construction ran from 1926 to 1929. The finished system delivered water to Athens through nearly 880 kilometers (547 miles) of new pipes and was inaugurated in 1931. The water that flows from Athenian taps today finds its roots in that contract and in that decision. Michalakopoulos never saw it completed. A military coup by General Theodoros Pangalos ended his government in June 1925, just months after the contract was signed.

But, thankfully, the work was done. He returned to government as Foreign Minister under Venizelos starting in 1928, and it was here that he made perhaps his most lasting contribution to the nation. Greece in the late 1920s was a country that had been through a lot. The Megali Idea, the great dream of a Greece stretching across the Aegean and into Anatolia, had collapsed spectacularly and catastrophically. The population exchange with Turkey had displaced more than a million people on each side. The two countries were locked in mutual suspicion and unresolved property disputes.

Michalakopoulos understood, more clearly than most, that Greece could not afford to stay that way. On October 30, 1930, he co-signed the Greek-Turkish Friendship Convention, also known as the Treaty of Ankara. He did that alongside Venizelos and Turkish Prime Minister İsmet İnönü. The treaty settled the border, resolved the property claims of the displaced populations, and established naval parity in the eastern Mediterranean.

It was a remarkable diplomatic achievement that helped lay the groundwork for the Balkan Pact of 1934 and brought a genuine, working peace between two nations that had spent generations at war. When Ioannis Metaxas declared his dictatorship on August 4, 1936, Michalakopoulos refused to go along with it. He had spent thirty years building democratic institutions from the inside. He spoke out against the regime and paid a heavy price for it. He was sent into internal exile on the island of Paros. He died on March 7, 1938, aged sixty-one.

Michalakopoulos’ legacy is a strange one: a man who brought water to a thirsty city, helped draw the map of modern Greece, made peace with its archenemy, and died in exile because he would not pretend that democracy was something you could simply switch off. Next time the traffic backs up on Odos Michalakopoulou in downtown Athens, take a moment to read the sign. The water in your glass and the borders of this nation have everything to do with the man it honors.

Salt has played a crucial role in the history of civilization, enabling food to be preserved over the winters until the modern miracles of refrigeration and preservation. This is no less true in Greece, where the salt used in antiquity likely originated from the salt flats in Messolonghi.

According to ancient sources, salt was even used in the slave trade in antiquity. It is even said that the ancient expression “not worth his salt” came from this practice.

In ancient times, most civilizations also had myths and religious and magic rites involving salt, and Greece was no exception.

With tales of its usage during sacrifices and religious rituals, the history of salt is as exotic as is the amazing Alykes, the salt marsh gardens that extend for miles on end in Messolonghi, Greece.

The unique landscape of the Messolonghi Lagoon, the largest lagoon in the country, is otherworldly, and the region is said to produce 60 percent of the country’s salt. In fact, the Messolonghi–Aetoliko lagoon system is considered to be one of the most important Mediterranean lagoons.

Along the coastal road from Messolonghi towards Aetoliko are the salt lakes known as Alykes of Messolonghi.

They are especially eye-catching as one can see enormous squared-off fields filled with sea water; once the water evaporates, the sea salt is left behind to be collected.

The salt comes from the Mediterranean Sea, of course, which is one of the saltiest seas in the world.

Most seawater has about 35 grams (7 teaspoons) of salt in every 1,000 grams (about a liter, or quart) of water.

The Mediterranean Sea has very high salinity—38 ppt (parts per trillion), or more in some areas. It is almost closed off from the Atlantic Ocean, and there is three times more evaporation than there is rain or freshwater flowing into it from rivers.

Messolonghi salt flats home to unique ecosystem

The salt flat phenomenon in Messolonghi provides an amazing view along the way to the small town of Aetoliko, with flocks of flamingos basking and feeding in the nutrient-rich marshes and bright, white salt pyramids lining the drive.

The fantastic ecosystem of the region is evident upon arrival in Aetoliko which encompasses the small island that separates the two lagoons.

Famous for hosting rare birds and fish species, the lagoons are breathtaking and are dotted with traditional fishing huts built over the water on piles of wood.

The drive to the Troulida islet is one of the most sought-after trips in the area, as the sun sets and reflects off the still waters of the lagoon.

 

Ancient Athens is renowned to this day as the birthplace of democracy and cradle of philosophical debate, but few know the story of the city state’s harshest lawgiver.

Draco, also spelled Drako or Drakon, was Athens’ first recorded democratic legislator. Draco was called upon by his fellow Athenian citizens to establish a comprehensive legal code for the city.

Many Athenians were surprised by the harshness of the laws introduced by Draco and baulked at the Draconian constitution that bore his name. Nevertheless, the Draconian constitution introduced several important innovations, namely the transition from oral laws to written laws.

Who was Draco?

Draco was an Athenian aristocrat born sometime during the 7th century BC. Despite his importance to the city’s history, Draco’s biographical details remain incredibly sketchy and little is known about his life beyond the laws that he imposed.

Indeed, as the historian Chis Carey points out in an academic paper published in The Cambridge Classical Journal, “Already for Greeks of the Classical period, Drakon was a shadowy figure. We get no patronymic, no biography; he simply emerges fully formed as a legislator.”

“He may be wholly or in part a fiction,” Carey continues. Crucially, however, Carey sees no reason to dispute the dates given by the ancient Athenians for the introduction of Draco’s laws between 624 and 620 BC.

So, whether or not Draco was a real individual, or perhaps a mythologized stand-in for a specific Athenian lawgiver or collective of legislators, the Draconian institution itself was introduced in the 7th century BC as recorded by the Athenians in the view of modern historians.

Draco’s new Athenian laws

Draco’s most important contribution as a legislator was the introduction of Athens’ first written constitution, the so-called “Draconian Constitution”.

This was an important legislative and legal innovation because the laws had previously been recorded orally. This meant that there was far too much room to arbitrarily interpret or apply the laws. A written system meant that the law was much fairer and more universally interpreted.

So that everyone would be made aware of the new laws – or at the very least, those who were literate – the laws were made visible in the city on wooden tablets called axones. These were presented on rotatable four-sided pyramids called kyrbeis.

One of Draco’s chief aims as a legislator was to bring an end to the blood feuds plaguing the city. He introduced laws that differentiated between homicides and accidental killings and specified punishments for each crime. The translations below provide some perspective:

• “He who kills another Athenian, without a purpose or by accident, should be banished from Athens forever. If the killer apologizes to the family of the murdered man and the family accepts the apology, then the murderer may stay in Athens.”
• “A relative of a murder victim, can hunt and take into custody the murderer and thus hand him to the authorities where he will be judged. If a relative kills the murderer he will not be allowed to enter the Athenian Forum (agora), or participate in competitions or set foot into sacred places…”

Athens’ harshest lawgiver?

As a lawgiver Draco was innovative and his changes made the legal system in Athens clearer and more consistent. However, his laws were also deemed to be excessively harsh and were subsequently repealed by Solon in the early 6th century BC.

Severe punishments were often dealt out for relatively minor crimes. For example, a thief might be sentenced to death for stealing a cabbage.

The lawgiver and his code also attracted infamy for its bias in favor of the elite over commoners in Athens. For instance, a debtor unable to honor his debts to a higher-class creditor could be sold into slavery, whereas punishments for higher-status individuals indebted to lower-status creditors were more lenient.

The English word “draconian”, meaning “excessively harsh” or “very severe” is derived from the Draconian Constitution, which is remembered for its severity.

While Uranus was officially discovered as a planet by the astronomer William Herschel in 1781 using a telescope, some ancient Greek astronomers, such as Hipparchus, may have observed Uranus—but only as a fixed star rather than as a planet.

Uranus, the seventh planet from the Sun, is unique in that it is barely visible to the naked eye, appearing as a faint, star-like point in the night sky.

Hipparchus and the catalog of stars

Hipparchus (2nd century BC), among the greatest ancient Greek astronomers, compiled one of the earliest known star catalogs. He meticulously recorded the positions of about 850 stars, significantly advancing observational astronomy. The fact that Uranus was likely observed and recorded by Hipparchus, even if only as a faint star, is a major contribution to the history of astronomy. It is proof of the remarkable precision and thoroughness of ancient astronomers in mapping the night sky.

Because Uranus moves especially slowly across the celestial sphere, its motion was imperceptible to naked-eye observers over short periods. Thus, Hipparchus correctly classified it as a fixed star rather than a planet. From the perspective of ancient Greek astronomy—which was strictly geocentric and based on Earth-centered celestial spheres—this classification was logically consistent. Uranus does not revolve around the Earth in a way that is observable to the naked eye. Therefore, ancient astronomers had no reason to consider it a “wanderer” or planet.

The classical planets of Greek astronomy

Many ancient Greek astronomers were influenced by philosophers such as Aristotle and astronomers like Hipparchus and, later on, Ptolemy. They identified five planets visible to the naked eye: Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Along with the Sun and Moon, these made up the seven classical celestial bodies known as “planets” (meaning “wanderers”).

Uranus, being dim and slow-moving, did not appear among these and was therefore excluded from the traditional geocentric cosmology, which placed Earth at the center, surrounded by the concentric spheres of the other celestial bodies.

Claudius Ptolemy (2nd century AD), the eminent Greco-Roman astronomer and mathematician, authored the Almagest, a comprehensive treatise on astronomy that shaped scientific thought for over a millennium. Ptolemy’s planetary system included the Moon, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.

Although Ptolemy compiled an extensive star catalog and developed sophisticated mathematical models for planetary motions, there is no mention of Uranus as a planet or wanderer. It likely appeared in his star catalog simply as an unremarkable star without recognition of its planetary nature.

Mythology and  astral symbolism

In Greek mythology, Uranus was the primordial sky god, father of the Titans. While the planet got its name from this mythological figure, ancient Greeks did not associate the myth with any observable celestial body beyond the known planets of the time.

The naming of the planet Uranus centuries later reflected a mythological heritage, but ancient astronomy itself made no link between the myth and an actual astral element. The likelihood that Hipparchus observed Uranus as a star highlights the exceptional skill of ancient astronomers in mapping the heavens.

Yet their classification of Uranus as a fixed star rather than a planet was entirely consistent with the contemporary geocentric framework that dominated ancient Greek astronomy. Since Uranus does not visibly orbit Earth, it did not meet the criteria of a “wandering star” or planet from their perspective.

Ptolemy’s Almagest and the classical planetary model included only the five planets visible to the naked eye, omitting Uranus altogether. Ancient Greek astronomers made impressively advanced discoveries for their time. However, the observational technology and conceptual frameworks available to them ultimately limited their progress.

The eventual recognition of Uranus as a planet in the 18th century dramatically expanded the known solar system and challenged the classical view inherited from antiquity.