Owen Rees

This volume sheds new light on the experience of ancient Greek warfare by identifying and examining three fundamental transitions undergone by the classical Athenian hoplite as a result of his military service: his departure to war, his homecoming from war having survived, and his homecoming from war having died.

As a conscript, a man regularly called upon by his city-state to serve in the battle lines and perform his citizen duty, the most common military experience of the hoplite was one of transition – he was departing to or returning from war on a regular basis, especially during extended periods of conflict. Scholarship has focused primarily on the experience of the hoplite after his return, with a special emphasis on his susceptibility to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), but the moments of transition themselves have yet to be explored in detail. Taking each in turn, Owen Rees examines the transitions from two sides: from within the domestic environment as a member of an oikos, and from within the military environment as a member of the army. This analysis presents a new template for each and effectively maps the experience of the hoplite as he moves between his domestic and military duties. This allows us to reconstruct the effects of war more fully and to identify moments with the potential for a traumatic impact on the individual.

Within socio-military history, the diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder has aroused a lot of attention, with many scholars claiming its existence in the pre-modern world while sceptics have challenged this claim in no uncertain terms. However, the debates surrounding historic PTSD have been made without due consideration of the wider medical history debates surrounding retrospective diagnosis of biological disease. There is a fundamental methodological challenge in that psychiatric diagnoses frequently emphasise behavioural symptoms, this in turn gives historians a twofold problem: (1) Can we know whether these behavioural symptoms are predominantly characteristic of our own social normality, and thus their observation by clinicians confirms simply antithetical and undesirous behaviours in the modern day? (2) If those same behaviours appeared in another cultural sphere do they still hold the same diagnostic capabilities? This chapter will focus on one such diagnosis, post-traumatic stress disorder, and address some of the pressing methodological issues surrounding such a practice.

EXTRACT: Since the publication of these two papers, there has been no standalone monograph nor article that has revisited the topic. As a result, our understanding of ancient dogs, and their role in war, has become skewed by the belief that what the sources describe is in fact the truth. Nowhere is this clearer than in the academic and popular treatment of classical Greek ‘dogs of war’. In this article, I offer the first critically informed, in-depth study of this topic, and seek to fill what are large lacunae in the historiography of both ancient history and the historical study of animals. In so doing, I propose a new model of interpretation that distinguishes between a ‘dog of war’ – that is, a dog trained for the military environment – and a ‘dog in war’ – that is, a dog utilized in the military environment without military-specific training.

In the pursuit to offer validity and lineage to the modern diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), non-historical scholars often remove ancient episodes from their social context and retrospectively diagnose them based on our modern diagnostic criteria. This approach reinforces our pre-existing ideas, and form a confirmation bias that does not help to grow our understanding of these injuries. As this article argues, the use of ancient precedents would offer greater benefit to the psychological and medical profession when used to ask new questions rather than reiterate old answers. This article addresses the use of ancient history in the psychological disciplines, especially concerning the topic of post-traumatic stress, and its earlier categorisation as shell shock. Before assessing the non-historical scholarship for the use of ancient precedents, this article sets out the historical debate around the topic and the methodological issues involved in using PTSD as a model with which to examine the ancient world. After which, the use of ancient history by psychological and medical researchers examining PTSD will be assessed. In turn, it will be shown how the removal of historical context has allowed misunderstandings of the original texts and for historical errors to permeate. The story of Epizelus, a man who went blind in battle without incurring any injury, will be used as a case study to show how ancient history has been misused, and vital parts of his life story have been ignored because they do not fit the modern diagnostic model. In particular this article will show how ancient episodes have been used to justify modern ideas and modern understanding, and propose new therapies, without the necessary historical due diligence.

Thucydides’ account of the Athenian war dead creates a false image of a clean and efficient, systematic processing of the dead. To look beyond his description it is necessary to assess the practicalities involved in the process. In so doing, it has been necessary to reassess our own historical models. The logistics of identifying the dead accurately, combined with the amount of wood necessary to offer a complete cremation for hundreds of bodies, brings into question the notion that the war dead were cremated by tribe and kept separate up to their public burial. Similarly the notion of ash or bone returning to Athens is too clean, so use of the term “cremains” is proposed to offer an accurate terminology and bring ancient history in line with archaeological practices. When the practicalities and logistics involved in the processing of the dead are considered, some significant issues are raised concerning not only our own presumptions, but also the narrative that Thucydides himself offers.

For an overview see: https://cosmosmagazine.com/social-sciences/burning-questions-the-awkward-logistics-of-cremation-in-ancient-greece

For over fifteen years it has been an accepted historical practice to refer to episodes within ancient Greek history, and portrayals of characters in Greek drama, as exhibiting behaviours akin to modern veterans suffering with Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Indeed, it is becoming more and more common that figures from ancient history are being retrospectively diagnosed with PTSD. Yet, to date no book length treatment exists to debate the validity of this implied universalism: that PTSD can be found and equated in history, with little regard for the social and chronological boundaries which separate the present from the past. So what is the argument for PTSD in ancient Greece, and what, if any, are its flaws? Presented here are two authors presenting the opposing views to the debate, as it stands, using the same quoted sources to highlight the differences in interpretation.

In the cold light of day, the military performance of the Spartan army is actually rather poor. As a polis they were often too afraid to commit men, too afraid to offend the sensibilities of the gods, and too afraid of their helot serfs rising up against them. At a time when Sparta was crumbling under the weight of its own fear, and Athens was able to haul the strongest military power over the coals - while still in recovery of the devastating plague that had decimated its own population – it was only Brasidas who stepped forward and offered a solution. In so doing, he embarked on the greatest solitary campaign to grace the Peloponnesian Wars.

All soldiers go home. It is a reality that has been faced by all survivors of all conflicts, throughout history – all soldiers need to go home. From the victory parades of the Roman Empire, to the triumphal marches of Napoleon, the image of a victorious homecoming is synonymous with military power and domination. In classical Greece, a land and period that idolised the military man - and the hoplite in particular - the imagery of homecoming, of victory, and of the pride and glory felt by the individual or the state should have been prolific . . . but it was not.
In fact, depictions of homecoming are almost non-existent. We have plenty of evidence for the preparations of war, the individual arming himself, the sacrifices and divinations for individuals and armies, departure scenes from the family home, scenes of battle, scenes of victory and defeat, scenes of bodies being removed from the battlefield, and scenes of funeral rites, but there is not one categorical depiction of a real-life, flesh and blood soldier returning home. Why is that?

Herodotus is most famous for his posthumous epithet ‘Father of History’, but his works did not constrain themselves to the sole pursuit of revealing the past. Herodotus was an enquirer who believed in a certain level of empiricism, a philosophy that he pursued into a variety of fields of study. This belief in proof, or at least a belief in the need for tangible evidence, brought Herodotus into conflict with many of the prevailing, accepted ‘truths’ that were held by his contemporaries. Nowhere is this clearer than in the field of, what we now call, geography, which brought the writer head to head with the greatest authority of them all – Homer.

Socrates was one of the great thinkers of his time, maybe one of the greatest thinkers of all time. He stands as one of the pillars of Western Philosophy, epitomising a method of thought and enquiry that has influenced writers for thousands of years. He is, to this day, held on a pedestal of morality, righteousness, logic and rationalism, and even justice. The popular image is of a serene and wise old man, with whitened beard and furrowed brow, educating the youth around him and dispensing his worldly wisdoms. Whilst this image is beguiling, it is ultimately false, or at least incongruent with one of the largest influences in his life and one must assume his philosophical constitution – his military service.

From the ashen ruin of the old western empire of Rome rose a man so powerful, and so great, that his stature has become ingrained in the name for which he is most famously known: King Charles became Charles the Great (Carolus Magnus), giving us Charlemagne. His vastly superior Frankish armies met no equal as Charlemagne was able to not only carve out an empire that could politically challenge the power of Byzantium, but also maintain a relatively stable realm which allowed Frankish society to flourish. At the very height of his power Charlemagne constructed a proto-Europe, in essence giving rise to the continental identity that is hotly contested to this day.

The idea that women would choose to go to war is one that has perplexed men for centuries. Whilst the historical examples are extensive, the idea is still spoken as if it is an abstract and anomalous occurrence within different time periods.
Even within the modern ideal of gender equality, we still fall foul of discussing women in war as a strange and abnormal concept that counters ‘natural’ order: women are designed to nurture, ergo they must not want to fight. Yet the list of examples of this ‘natural order’ going unheeded is so vast that it does not even allow for a singular, overarching narrative to tie them all together. They are spread so far geographically, socially and technologically, that trying to link, for example, the nomadic women of ancient Sarmatia, to the crack force of medieval Islamic female archers seen in 11th c. Spain, is unthinkable outside of the realms of gender.
We could ask questions like why or how these groups were allowed to fight – but this does little more than reinforce our own preconceptions of gender roles, and point to these examples as anomalies of that norm. No, it is sometimes best to just let the stories and the people speak for themselves.

Highlighted by writers such as Plutarch and Pausanias as the last of the great Greeks, Philopoemen’s career was as varied as it was exciting. During a period of great strife within the Greek peninsula this young commander carved himself a career and a legend that would endure the Roman occupation.
Whilst Rome was at war with Macedon, the Greek states were fighting amongst themselves, creating an environment for Philopoemen to make his name. His career took off after his successful defence of Megalopolis against the Spartans; he spent time as a mercenary cavalry commander in Crete, before being called into the Achaean League where he was appointed Strategos. He spent much of his career fighting against Sparta, facing adversaries like Cleomenes III and his great nemesis, Nabis. Although he saw many victories, he was never able to subdue the Spartans up to his own capture in 183 BC. Philopoemen was offered the choice of an honourable death, by drinking poison, which he accepted, and with that his legend was born.
This article will give an account of his life and military career, showing the turmoil within Greece through the actions of this protagonist. This article would give a larger context to the Roman invasions and go some way to explaining the poor resistance that the Romans faced. It would also include a box segment which would highlight the new form of warfare that Philopoemen was said to have created, using ‘special forces’ of lightly-armed troops in amphibious, night attacks, and full scale lightning raids.

The role of dogs in Greek warfare is very rarely commented upon, and yet they appear so frequently. Whilst suspiciously absent from the likes of Homer, Xenophon and Thucydides; they are common place in vase paintings depicting battle, they are given an important role in city defences by Aeneas Tacticus, and even appear in combat narratives of later writers such as Plutarch, Polynaeus and Aelian. So, did the Greeks use them or not?

For all of the common clichés regarding the dog being man’s best friend, the humble animal has faced a tumultuous and often transient relationship with their human partners. Where-as modern, western cultures often humanises these furry family members, giving them human names and dressing them up in clothes; other cultures consider them unclean and even taboo. Add to this the culinary usage of dogs and we can quickly see that dogs are not simply the friends and working colleagues of humans but a small part of larger social norms and ideals that are indicative of human-animal relationships.
In Ancient Greece the relationship between man and dog was a complicated one; they were household pets, they were working animals, they were sacrificial tender, and in some small cases they were even used as food.

The Amazons were a mythical society which really captured the imaginations of the Ancient Greeks. The Greeks were obsessed with the idea of a gynocratic society (run by women) that imbued the strong male qualities of hunting and warriorship, at the exclusion of men. It was a concept which reversed the Greek norms entirely; Amazon women did not stay at home and spin wool, they did not live inside a militant-domesticity, they had children but rejected the males rather than the females. As warriors they continued this reversal of norms; they were archers, not hoplites, and they also rode on horseback. The Amazons were everything the Greeks were not and they loved them for it.

The Amazons played an integral role within Greek mythology, with many of the greatest heroes having to face them during their most famous quests and combats. Were they figments of overactive male imaginations? Or were they a misunderstood entity of ‘barbarian’ cultures? Herodotus makes very strong links between the Amazons and the Scythian race, and they were often used to amplify the contrast between the Greeks and alien cultures such as the Persians.
The Amazons were expert horsemen, they were brilliant archers, they lived outside of city walls, they betrayed all the rules of female life; they were everything the Greeks weren’t and everything they feared. Their evolution through the myths and then through art has distorted the historical question that still stands – did they ever exist? Archaeological digs around the Black Sea and the Balkans have unearthed graves of women buried with the regalia often associated with warrior burials. Were these the basis of the Amazon myth, or are the Amazons no more than a metaphor for everything the Greeks were not? This article will present these questions and present the different sides of the argument.

What does it say about a man who was considered too extreme, even for Sparta? What does it say if his most dominant characteristic within the sources is his excessive love of war? And what does it say if this man, when recalled by Sparta to face charges, did not go back or run away, but instead attempted to make a stand and defeat them in battle?

There are many ways to tell a story. History has enjoyed telling the tale of the great 5th century eastern oppressors invading the small but free Greek states, culminating in a David versus Goliath victory of democracy over autocracy. The great victories of Marathon and Plataea, combined with the heroic stand of Leonidas’ 300 (ignoring the 2,000+ other Greeks who were present), has given rise to a popular and moral tale of freedom versus control, good versus bad, right versus wrong; of people standing up for what they consider just and fa ir. But there is a different story to tell. A story of cultural restraint, of political bickering and of piousness resisting practicality – this is the story of Sparta, no longer behind her mirage.

The Muses were, to the Graeco-Roman world, the source of artistic expression; inspiring songs and dances to go beyond the human realm and enter that of the gods. Even today, the word ‘muse’ is used to describe an artist’s inspiration and creative source. So, in an existence of emotional expression, sensitive creation and personal exploration, what place did the Muses have in the warrior culture of Sparta? What did their kings hope to achieve by, say, sacrificing to them before battle? Many ancient authors have given very short opinions on this topic, many modern scholars have considered it of little importance; however, with the growth of our understanding about the nature of combat, and with the use of comparative examples discussing the universal issues of battle, I believe a new understanding can begin to emerge.

Ultimately this is a question of whether there was room for creativity, in a culture that famously tried to curb individuality? but if so how?

The Muses may well be the key.

"Gone are the days when military history was merely the examination of battle tactics, regimental formations and cavalry charges. With the growth of socio-military history has come a greater understanding of the interrelated destinies of those waging war, and warfare itself. As this direction of enquiry has been sought, some very hard truths are being realised. Nowhere is this clearer than in B./H.’s well-presented edited volume, which explores the dark reality of war being a spectacle, and in essence, a form of entertainment for both ancient and modern audiences."

The presence of Athena in ancient Greek warrior-departure scenes is considered a standard adaptation of the archetypal 'departure scene'. Her presence in these scenes has influenced their interpretation by modern scholars some of whom regard them as expressions of polis ideology, with Athena naturally interpreted as the embodiment of the polis. However, this paper will explore the extent of her prolificacy, and its relative demise during the classical period. It will then discuss the growing representation of winged-women, and the automatic identification made by scholars with Nike, based upon her association with Athena. Finally, this paper shall dispute the automatic association with Nike, propose an alternative identification for the winged woman, and challenge the Athena sub-theme of departure scenes as being anomalous.

The classical Greek siege has a very poor reputation. When compared to some more illustrious practitioners of siege warfare, such as the Assyrians or the Macedonians, the Greek form has been tried and found wanting. To that end it is an oft neglected area of Greek military history; its absence justified by the under developed nature of its execution. Yet, by re-evaluating Greek sieges a picture emerges that can, on the one hand, challenge this prejudice, and, on the other hand, offer greater breadth to our understanding of wider Greek military practices.

This paper will examine Greek siege tactics and their execution, showing how adaptable and innovative Greek armies were capable of being as both the aggressors and the besieged.  Concurrently this paper will explore the various forms that sieges could take – from the siege of a walled city, to the siege of a barbarian village, and even the siege of an island. By surveying the wide array of sieges available for study this paper will show that the Greeks were very adept in their task-specific craft and, contrary to current scholarship, very capable of this multi-faceted form of warfare.

Battles are the foundation upon which military history is based. They form the core material from which all subsidiary interests must relate, and yet they so often get over looked for grander questions.

It is no secret that traditional military history, of battle maps and tactical manoeuvres, has become more and more the realm of popular history rather than academia, but as this paper will show, this is causing some fundamental problems to arise in scholarship which are still going unaddressed. Our over-reliance upon a set number of battles are predetermining our conclusions, usually in accordance with our preferred scholarly model of Greek combat, and warfare as a whole. It will be argued that when a much larger array of battles are examined at face value, many of our pre- existing assumptions are shown to be false. By showing how the cherry-picking of our battles can so easily create predetermined conclusions, this paper will argue that Greek military history needs to return to basics – and there is nothing more basic, nor fundamental to our subject, than the battle narrative.

There is a great divide within scholarship regarding the use, or even abuse, of modern trauma models such as Post-traumatic Stress/Combat Stress, within the ancient historical context. The split rests very strongly on the debate regarding universality – whether there is a ‘Universal Soldier’. One side stands on universalist principles that accept all combat experience to be inherently the same, and because modern combat produces stress related trauma this must always be the case wherever and whenever there is, or has been, war. Where-as the other side places trust in the concept of individualism, and the idiosyncratic nature of every culture and their styles of warfare in turn, sometimes choosing to refuse the notion of trauma because it is in itself too unique and individual a concept to project through history.

The single greatest problem within this debate is that neither side has really attempted to set down a methodological underpinning to their argument; resulting in an almost polemic argument based on scholars believing or not believing in this universalism.  It is the aim of this paper to suggest a different avenue for discussion, without trying to place a method within either camp. Rather than the theoretical psychology of communal group dynamics, red-mist and beserkerism, or various social or combat relevant affects on morale, this paper will look more closely at the underpinning, biological attributes present in all humans that makes them susceptible to combat stress related trauma – and the evidence for these in the Greek sources.
By identifying the universal element of the ‘Universal Soldier’ hopefully the debate can move from could the Greeks have struggled with combat stress and trauma, to did they? Alternatively, if they did not struggle with it, then why not?

The expansion of trauma theory within the historical field has caught the imaginations of writers and critics alike. As more and more work is being expounded, a fundamental flaw is becoming more and more evident; ancient historians don't understand combat trauma.

What this paper will show is the biological reality of combat trauma rather than the speculative theories so often preferred by historical commentators. By exploring neurobiology this will show, not only the effects and symptoms of trauma, but it will also fill in the methodological gaps that are preventing combat trauma from being an accepted reality of ancient Greek warfare.

Contrary to current trends, such as that of Shay (1995 & 2003) and Tritle (2002), this paper will explore trauma from a methodological perspective, meaning it will focus on the cause rather than the effect; the impact of varying forms of stress rather than the sociological effects of trauma. Most importantly of all it shall be interwoven with evidence from our sources, allowing us to jump the final hurdle of imposing modern science on the Ancient world. From this redirection of enquiry this paper will show how military history can make a major impact in both its wider discipline and the outside world.

For historians studying the warrior culture of ancient Sparta, their solid reputation for dancing is somewhat disconcerting. Usually pushed aside as a need for rhythm within the phalanx, this integral part of Spartan training has been too easily ignored. This study removes Sparta from its Mediterranean setting and brings in a high level of comparison using examples of other warrior cultures from all over the world. Through the study of warrior culture as an entity, the role of dance can become a little clearer. This study argues that dance plays many roles in warrior life; ranging from social cohesion to human expression and creativity. By using the usual set of sources on Sparta, with a slight bias toward Xenophon and Plutarch, these roles are put to the test within a Spartan context. With the use of modern sociological and psychological studies, this study addresses the issue of identity within the military model and how warrior cultures such as Sparta deal with the juxtaposition of removing individuality, but not destroying a man’s sense of identity. Through this study, conclusions that are drawn could potentially assist the modern military and their own issues of transitioning combatants back to civilian life; using lessons that go back as far as Ancient Sparta.

Much has been written on the modern effects of battlefield trauma; it has overwhelmed scientific journals, flooded our media and has become a great focus point of the history of modern warfare.  What it gives the historian is the missing link of individual experience within combat and afterwards.  However, any historians who have attempted to use the template of trauma to examine cultures further into the past, say the British Civil Wars or even as far back as Ancient Greece, have been met with controversy and even derision.  Through an examination of such historical enterprises it can be seen that a common theme arises that explains the lack of acceptance within the historical, as well as scientific communities; a lack of scientific understanding.  By separating the biological from the social issues of trauma, a more in-depth understanding opens itself for the military historian.

What this paper shall address are the scientific fields open to the historians in their study of war trauma and how the many theoretical and philosophical issues that arise can be dealt with, once armed with the right knowledge.  By examining the biology of trauma, this paper will show that history can remove itself from the theoretical debates of social continuity and begin to accept trauma as a natural repercussion of warfare.  Once this can be established, a greater understanding of the societies we are studying will come.

Workshop programme that examines the use of different models of combat stress in the study of history. Where are they applicable? Where are they not applicable? Are they applicable at all? It will be a day filled with great papers, lively debate, disagreement, and of course cordiality.