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Not Very Numerous, Not Very Powerful, Not Very Well Organised: Not your housemates, but the very foundation of Western civilisation

The Classicist H. D. F. Kitto described the Greeks as:

A people not very numerous, not very powerful, not very well organised [but a people] who had a totally new conception of what human life was for, and showed for the first time what the human mind was for.

These people have had a greater influence on Western civilisation than any other people or nation in the last two and a half millennia. Philosophy and ethics, the fundamentals of science and maths, prevailing notions of governance and citizenship, literature and both the performing and visual arts as well as sport and the spirit of competition derived their seeds and, indeed, much of their substance, from the Greeks. In this article I will explore the elements of the Ancient Greek world which are still amongst us from the academic to Hollywood blockbusters, coffee house architecture and The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie.
In terms of the Greek legacy one must look at those elements which can be directly traced back to the Classical world whilst also addressing the question of why, despite the obvious remnants of Graeco-Roman antiquity and despite inspiring almost every generation following the Ancients, there has been a recent decline in the academic study of Classics but a continual fascination in Greece recreationally.
The label ‘Classical’, attached to the world of the Ancient Greeks, implies that the works of art and literature produced at that time possess an absolute value and that they form the standard by which all others are to be judged. No doubt the ancient world earned this title because of its preference for aesthetic perfection over technical innovation, hence simple inventions like the windmill and the screw were discovered late and exploited little. This is in notable contrast to our own times. However, for the arts, the influence of Classical antiquity has three aspects–subject matter, form and spirit. The Greek myths, which many of us are at least familiar with from primary school and the Disney adaptations such as Hercules, supplied great subject matter for Renaissance art and inspired, amongst others, Titian, Rubens, Poussin and Corregio. Indeed, Michelangelo began his career as a sculptor by creating works so closely based on ancient models that they passed for genuine antiques. In literature, translations and modern adaptations of epics, satires, comedies and tragedies have emerged in every language; Shakespeare is reputed to have based much of Lady Macbeth’s character on Aeschylus’ depiction of Clytemnestra.
In no area is the Greek contribution to the modern world so evident as in that of architecture, from straightforward imitation to the decorative use of distorted details. Doric, Ionic and Corinthian capitals, marble nymphs and perfectly formed Adonis-like statues merge into the bustling backdrop of most western cities. Starbucks coffee shops have become ubiquitous symbols of our age, yet Coney Street’s houses dozens of faux-marble plaster casts of Corinthian columns, pediments and friezes.
Thus this world is one of the utmost importance in art, literature, architecture and philosophy, penetrating many aspects of our lives without any conscious acknowledgment. Plato laid the foundations for European universities in 387 BC with the establishment of the Academy. English is distinguished from its cousins in the Germanic branch of the Indo-European family by its large number of words from the Classical world. These words are not necessarily massive and abstruse such as ‘catachresis’ (the use of a mixed metaphor), nor are they the language of the abstract thought of science, mathematics and culture. They can be simple words such as art, colour, fork, sex and space. Many words are almost poetic in their origins; ‘inspiration’ for example, is derived from the ‘breathing into’ a poet of his inexplicably splendid verse by some supernatural force, whilst ‘museum’ literally means a temple of the muses.
Despite all of this the value of the Classical world, in terms of academic importance, seems to have withered in the last fifty years. Until the late 1960s Latin, and in many instances Greek, to at least the equivalent of GCSE level was a prerequisite for University entrance. In Italy both languages are still compulsory in secondary schools under the title of Liceo Classico. In Britain less than 0.3% of people study any classical language or civilisation at GCSE level and this figure only rises by half a percent at A-Level. Many universities, including our own, do not have a Classics department and offer very few, if any, modules related to the ancient world at all.
It appears, however, that there is still something captivating about the Graeco-Roman world to publishers, moviemakers and writers. York’s own Drama Barn is due to show a modern adaptation of Electra in week seven. Last year Canongate published the first three books in a series of ten entitled The Myths: Weight (Jeanette Winterson), A Short History of Myth (Karen Armstrong), and The Penelopiad (Margaret Atwood). The tagline to the series is

Myths are universal and timeless stories that reflect and shape our lives–they explore our desires, our fears, our longings, and provide narratives that remind us what it means to be human.

Perhaps this is what attracts modern audiences to the classical world. Though some of the history, politics or art may seem dry or even daunting to study, it is the essence of the Greek civilisation which is captivating. Playwrights, philosophers and poets like Homer, Euripides, Aeschylus, Sophocles and Socrates addressed moral issues, gender politics and studied the human psyche in such a way that is still relevant today. Questions such as what is the ultimate source of law? Is civil disobedience sometimes right? What justifies one state or country ruling over another state or country? and equal opportunities for women were all addressed thousands of years ago and still are now. The Penelopiad, for example, retells the story of Penelope, wife of Odysseus, based on Homer’s account of her in The Odyssey. The myth, updated for the contemporary reader, is written from her point of view. She talks about her wayward teenage son, how her husband was away from home ‘on business,’ her insufferable mother-in-law, her jealousy of her more attractive cousin, Helen of Troy, and her utter despair at being incarcerated in the monotony of domestic life–this of course is not dissimilar from many modern women’s complaints. This updated tale of Penelope has earned the woman who was described by Homer as “flawless”, “prudent” and possessing “pre-eminent virtue”, the title of ‘the original desperate housewife’.
Films such as Gladiator, Ben Hur and Troy have been some of the most successful ever made. In the UK in 2004 Troy came fourth in box-office sales capturing the imagination of hundreds of thousands of British movie-goers. Even children’s films have found inspiration from the great bard. The SpongeBob Squarepants Movie, for example, parallels the plot of The Odyssey, involving a Cyclops, bag of wind and place of the dead.

Western civilisation has clearly grown out of the classical world and has never lost the knowledge and high culture that superseded it. Films and contemporary adaptations like the ones mentioned can, perhaps, be viewed as our generation’s equivalents of Tennyson’s “Ulysses” (1842), or Poussin’s “Landscape with Polyphemus” (1648). Every generation has captured and crystallised some aspect of the Ancient Greeks and I would encourage everybody to pursue any interest in this world, whether that be watching a particularly hilarious and highly recommended, adaptation of a great such as Hercules in New York starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, Brad Pitt in a questionably accurate Troy or even, just possibly, indulging in one of the longest poems ever written–the original itself, The Odyssey. You don’t have to have studied classics to appreciate the Greeks: who, after all, is not familiar with the phrase the “face that launched a thousand ships” or the story of the Trojan Horse?

This article is from: Arts, Volume 1, Issue 1

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