Peter Jones

Apollo, Artemis and Orion have not been named at random. The first two are brother and sister, and all three are known in myth as hunters – which is what the astronauts are. Ancient Greeks would have been very envious of them. The satirist Lucian (c. AD 125-180) had great fun with space travel. In his True History, he describes how he sets off with his companions to sail the Atlantic when suddenly a typhoon whirls them up to the Moon, but after many adventures he is able to return and describe what he saw. There are no women, but men act as wives. They produce children in the calf of the leg. The children are born dead but brought to life by breathing in the wind. Men then become husbands. Their noses run with honey and when they exercise, they sweat milk.

What do you do with a captured soldier? In 255 BC, fighting the Carthaginians, the Roman consul and general Marcus Atilius Regulus was taken prisoner near Tunis. They sent him back to Rome, having sworn an oath that he would ensure the release of some important Carthaginian prisoners; but if he failed, he himself would return to Carthage. Regulus went back, informed the Senate of his mission, took no part in the discussions or the vote, except saying that the prisoners were fine, active young officers, while he was bowed with age. The Senate decided not to return them, and Regulus made his way back to Carthage, well aware of the consequences.

Given the tonnage of missiles launched at Iran, it seems remarkable how relatively few Iranians have been killed. But the Americans have no interest in wasting multi-million-dollar ordnance on pain-in-the-ass innocent bystanders. However, Donald Trump is now considering a land invasion. That would have been unwise, as the ancients knew. Understanding all about the problems of land assaults against defended cities, the ancients often preferred to lay siege. That could be a long and wearisome business and did not necessarily guarantee success. Troy was besieged for ten years, but it took the trick of the wooden horse to take it. So when the Persian king Darius (c.

A discussion has broken out about the end of liberalism and emergence of the age of the tyrant. Our political term ‘liberalism’ refers to civil liberties, constitutional government, free trade and so on. It used to mean something very different. ‘Liberalism’ comes from the Latin word līber, ‘free’ (nothing to do with liber, short i, ‘book’). The noun lībertās carried the full range of words relating to the idea of ‘freedom’. But the adjective līberālis referred to the status of a human being in the full meaning of that word, who was not a slave, a non-person, without rights of any sort, but gentlemanly, well educated, noble, magnanimous, munificent, lavish.

The Oscars mark the end of the awards season, with their annual rituals of self-applause to which actors are so addicted, as Oscar nominees are to the $350,000 gift bags. The ancient Greeks are to blame. Greek luvvies and athletes formed the world’s first trade unions to wring from their sponsors privileges and guarantees which make the Olympic Committee look like beginners.  The luvvies’ worldwide union, founded in the 3rd century bc, lasted 600 years. It came to be called the ‘Artists [some said ‘Toadies’] of Dionysus’. They negotiated freedom of travel and immunity from military service, taxation and arrest, and came from all over the Greek-speaking world to perform.

Those for whom the welfare state does not provide as much welfare as they would like might care to reflect on the plight of the Romans, for whom there was no such thing as the welfare state. A superb monograph by Kim Bowes, Surviving Rome: The Economic Lives of the Ninety Percent, drawing on papyrus and other finds from across the Roman and Egyptian worlds, shows in fascinating detail how the poor survived. She defines the poor as the c. 90 per cent who ‘worked with their hands’, most of whom were farmers renting their farm (rents were not cheap). One Soterichos rented a number of small, scattered plots, with small yields, and died in debt. His wife and children budgeted carefully and started breeding farm animals (very profitable).

In 500 BC, Persia (modern Iran) was the most powerful state in the known world, ruling an area of more than two million square miles from the Balkans and Egypt to central Asia (nearly half of the world’s population). In 499 BC, Athens and a number of other Greek states rebelled against its empire and incredibly defeated it in the ensuing Persian Wars (390-379 BC). The Greek historian Herodotus (d. c. 425 BC) wrote up those wars after travelling extensively around the whole region. He was as fascinated by different cultures as he was by the war itself, contrasting the Persian way of life with the Greek. For example, he said that Persians did not put up statues or temples or altars, or treat their gods as human in nature, as the Greeks did.

Some Labour MPs are demanding that Colonel Alistair Carns, a former Royal Marine who served in the military for 24 years and was awarded the Military Cross for his service in Afghanistan, become leader of the party. The Romans would have approved, but might have felt he was not quite rich enough. Rome fought its rivals for control over the only resources anyone had: land and its products and people. The more territory a state controlled, the more powerful it would be. Those doing the fighting were led by the phenomenally wealthy landowners who, combining political authority with military command, controlled the Senate. Success in the field of battle virtually guaranteed an influential political career.

What a lot of friends Jeffrey Epstein appears to have had! But what did friendship mean to him? Was it simply a matter of reciprocal benefits and obligations? In the ancient world, such interactions were a matter of life and death for the poor (there was no such thing as the welfare state), and of political success or failure for the wealthy and ambitious. But many thought there was far more to real friendship than such purely practical considerations. For Aristotle, having a friend was ‘one of the greatest goods, because there is an unbreakable connection between friendship and virtue, since friends do not wrong one another: justice and friendship are either identical or very close to each other’.

Twice a year the taxman comes to call, exhibiting all the bossy incompetence one expects from the government machine. Why not do as the Romans did, and privatise it? After all, one would surely rather give one’s money to a publican, even if a sinner. The publicanus, as the name suggests, was a public servant, i.e. a contractor for public works of any kind. Indeed, from early on, wars were fought, roads built and mines worked on the back of service contracts offered out to hopeful bidders, as was the right to gather dues from harbours and toll stations.

To look through Jeffrey Epstein’s curriculum vitae on Google is to be left goggling at how this revolting creature could have gained credence among so many influential people. Roman censors would surely have dealt with him in pretty short order. Their job was to keep an eye on the moral and financial standing of every Roman in the state. For those who did not live up to the standard expected of a citizen, a mark (nota) was put next to his name on the census rolls, resulting in humiliation and loss of political status. Extravagantly flashing one’s wealth about, bad parenting, cruelty, disgusting behaviour, disreputable business practices, cowardice on the battlefield and suchlike would lead to infamia (public ignominy) and expulsion from official positions.

In 416 BC in its war against Sparta, Athens instructed the fleet to break the small island of Melos’ alliance with its enemy. The Athenian historian Thucydides constructed the ensuing debate between the two, here very briefly summarised. Melos: Whatever we say or do, it looks as if we will face either war or slavery. Athens: If that is your attitude, we may as well stop now. Melos: But there is such a thing as fair play and just dealing. You too might need that one day. Athens: We’ll take that risk. But our aim is to preserve you and your city. Melos: Can we not be neutral? Athens: That would be a sign of our weakness. Melos: Will this not make you more enemies than friends? Athens: We are more concerned about those we have not yet subdued.

A party that can foretell the future stands a very good chance of success. Given Labour’s record of U-turns, they cannot even foretell the present. A state’s success in the ancient world depended on its mastery of natural resources: the more land and people you controlled, the more powerful you were. So states were frequently at war and naturally sought the favour of the gods – by consulting oracles, entrails and flights of birds, or striking lucky by means of dreams, omens, sneezes, odd events and suchlike. However, there were no guarantees. ‘A prophecy is the guess of a sensible man’ (Euripides), ‘No good has ever come from prophecy’ (Aeschylus). Menander hit the spot, when a character desired ‘A future not as I wish, but to my benefit.

One rather hopes the assisted dying bill will be talked out in the House of Lords. We have no say on matters of government policy, sovereignty, international law (and much else). But this bill is far too controversial, and personally significant, for MPs alone to adjudge. We need a touch of democratic Athens, whose citizens determined all political and legal outcomes. Citizen arbitration was used to settle most cases. Take Neaira. Not an Athenian, she had been trafficked from birth, but saving what money she earned, she eventually bought her freedom, with help from a large sum donated by the Athenian Phrynion. But she tired of him touting her around high-class orgies, took what she reckoned she was entitled to, and walked out.

Has any public figure of recent memory ever admitted to feeling shame for anything they have said or done? As a moral term ‘shame’ appears to have disappeared almost entirely from normal discourse (bar the self-satisfied ‘fat-shaming’). That tells us much about ourselves. Aristotle discusses the term in some depth. He does not see it as an active virtue, but rather as a ‘condition involving a range of feelings’, which he defines as: ‘A kind of pain and agitation concerning the class of evils, whether present, past or future, that seem to bring a person into disrespect’. His definition is well in tune with the evidence of ancient Greek literature, in which the presence or absence of shame puts your reputation at stake.

What with the threat of global warming and nuclear war, the new year might start with a big bang. The Greeks were preoccupied with this possibility as well and called it the apocalypse (apokalupsis), meaning ‘uncovering’ or ‘revelation’. It has a long history behind it. The Greek farmer-poet Hesiod (c. 700 BC) introduced the idea of a sequence of five ages – golden, silver, bronze, heroic, iron, each worse than the other – repeated five times and ending in total destruction. In his magnificent On the Nature of the Universe, the Roman poet Lucretius (d. c. 55 BC), who was an atomist, described how a world made of atoms would slowly decay and crumble into ruin – which he thought nature was doing in his own time – but would then renew itself. The evidence?

For otherwise healthy plebs in the Roman world, survival depended on the four ‘Fs’: farming (your sole source of food and money), fighting, family and friends. Everything else that made life worth living meant having some degree of control over your life, which could be summed up in the fifth ‘F’, freedom, or political equality. But the elite had little time for such goodwill towards men. For the plebs, there’s the rub. In the 40s bc, the historian Livy began writing a history of Rome from its foundation in 753 BC. It was first ruled by a series of seven kings (none actually Roman!) who were finally thrown out as tyrants in 509 BC.

The Pope is visiting Lebanon and Turkey. Will anyone be raising the vexed question of the Latin mass and sacraments with him and asking him exactly why it is so vexed? Though Jesus spoke Aramaic, the New Testament first appeared in Greek in the 1st century ad because that was the common language of the Mediterranean. It remained the language of the liturgy until Pope Damasus I (d. ad 384) invited St Jerome to translate the whole Bible into Latin (the Vulgate: vulgatus, ‘widely used, common’). The Roman empire collapsed in the 5th century ad and local languages started replacing Latin, but the Roman liturgy remained standard in western Europe. It was not until 1546 that the Vulgate was declared the inspired word of God.