ancient Greece
Article
ancient Greece is a recurring place in the Astral Codex Ten archive, appearing 3 times across 3 issues between May 06, 2021 and August 16, 2024. The archive places it in contexts such as “In ancient Greece, I think you’d call these people the aristocracy or the oligarchs”; “The city-states of ancient Greece and Renaissance Italy are seen as golden ages”; “In ancient Greece plays were traditionally a single protagonist/actor”. It most often appears alongside Britain, Christianity, France.
Metadata
- Category: Places
- Mention count: 3
- Issue count: 3
- First seen: May 06, 2021
- Last seen: August 16, 2024
Appears In
- Your Book Review: Through The Eye Of A Needle
- The Question Of Separatism
- Your Book Review: Silver Age Marvel Comics
Related Pages
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- Britain (2 shared issues)
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- Christianity (2 shared issues)
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- France (2 shared issues)
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- Germany (2 shared issues)
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- Milan (2 shared issues)
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- Portugal (2 shared issues)
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- Roman empire (2 shared issues)
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- Rome (2 shared issues)
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- Sicily (2 shared issues)
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- Spain (2 shared issues)
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- 1980 (1 shared issues)
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- 1980 referendum (1 shared issues)
External Links
Source Context
Recovered passages from the original issue text. When the raw archive preserved outbound links inside the source passage, they are listed directly under the quote.
Speculation on Curiales. This book made me realize the key role the “curiales” have played in almost all human history. In ancient Greece, I think you’d call these people the aristocracy or the oligarchs. They were always competing with the democrats for power. In Steinbeck’s “The Winter of Our Discontent”, the protagonist obsesses with getting back into the local town’s ruling aristocracy. That novel is set in the 1950s northeastern United States. Or Mr. Potter, the banker who owns half the town in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” What happened to those people? Are most cities and towns still run by a handful of old aristocratic families and I somehow have never noticed? Did something dramatic change in western society over the past 70 odd years? Is this the first time in history every little town isn’t run by a gaggle of wealthy families? I grew up in small town New England and there are definitely traces of old Brahmin aristocrats all over the place. They don’t seem to exist in the same way anymore.
Peter Brown, is an English historian and the Rollins Professor of History Emeritus at Princeton. He’s one of the great scholars of “Late Antiquity." He is sometimes regarded as the inventor of the field (per Wikipedia). I’m not a historian, but I am interested in the world of classical Rome and Greece. I'm interested in men and women struggling to maintain systems and hold off collapse. The end of the Roman society is probably the best documented and most accessible example. Thus I first came across Peter Brown’s work in the extremely readable “The World of Late Antiquity” from 1971. The short, introductory work got me hooked, so I read Brown’s 2014 book “Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD.”
When people argue against separatism, they often tout the benefits of being large. A Canada that would be split in two would mean smaller markets, and a weaker political counterweight to the United States. (Not to be mean to Canadian readers, but this argument seems delusional to me — I don’t think Americans currently see Canada as a political counterweight of any significance.) It would certainly be less prestigious. Large size, Jacobs says, is associated with power, and we admire power. We love slogans like “unity makes strength.” But after the medium-sized country of Sweden-Norway became the two smaller countries of Sweden and Norway, they both did well. Small size is less powerful, but it has its own advantages, such as nimbleness and ability to fail non-catastrophically. Small size also allows more diversity in cultural and economic matters, and here Jacobs waxes philosophical, pointing out that favoring diversity over uniformity is a recent, post-Enlightenment idea that has not yet been fully embraced in politics. We can see analogs everywhere. Europe, split into numerous small countries from the Middle Ages onward, became far more advanced than China, which has been unified more often than not. The city-states of ancient Greece and Renaissance Italy are seen as golden ages of Western civilization, even if they weren’t part of larger political units and therefore constantly went to war with one another. In business, large companies are impressive and powerful, but people always complain that Google or Microsoft have become stagnant and that the best place to work is tiny startups of about 2 cofounders and 4 employees. In biology, humans are more successful than numerous larger animals, and in terms of raw numbers, small animals like rats or insects are the most successful of all. Jacobs’s point isn’t that smaller is always better. Her point is that the converse statement, “bigger is always better,” is false — despite how intuitive it feels for political entities. Just like we don’t view a small nation like Switzerland or Singapore as a failure of unity, we (and in particular, Canadians) shouldn’t see the secession of a place like Quebec, if it’s done peacefully and democratically, as a failure either. Still, some people in online reviews of the book complain that this argument is a bit thin, especially considering that it serves as the foundation for the later chapters (which are more directly about late 1970s Quebec politics). Sure, small is beautiful, but large states are great for stability, peace, markets, whatever. If the potential benefits of small national size are Jacobs’s strongest argument, then we can breathe a sigh of relief and go back to agreeing that separatism is bad. Pointing out the widespread bias in favor of unified political entities does seem valuable to me, but okay, fair enough. Does Jacobs have deeper reasons why separatism might be a good idea in general? Yes, and for this we go back to the second half of Cities and the Wealth of Nations. Why Nations and Empires Fail Our breathing rate is regulated through a feedback mechanism. Too much carbon dioxide in the blood, or too little oxygen, and the brain stem commands the diaphragm to accelerate breathing. Once the levels are back to normal, the brain stem receives this feedback and slows breathing down again. Now, Jacobs asks, imagine an impossible creature: ten people, all doing their own thing, but whose breathing is somehow regulated by a single brain stem. The feedback the brain stem receives is a consolidated average of everyone’s carbon dioxide and oxygen levels, and the breathing rate the stem decides on is applied to all ten people, regardless of whether they’re sleeping or playing tennis. This, to put it mildly, wouldn’t work. This creature is an analogy, representing a nation. The ten people are its individual cities, and the breathing rate is the cities’ economies. If it sounds like a stupid analogy, that’s because it is: “I have had to propose a preposterous situation,” writes Jacobs, “because systems as structurally flawed as this don’t exist in nature; they wouldn’t last.” Nor do they exist in machines we design; they wouldn’t work. But “nations, from this point of view, don’t work either, yet do exist.” The feedback mechanism that fails to work properly in a nation is currency. A currency always fluctuates according to the exports and imports of the area where it circulates. Let me use the Republic of Venice and its ducat as a toy example, because the coins look nice: Whenever Venice produces something (like salt) and sells it abroad, foreigners need ducats to buy the exports, so the demand for ducats increases. When Venice buys something from abroad, it needs to use foreign currencies, so the demand for ducats decreases. Add up everything that Venice exports and imports, and you get either a trade surplus (more exports than imports) or a trade deficit (more imports than exports), which determines the value of the ducat relative to other currencies. In both cases, a negative feedback loop restores balance over time, just like our brain stem does with carbon dioxide levels. A trade surplus, and therefore a strong ducat, means that when foreigners want Venetian salt, it’s expensive. So Venice’s exports decrease, while imports increase, since Venetians can use their valuable ducats to buy stuff cheaply from abroad. Conversely, a trade deficit makes exports a bargain for foreigners and imports expensive for Venetians. This feedback loop is great. It’s exactly what a city needs to trigger the crucial import replacement process. When exports decrease and a trade deficit begins (maybe because Constantinople found a cheaper source of salt somewhere else), the weak ducat means that Venice is less able to afford the resources and manufactured goods it used to import. The people of Venice don’t want to have less of those goods, though, so they figure out ways to produce some themselves — that is, they do import replacement. Later they will be able to export the output of the newly expanding industries too, strengthening the ducat and continuing the cycle. Currencies, Jacobs explains, function as automatic tariffs (to protect local industry from foreign imports) and automatic export subsidies (to encourage local industry to export). They are “automatic” because of the feedback mechanism. Just like an accelerated breathing rate, they take effect exactly when they are needed — and no longer. … Or so they should, except that import replacement, as we discussed, is a city process. Whereas most currencies are national or supranational. National currencies work well for city-states, like the Republic of Venice or today’s Singapore. But in large nations, which, remember, are not the fundamental unit of economic life, they mess everything up. Take a city like Detroit. When Detroit’s exports (primarily cars) decrease, Detroit gets no feedback about this, because its currency is the United States dollar, and the United States dollar’s value depends on much more than Detroit. It depends on other cities whose foreign exports might be increasing at the moment. And on rural regions that are selling resources like oil abroad. Also, trade between Detroit and other cities that use the United States dollar — i.e., American cities — is structurally unable to provide any feedback whatsoever. So Detroit doesn’t get the signal that it should buy less stuff from other cities and replace the missing imports with local production. Instead, it just declines. Jacobs hypothesizes that this issue of national currencies is at the root of every large country’s economic troubles. It is why nations and empires always centralize everything into one large city, whether that’s Paris, London, Tokyo, or Toronto, or ancient Rome: that city, being the largest, is simply the only one for which national-level currency feedback works fine. The rest of the nation or empire, then, declines. But of course, nations and empires don’t accept this. They care about the economic well-being of their peripheral regions, sometimes out of genuine concern for the people there, sometimes out of fear that they rebel or hold independence referendums. So nations and empires will embark on every possible solution to reverse the decline. All of their solutions will look like good ideas at first, and yet fail at helping the peripheral regions. Worse, these solutions will weaken the cities, thereby destroying the only real wealth of the country and bringing untold hardship for everyone. Eventually the nation or empire will disintegrate, as nations and empires always do, and always will. Jacobs calls these false solutions transactions of decline. She identifies three types, and, content warning, you might not like some of them depending on your political sensibilities. Sustained military production is a transaction of decline. Permanent military bases and garrison towns are a special kind of settlement: they import a lot and export nothing. Superficially, producing weapons and supplies for the military seems like a good deal for some cities — Jacobs gives the example of Seattle, which, before Microsoft and Amazon were a thing, depended mostly on making military aircraft. But because nobody in a military base ever tries to replace those weapons and supplies with their own production, the trade is sterile in terms of economic development. In a sense, the wealth is slowly “drained” from cities. Large empires are especially prone to this: eventually all of their wealth is destined to the military just to keep the empire together.
Generative: Shakespeare was the inspiration for a great deal of later work. I would add a fourth: 4. Innovative: Shakespeare was the greatest writer of his time and innovated in new ways that have become standard in writing going forward Richard argues that when you look at activities with objective standards, performance improves over time. It is only when we look at subjective things, like art, where many people believe that the people who came early were the Greatest Of All Time (GOATs). But I think the same thing is going on in both objective and subjective fields. The greatest individuals at any time period both perform the activity well AND find a way to do it in ways that have never been done before. Wayne Gretzky was the greatest hockey player of his time. He still holds the record for the most points (goals + assists) in a regular season (1985-86). He also holds second place (212, 1981-82) and third place (208, 1984-85). In fact when you rank all players by season across all time “Gretzky seasons” are four of the top five and eight of the top ten. When you look at career points, Gretzky has so many more points than second place (Jaromir Jagr) that Gretzky would still win even if you didn’t count any of his goals (i.e., he has more assists than Jagr has goals plus assists). Gretsky also holds the record for most records (at 61). Derek Thompson, at The Atlantic, argues that Gretzky has the most impressive statistical achievement in any sport. The top player in terms of assists last year was Nikita Kucherov, coming in at 100 assists – enough to be the 4th best player of all time – but only the 14th best season because Gretzky did better 11 times. And yet if Gretsky played today he would likely be outclassed by Nikita Kucherov – and many modern players. Because hockey players today are, generally, much better than hockey players back when Gretsky was playing. Part of the REASON they are better is that they learned how to play by watching Gretzky. Gretzky did not just play better than everyone at the time – he played differently. His famous quote “Skate to where the puck is going to be, not where it has been” seems obvious to us today, but it was novel enough that it got put on Wayne Gretzky posters after he said it. That is true for many innovations: What is obvious today once had to be invented by someone, and wasn’t obvious before that happened. Before Gretsky, players played hockey between the two nets. Gretsky played BEHIND the net. He did it so often and so well, “behind the net” became referred to as Gretsky’s “office”. Now it is well known that if a player can get behind the net and then pass outfront it is almost always a goal (the goalie can’t see where the puck is coming from in time). All professional players and teams know that and do whatever they can to stop it from happening. The players that now play behind the net, or the writers that mix metaphors in witty ways are not considered “great” because everyone does it now – or at least understands how it can be done. What made Gretsky and Shakespeare great is that they were the first of their respective kinds to figure out new ways of doing things. So can we quantify the quality of art? Finding ways to quantify Beethoven vs Mozart vs Andrew Lyde Webber is out of scope for this essay, but storytelling, at least part of storytelling HAS been quantified. In 2004 Steven Johnson wrote “Everything Bad is Good for You: How Popular Culture is Making Us Smarter”. In it Johnson diagrams the plots of television episodes. Most TV shows in the 1970s had two “plotlines”. There would be some sort of opening piece for a couple of minutes (plot line 1), followed by the main story for the majority of the episode (plot line 2), then after plotline 2 was wrapped up, there would be a short epilogue calling back to plot line 1 for the last minute or two of the show – very “linear television”. Johnson claims Hill Street Blues was the first innovation on that model. Instead of one main storyline there were three stories – the A, B and C stories. The writer/director would move back and forth between the three stories, which often had thematic parallels to each other. This created far more engaging television, but it was also much more difficult to follow for people who were used to the old model. That increase in complication belies Johnson’s claim that pop culture was making people smarter. But I just want to focus on how it was making stories more complicated – and “better”. It was an innovation. That innovation continued. Johnson explains that The Sopranos was the show to take it to the next level. Instead of just three plots that each ran independently, now David Chase (creator of The Sopranos) oversaw dozens and dozens of plot lines. Unlike Hill Street Blues where any given scene would advance a single plot line, in The Sopranos a single scene might push forward elements from two, three, four or more plotlines as everything intertangles. Sopranos also pushed further into long term commitment. Where Hill Street Blues plotlines were generally started and then wrapped up within each episode, Sopranos plotlines would carry over from one episode to the next. Sometimes a new plot line would be created in a scene of an episode and then go dormant for multiple episodes before coming back. This type of storytelling is common in prestige television today. Even the “dumbest” TV for the lowest common denominator is more complicated than Hill Street Blues (the most complicated show of its time). That does not mean that Mike Kelly (creator of “Revenge”, one of the lowest rated TV on IMBD still on the air today) is a better writer than Steven Bochco (creator of HSB), but it might mean that the plots of Revenge may keep modern audiences more entertained than the comparably slow moving Hill Street Blues (or maybe not. I have never seen Revenge and have no desire to attempt it, even for a more thorough review). The point is that it is possible that art IS getting better. That writers are learning from the writers that came before them on what types of stories people like to hear and engage with. Silver Age Marvel Comics did things that no comic had ever done before, but that does not mean they did ALL the innovative things that could make comics better. There are likely diminishing returns on innovation in art – but wherever those diminishing returns land on comic book creation, the creators in the 1960s were far from approaching them. Aside #6: In ancient Greece plays were traditionally a single protagonist/actor playing off of a large chorus. At some point (we aren’t sure when due to the limited number of plays that have survived) Aeschylus innovated and added a second actor (and shrunk the size of the chorus). This allowed two actors to have dialog and interact with each other. Before Aeschylus, no other playwright had thought to do this. Then it took almost twenty years before a new playwright, Sophocles, fell upon the idea of adding a THIRD actor. It seems that was as far as it went. The idea of a fourth actor would require innovation beyond the ability of the Greeks at the time. Today, comic book storytelling may be at the efficient frontier. At some point between 1965 and today it is possible the major innovations were complete and future innovations were fighting against diminishing returns (“I have an idea! What about a 272nd actor!”). Are the best comics today generally better than Ultimate Spider-man (2000), or other great comic book runs of the past 30 years? Maybe the best comic book stories to ever be written will be Swamp Thing by Alan Moore, Robert Kirkman’s The Walking Dead or Michael Bendis’ Daredevil? It could be that the innovation in comic book storytelling peaked sometime in the last 20 years. There are still more stories to tell, but they won’t be objectively better than the best stories that came before. I don’t want to debate that point. But what I will argue is that the writers of the early 1960s were very far away from the storytelling capabilities that came later. But while those Silver Age writers did not have the tools and experience writers have today, they did have an open canvas. They had “low hanging fruit of innovation”. Lee, Kirby and Ditko were some of the most innovative creators of their time, and their time just happened to be the right time for creating the modern mythological foundation of our time. IV. Silver Age Innovations When writing the first draft of this essay I came up with a dozen innovations that made Silver Age Marvel Comics different from their contemporaries and what came before. Rather than working through all of them, I am going to highlight four of those innovations, chosen mostly because those four are the most interesting to write about, and that should be enough to get the point across. Innovation #1: The Characters Let’s review the characters that Stan Lee had a part in creating between November 1961 and December 1965: The Fantastic Four (Reed Richards, Invisible Girl, Human Torch, Thing – and Franklin Storm (1964))