When discussing the Renaissance, one must discuss its art, and one cannot escape a key feature of Renaissance art: nudity. Next week we will be looking at Renaissance art in more depth, and we (as individuals) have to answer this question before we can evaluate its relation to a Christian worldview.
We started by discussing the idea of the purpose of art. How do we know when art is good, and when it is not? I am no art critic, and am not the person to offer a complete answer to that question. But I suggested that good art, among other things, reveals truth to us, be it truth about God, mankind, ourselves, or the world He made. We agreed also that there nothing is true for any reason other than that, ultimately, God exists. This led to other questions.
If non-Christians can arrive at some truths because these truths reside in the world God made, (1+1=2, we should practice generosity, etc.) can non-Christians reveal truth in the art they create?
If they can reveal truth, can we say that non-Christians can paint “Christian” art? Would this mean that any art that reveals truth can be considered Christian?
Most students reached no definite conclusions on these questions, but I hope they enjoyed considering them.
We understand that creation reveals something of the Creator, but we may not often consider that the body itself is also a form of revelation. In fact, the body may reveal more about God than other aspects of creation because we are made in His image (though of course this should be taken in an exclusively, or even primarily physical sense).
We began the discussion with looking at the three things that make movies objectionable: violence, language, and sexuality. Of these three, what bothers us most? The students and I all agreed that sexuality was most problematic, but why? Answers do not come easily to this question, we “feel” it more than we can explain it. But we gave it shot and concluded that . . .
Violence bothers us less because we understand it is not real. No one really gets shot, blown up, or what have you. The unreality of at least much of movie violence creates a comfortable distance for the audience.
Language may be offensive, but we understand that some people do talk in those ways, and in some places anyway, that language has a public context. When see it the context of a movie (a public forum), we don’t notice a disconnect.
Sexuality/nudity often involves situations where it is inappropriate, but even when shown in a proper husband/wife context, we instinctively understand that the movie makes something public that should be private. Movie violence “keeps its distance” but with sexuality the movie moves right in close — too close. We understand that movies are not real, but there remains an undeniable reality to the displays of nudity we see in movies. Unlike violence, the people really are nude, or really are kissing, etc. someone. Besides, even if within the movie the situation involves a husband/wife, they are not husband/wife in reality. Even if they were–why should we see it?
Having said this, none of the students objected to the concept of nudity in art per se, and again we should ask why most object to it in movies but not in art. What is the difference?
Students agreed that since God made the body and seeks to redeem and glorify the body, the physical world itself becomes worthy of awe and reverence. The Incarnation testifies to the same truth. But while they agreed that nudity per se could be appropriate, we would not want to see the painting of our next door neighbor in the nude. With this observation, we came back to the idea of the need to have a separation from direct reality. Nudity can allow us to contemplate the reality of the body in the abstract, but we do not want to contemplate the nudity of our neighbors.
We took the conversation to a different level when we asked, “Could Jesus be portrayed nude?” After all, Jesus was and is fully Man as well as fully God. Some portrayals of the crucifixion have him nearly nude. Could one show Him nude in a more glorified context? How do we react to this painting, called “The Resurrection,” done by Ed Knippers?
His artist statement is here, for those interested.
The first time many see his art, they react uncomfortably. Is this because we are uncomfortable with physicality, with bodies in general, our own humanity? Or, does the art cross a line, for here we deal not with an abstract body, but a particular one?
I enjoyed hearing the students discuss these difficult, but important questions.
This week we looked at how the Roman Republic declined after their victory in the 2nd Punic War, starting around 200 B.C. and ending around 80 B.C. How did this happen? Rome by this time had conquered most of the Mediterranean and had undisputed dominance. This would seem to be the time to celebrate and enjoy the fruits of your labor, not internal dissension. Why did it happen? We can advance a variety of theories. . .
Lottery winners have increased responsibilities which they are not used to having
More possibility of tension exists between family and friends. Suppose I threw a dime in the middle of class and said that whoever got it could keep it. How hard would the students work to get it, and how disappointed would they be if they lost? Now imagine I throw $1 million into the room. How many friendships would fray and break over who got that much money?
2. The Fighting Ethic
Rome defined themselves largely through their victories in war, their fighting prowess. Now that no external enemy threatens them, they might turn that ethic on each other.
3. Wealth and Laziness
Wealth can curse us in other ways. With great wealth one can avoid responsibility and buy yourself out of difficulties rather than face them head on. Great wealth could hypothetically exempt you from accountability.
We see this “escape from accountability in Rome’s new tax laws. No one likes to pay taxes. With all of their conquests, Rome transferred the tax burden to the provinces and exempted themselves.
But in theory at least, paying taxes helps keep our government officials accountable to us. Ultimately we answer to who pays us. By eliminating taxes they greatly reduced government’s need to answer to the people, and so naturally Rome’s republic declined.
4. Roman Tradition
As we discussed earlier, Rome guided itself heavily with tradition. But acquiring vast amounts of territory (indicated by the map below) over such a short time brought big changes to how Rome functioned. Being a Mediterranean empire meant
A sharp, quick rise of a new merchant class in financial and political power
The need for a professional paid army that deployed for long periods
The need to decide what to do with the thousands of landless refugees in part created through Roman conquests.
Unfortunately, the structure of the Republic made it very difficult to change things, and almost ensured that the status quo remained in effect (a byproduct of Rome’s love for tradition). As the political process stagnated, Rome fell back on what they did best — violence.
The conflict between the Patrician Class (Rome’s oldest aristocratic families) and the Plebians (those who at least in theory supported “the people”) flared up during this time. As we touched on, outside enemies could unite these two groups, but without that, the chances that the old divisions between them would flare up increased. They did, and certain plebian leaders began to attempt to break down Rome’s venerable political system to make it more equitable, at least in their eyes. The patrician class reacted by murdering plebian leaders like the Graachi brothers.
Violence by itself rarely solves any problem. Usually it only raises the stakes by provoking an equal counter-reaction (this is not to say that force can never be part of the solution, but it can’t be the only solution). The plebians pushed harder against Tradition, and the Senate responded in kind. Soon both sides violated tradition willy-nilly and power seemed to be the only cause. This will not bode well for Rome’s future, and we look look at the disintegration of Rome’s Republic next week.
This week we began the Cold War in earnest and took a look at a few key issues and events:
England and America could see the Cold War coming as W.W. II ended. The unfortunate Eastern European nations of Poland, Hungary, Rumania, and Bulgaria exchanged one conqueror for another. Soviet dictatorship may not have been as bad as Nazi occupation, but that is hardly saying much.
Atomic weapons quickly became prominent, although not necessarily because we wanted it that way. Free societies maintain themselves traditionally through a volunteer military, except in emergencies. With the war over hundreds of thousands of soldiers looked forward to returning home and resuming normal civilian life.
But the Soviets did not disband their army. They kept it active and occupied much of Eastern Europe. How could we respond? We could either:
Keep the draft going and maintain our military at W.W. II levels, which might also mean continuing the war-time command economy.
Use atomic weapons as a kind of equalizer against the sheer volume of Soviet troops.
The latter option appealed to us for many reasons, but of course created other problems. If the Soviets eventually got “the bomb,” how then do we maintain our advantage? Do we make more atomic weapons? Or do we make them more powerful? The arms race was on, and one consequence of this was the proliferation of weapons able not to just win wars but wipe out civilization as we know it.
Another problem with nuclear weapons revolves around what exact purpose they serve. Are they weapons? This seems obvious on its face. Of course they are weapons. But can something be a weapon if you would never actually use it? No — then it’s just a very expensive and very dangerous showpiece. But could nuclear weapons actually be used? For once used, Pandora’s box opens. Could a nuclear war have a winner?
So, did nuclear weapons in reality function much like status symbols, reflecting the image of power rather than actually having power? But then again, if everyone thinks they are just status symbols, they pose no threat. And clearly, these weapons posed a huge threat. We could not contemplate the consequences of using them, and we felt that we needed to have them ready to use at a moment’s notice. These were some of the terrible dilemmas the Cold War gave us. The confusion between image and reality bore itself out in this Civil Defense video many elementary school children saw in the early 1950’s:
The idea that we may not have known exactly what we had on our hands gets reinforced from the Castle Bravo disaster in 1954.
At its core, the Cold War presented us with the dilemma of how to win a war without actually fighting the other side. How could you win a boxing match if neither opponent could touch each other? Much of our strategy revolved around the following premesis:
Communism can only survive as a parasite. It cannot internally sustain itself, so the only way it can live is by feeding off of others. Thus, it is imperative to deny them access to new territory, for each new piece of territory will artificially extend their life-span.
Since fighting the Soviet Union directly would have exceedingly dire consequences, we have took for non-traditional, or “asymmetrical” ways to fight. Economic advantage, and our political image, among other things, would play key roles in this conflict.
The Korean War often gets ignored, sandwiched between World War II and Vietnam. I myself usually breeze over it, but every so often the conflict makes itself very relevant. The issues involved deal with many of problems discussed above. Commentators could argue that we
Won the war, because after the invasion of the North we pushed the North out of South Korea.
Lost the war, because we failed to destroy North Korean forces, largely due to the intervention of China, and got pushed back out of North Korea
Tied, because the status quo was restored, but nothing more.
While we could not go through the entirety of the history of the war, the impact of our involvement would have large, though subtle ripple effects in our own society.
The Korean War was unquestionably a war, yet the Senate never declared war. Obviously this was not the first time that we had used troops and not declared war formally, but the scale of the conflict and commitment exceeded previous undeclared wars.
After the Korean War we began to maintain a continuously large standing army, a break from the past.
The war also raised questions about executive power and the role of Congress. As foreign policy came to dominate, the power of presidency inevitably increased, but for the most part, these questions have no resolution as of now.
A brief aside, every political commentator of which I am aware from the classical era down to the early modern age (Aristotle, our own founders, etc.) argued that a large standing army posed a dire threat to liberty. That is, no militarized state could maintain political freedom indefinitely. Whether they were wrong, or our exception proves the rule, or perhaps our political system has indeed suffered because of this is a point of great debate.
Many of these questions came to a head in October 1962 in the Cuban Missile Crisis, where under a cloak of deceit, the Soviets started building missile silos to house nuclear warheads capable of reaching at least 1/3 of the U.S. mainland. We could either . . .
Ignore the problem. Perhaps it would not be worth it to get them out, or perhaps we did not have the political will to stop them from installing them. As parents we sometimes ignore things that we would rather not deal with at the moment. We then file the incident away to be used later if we need to.
Acknowledge the presence of the silos/missiles, but do nothing about it, which would make us look terribly weak.
Insist that the missiles not be installed and prepare to take action to prevent it. Easy to say, but hard to do, because it begs the question of how far we would go. Would it be worth W.W. III to prevent it? Would it be worth a global nuclear holocaust? Maybe we would not actually launch nukes, but do we then bluff and claim we would? Would that escalate or diffuse the crisis?
Records indicate that initially most favored an air strike against the silos. Most agreed that we had a good chance of eliminating the silos via bombing, with minimal casualties. But it would involve a military attack on one of Russia’s allies, and we could not be sure how they would respond. Would they then take West Berlin? What would we do then?
Perhaps these questions led Kennedy to decide on a naval quarantine which would prevent the installation of the missiles, and also give the two sides time to talk. It forced the Soviets to back down or be the first to take aggressive action.
But none of this attempts to see the crisis from the Soviet perspective. If the U.S. had concerns about missiles 90 miles from our shores, what about the fact that we had missiles 90 miles from the Soviet Union in Turkey? What about the Bay of Pigs? One could easily argue that the missiles in Cuba served peace, if you believed that strategic parity gave the best guarantee of avoiding conflict.
In the end the Soviets agreed to remove the missiles if we pledged never to invade Cuba and removed ours from Turkey, which we agreed to do, albeit secretly. Many felt that we had won, and many praise Kennedy for his handling of the crisis.
But as time passed, we learned more about just how close we came to disaster. In the documentary The Fog of War, Defense Secretary Robert McNamara discussed his meetings with Castro in 1992 below.
If these revelations are true, the air-strike we nearly decided upon would have led to disaster. When one understands the possibilities inherent when human fallibility combines with enormous destructive power, we can only thank God that nuclear war did not happen in 1962.
If you have driven much at all in any urban or suburban area, I’m guessing that you have experienced something like the following:
You are at a stoplight in a busy intersection, waiting to turn left. You are towards the back of the line but have a hope of making the light, which usually lets several cars through. By the intersection a person in need stands with a sign asking for money.
You have a few dollars and would gladly give it, but you are towards the back of the line before the man in need reaches your car. The cars start to inch forward, anxious to make the light. You have two choices:
Stop your car and give the man some money. This would reasonably take 10 seconds of time, especially if you wanted to look him in the eye and address him as a person. But this means that you might not make the light. For sure, it means that cars behind you would not make the light and the intersection would pile up, with a rubberneck ensuing that would take perhaps three light cycles to clear out.
Go through the light and not stop, keeping up with the flow of traffic.
If you are like me in the situation I described, you have taken option 2 more often than you might care to admit.
Why does this happen? Why does this feel like a no-win situation? Why do we feel such tremendous pressure to get through the intersection as quickly as possible?
Aside from general answers to the question involving the human condition, we need to consider the specific situation. When driving you enter into an unspoken covenant with other drivers that share your immediate space. When on the road other drivers–and not the rest of mankind–become your primary obligation One part of this covenant involves being alert at intersections. We all want to get to our destination. Don’t be on your phone and miss the light change. Be ready to go. This isn’t about selfishness but courtesy to others. Your primary and immediate obligation to other drivers overrides secondary obligations, even those of greater moral weight. When you are behind the wheel, your fellow drivers, for example, get preference over the poor of the third world.
Sure, we don’t want honked at. But we also don’t want to break the covenant with our momentary “brothers” behind the wheel.
Reading Christopher Browning’s Ordinary Men brought this everyday situation into starker light. Browning focuses not on Nazi ideology, nor the ideologically committed SS thugs. Rather, he focuses on one particular reserve police battalion and the evolution of most of them into mass murderers. We would like to believe that Nazi’s committed mass murder because they had a previous commitment to racial genocide. The war simply gave them the opportunity to enact their beliefs. This would be safer for us because we do not have a belief that we should mass murder in a racially motivated way. Thus, we would not slaughter Jews. But Browning points out that, while beliefs played a role, what seemed more decisive was the particular situation the men faced. Their actions transformed them over time into mass murderers, not their beliefs. Indeed for many, their actions transformed their beliefs, and not vice-versa.
This means that no one is immune. Our beliefs–what we hold true in our heads–won’t save us.
Those that comprised Reserve Police Battalions shared the following general characteristics:
They were middle-aged men with other careers apart from the war. All of them came of age before the Nazi’s took power.
Most all of them had membership in the Nazi party, but most all of those had joined late, and one expects, rather as a matter of course.
Reserve police battalions were held in general contempt by the SS rank and file as lacking true commitment to the Nazi cause.
Perhaps most surprisingly, very few expressed overt agreement with Nazi beliefs about Jews. Some of them even expressed specific disagreements with anti-semitic beliefs.
Nearly all of them had blood on their hands in one form or another.
As the Nazi’s occupied much of Eastern Europe by 1942 they sought to clear the area of Jews and other communist partisans–but most particularly Jews were the target. Himmler and Heydrich would much rather have had the SS do the work of mass killing, but the army at that time fought desperately in Russia and could not spare the men. Hence, the calling up of reserve police battalions for this job.
The Nazi’s were smart in how they managed these men. The first job for the battalion involved murdering thousands of Jews point blank in a Polish town called Jozefow, but the officers kept this order secret right up until zero hour. They let bits of information trickle out slowly, none of it objectionable by itself, i.e., “report to place x,” “prepare to help keep order,” and so on. In relaying the mass-murder order to his men, the major of Battalion 101 showed visible distress. He broke down almost in tears, he expressed disagreement with the order, and even gave anyone the option of abstaining themselves from this action.
But he did give the order.
At this point what options do these men have?
If you have strong moral scruples, you have no time to organize any resistance. But even if you wanted to resist, will you fire on your comrades, men with whom you have trained and share a bond, to prevent such a crime?
If the battalion refuses to carry out the order, what will the SS do to you?
You could take your commander’s offer and refuse to fire on the Jews and be given guard duty. Does being on guard duty absolve you?
Perhaps most significantly, soldiering tells you that if you don’t do the job, someone else will have extra work. The army runs on the principle of all for one, one for all. Your “weakness” means that others have harder jobs and more work. No one wants to put their fellows in such a position. The institutional pressure not to shirk your duty and obey orders must have been enormous.
Browning wants us to face the truth that most of us would obey the order. Most of us would shoot Jews, and most of us would find the means to rationalize it. Testimonies given years later reveal that nearly all of them found a way to make peace with this atrocity in different ways, such as:
War is terrible and cannot be redeemed. Besides the enemy bombs our own women and children.
Surely this is an isolated, one-time action. It is horrible that we have this assignment. But given the horrible nature of this job, these Jews must therefore be particularly dangerous. Best to just “rip off the band-aid.”
Some stood in line and fired, but deliberately missed. Perhaps they trusted that their fellow soldiers would not deliberately miss, and this will preserve them from the horror in some way. Indeed, mop-up crews with sub-machine guns came through to finish the job. So . . . some tried to technically not kill anyone.
One soldier even went so far as to say that (paraphrasing), “I paired up with someone who had no problem shooting the women, and then I would shoot the children. I could not shoot mothers, but I figured, once their mother was dead, I could shoot the children as an act of mercy to them. Their lives without their parents would be misery. I could free them from suffering.”
Those that did not join in bore the stigma of cowards and shirkers. Those that attempted to obey, but found that “their nerves” could not handle it, were viewed as those who “tried their best.” Even Himmler himself said in 1943, that while firm obedience stood as the pinnacle of virtue, exceptions came to those whose “nerves are shot, to one who is finished, who has become weak. Then one can say: Good, go take your pension.” Even a small amount participation guaranteed your personal safety, no doubt a strong impetus to at least do something in a token way.
After Jozefow many men got violently ill and many showed acute emotional distress. We might think that this rebellion of the body as a witness to moral truth would turn the tide and what happened would never happen again. In fact, many men who openly wept and got terribly ill after the Josefow massacre later became hardened and even enthusiastic killers of more Jews. Initially, the body rebelled against the mind, but eventually, with enough practice, the two worked in tandem. Eventually, the SS could trust the battalion to commit larger and larger massacres:
The Numbers of Those Murdered by Battalion 101 in
1942: 7-8,000 (minimum)
1943: 30,000 (minimum)
In between their assignments to mass-murder, Battalion 101 received orders to clear the forests of Jews who had fled Nazi roundups. These “Jew-hunts” (as they were known) could also be rationalized:
The main enemy of fascism is communism. Many Jews are communists (so went the party line), thus, they are a threat.
Some of these Jews who fled now have arms. They will likely engage in guerrilla operations against our forces. Thus, they are not civilians but enemy soldiers, enemies too cowardly to come out and fight. They deserve their fate.
Perhaps because one might possibly find even the thinnest “legitimate” military motive for such action explains why the battalion never had a shortage of volunteers for these missions. It far more resembled “real soldiering” and may have helped them justify their actions in military terms. Such missions made them soldiers in their minds, not murderers.
Ordinary Men demonstrates that one need not be an SS ideologue to commit such atrocities. The commitment to your immediate circle of fellow men, your desire to “do something” for the war, your general patriotism, and perhaps even a lingering sense of guilt that in serving in the reserve police battalions made one a whole lot safer than a front-line solider–thus you might seek to make up for it with brutal deeds– all combine to wreak moral havoc on your soul. Within a year normal middle-age men without overt Nazi sympathies, without being educated in Nazi ideology in their formative years, without defined anti-semitic beliefs, became butchers on an unreal scale.*
We can understand this if we remember the intersection with the man asking for money.
I think the main reason why we fail at the intersection is the competition between our two commitments, one to our fellow drivers, the other to the needy man. Throw in the side-car of our selfishness and desire to get home and not be inconvenienced, etc., and game/set/match for our values. The only way to really navigate this successfully is to park the car and approach him on foot. In one sense this is harder, because it costs us more in time. But in many ways this is the easier path, for now we need not worry about the drivers behind us at all. We have removed ourselves from obligations to them and can act much more freely.
Of course the men in Battalion 101 faced a drastically more difficult situation. You cannot escape blame by opting out of shooting and taking guard duty instead. Reasonably, you would not (and perhaps even should not?) turn your gun against your comrades and go out in a hail of bullets. The only thing you can do is remove your uniform, perhaps facing court martial and even death. Perhaps you could do this if you were a bachelor, but if you have a wife and kids . . . ? What happens to them? Can you sacrifice them in addition to yourself? How many of us would shoot? How many of us would take guard duty?
In the epilogue, Browning quotes from Primo Levi’s book, The Drowned and the Saved, and it seems a fitting way to close. In his book Levi argues passionately that,
It is naive, absurd, and historically false to believe that an infernal system such as National Socialism sanctifies its victims; on the contrary, it degrades them, it makes them resemble itself.
Such was the fate of Reserve Police Battalion 101.
*Browning also traces the evolution of their anti-semitism. In time many came to hold the same kinds of beliefs about the Jews as Hitler and Himmler. They didn’t start that way, but their actions formed their beliefs.
I have republished this because of the partial similarities in theme with Hillaire Belloc’s Waterloo, reviewed here.
And now, the original review. . .
This is a great work, probably a labor of love to write and certainly at times to read. It bogs down in parts, at times too technical and obscure. But if you let it wash over you and absorb the full effects, one sees the book’s great value. It’s theme of how war pressures a society, and how victory can be turned into a defeat of sorts, is entirely relevant for us today.
First, the weaknesses:
Toynbee’s subject fits an epic scope, but the book becomes very technical at times. He loads the writing with untranslated Latin phrases. I realize he may have had the specialist in mind with because he does not do this in his other writings. But it’s still aggravating and pointless.
The book is too long. I admire his desire to touch on everything related to the subject (such as animal husbandry habits), I often lost focus and momentum reading it.
But don’t let this stop you. Look at me for example. I skipped big chunks of it and here I am, confidently reviewing it!
Toynbee believed that studying the classical world had importance not so much because of its influence on western civilization, however true that may be, but because we have with the Hellenic world a complete story fairly well documented. Given the uniformity of human nature, their story can be instructive for all us.
His argument runs like this:
1. One key to understanding the Hellenic world is the city-state model. Time and again, this model proved its superiority over other political organizations in the Mediterranean and beyond. The Greeks beat Persia for example. Organized along these lines, the Romans were poised to better their less well organized neighbors.
2. Conflict is part of life, and Rome eventually and continually got into conflicts with provinces around them. Their inward structure and at least moderately progressive alliance structure gave them a final advantage in these various conflicts.
Toynbee does not exalt Rome as the paragons of ancient virtue. But neither does he dismiss the good parts of what made them great. It’s ok to discover good things about western civilization!
Their victories solved some problems but created others. By the mid 4th century B.C. Rome’s expansion had done two things
It brought them up to the Mediterranean which likely would have inevitably involved them in conflict with Mediterranean naval powers. Should this conflict come the impact on Rome would be far reaching, win or lose. But this particular law of unintended consequence is faced by every civilization.
More importantly, Rome’s territorial expansion put great stress on the concept of the city-state. City-state’s work well when their is enough familiarity with one another to share rights, privileges, and responsibilities equally. When done, the resulting social cohesion can be personally fulfilling and politically dynamic.
Now such cohesion would be impossible. They were too big. Rome had a choice to make. They could either a) Transition into a more bureaucratic state with more central authority, b) Expand the base of their rights and go to a broad-based representative democracy, or c) Forget social cohesion and extend the power of their ruling class to these other areas as well.
Given their aversion to monarchy, ‘a’ was not likely, but ‘b’ was possible. Alas, they chose ‘c.’
Toynbee elsewhere makes the somewhat dubious assertion that the Hellenic world (which included Rome in his view) began to collapse in 431 BC with the Peloponnesian War. As it applies to Greece, it works, but not Rome. His argument here though, that Rome began to lose itself somewhere around 350 BC makes more sense. This is when Rome makes the transition from some kind of admirable democracy to a less admirable oligarchy.
3. It is the nature of oligarchies (like most regimes) to maintain control. Rome was still progressive in some ways, but in moral/political matters going half-way is worse than nothing. For example, most would rather not be invited to a party at all, instead of being invited and then told, “You can’t eat that. These rooms are off limits, etc.” They could be benevolent at times, but insisted on control. This dynamic often led to a unity of prominent families over and against the masses. They condescended to give allies some rights, but never equality. This made them vulnerable. Pride often does.
4. This was the climate that Hannibal hoped to exploit when he invaded. The traditional narrative is that Rome, pressed to the brink by a military genius, rallied itself and gained the victory. They add lots of territory in Africa and Spain. It’s a triumph for western civilization. Rome’s victory over Hannibal saved them from coming under the thumb of an an elitist merchant class oligarchy that would never have let them exercise their political wings. That was the best case scenario, with the worst case being utter destruction. Hurray — western civilization is saved!
Not so fast, says Toynbee. He dedicates the vast majority of vol. 2 to showing the unintended negative ripple effects of Rome’s victory. Some of them were inevitable, but most Rome had a direct or indirect hand in. They could have avoided their fate.
Rome had treated allies generally well before the 2nd Punic War, and often imposed extra burdens on themselves, sparing allied troops certain duties. After the war (during which some key allied states left for Hannibal) this was no longer the case. Rome now often gave the extra/harder duties to their allies. This is just part of the psychological scars the war left on Rome.
Much of the SE Italian population and land had been devastated by the war. Many peasants fled to the cities, which caused a manpower shortage in terms of raising troops from the provincial areas. But Rome, being less trusting, would not let their allies short them in any way on troop requirements any longer. But the extra burden came at a time when they were much less able to meet it.
New territory had to be manned, but this meant that troops would be away from farms for long extended periods, making their farms unprofitable. The people who get stationed in Spain can’t come back to vote. If they can’t vote they have no power. Legions in Spain would end up serving for 5-10 years at a time. Out of sight out of mind — until you can’t possibly ignore it any longer. They do not return as happy campers.
In general, the war destroyed the average independent peasant farmer. Wealthy oligarchs could easily buy up lots of cheap property and turn them into plantation farms. But who could work these farms? A free peasantry might get called off to war. Slaves made more sense, and of course, were readily available from the conquests. Thus, slavery expands in Rome during and after the 2nd Punic War, which would rot away the core of Rome’s traditional republican values.
As the army grew more disconnected from the social and political life of Rome, their habits became more self-serving. Hence, their abuse and looting of the provinces, of seeking conflict for the sake of loot, and of their increased loyalty to the commander instead of Rome itself.
Religion changed in Rome as they became exposed to the more emotive Mediterranean faiths. Traditional Roman religion could not provide for the new needs of the people to deal with the trauma of the war. Of course for the most part, the ruling oligarchy responded as they usually did, with force to suppress. But as you might imagine, this did not work very well.
The Romans lost perspective in many foreign crisis. ‘Hannibal’ was everywhere, and so what should have been perceived as a minor threat became a major one, which led to the more frequent drafting of larger armies. This put even more stress on an already stressed peasantry.
The main theme of the post-war years is the oligarchy attempting to maintain their hold on power, but shooting themselves in the foot with most every attempt. For example,
Vast new flocks and herds required shepherds to watch them. Shepherds need to be armed against theft and animal predators. But shepherds were often also slaves. So. . . we see a sharp increase in slave rebellions against the oligarchy. The Romans armed their potential destroyers.
The oligarchy maintained their power through accumulation of land, which led to wealth. Their wealth, along with Rome’s Mediterranean expansion, allowed them to acquire more exotic goods from all over. But this created a new class of wealthy merchants who inevitably challenged the oligarchy for control, and the resulting political tension spilled over into violence.
In the end Rome’s response to their victory led to the destruction of the oligarchy, first in their alienation of the peasantry, then in their fratricidal civil wars, and finally, in their death at the hands of the Principate with Augustus.
What lessons can be learned?
Rome made many mistakes, but many of these were not unusual mistakes. When people win the lottery they take the money and don’t consider the consequences. Most civilizations would take the territory gained in war in the same way.
The fact that Rome ‘lashed out’ and became more controlling and paranoid is also not unusual given the horrific shock and destruction Hannibal inflicted. In their minds it must have been ‘prudence.’ ‘Fool me once,’ and all that.
But Rome was not doomed to follow this path. Though Toynbee does not mention this specifically, I believe that his thesis fits with his overall belief that civilization routinely destroy themselves through acts of pride, fear, and envy. Only sacrificial love can allow a civilization to maintain itself long-term. This is not mere sentimentality. In fact, he takes 800 pages with gobs of footnotes from obscure German historians who wrote books with very long titles to prove his point. If we cast our bread upon the waters, we’ll get it back eventually.
For us today, in light of 9/11, the lessons are similar.
We cannot compare the shock of 9/11 to what Rome endured in the 2nd Punic War. The two events are not even close in magnitude, so the fact that our reaction has not been as extreme as Rome’s is nothing to write home about. We should be thankful.
However, in some areas, such as the extension of our military, the possible ‘tightening’ of our society, the easy way which our civilization can give way to fear, should be a warning to us. Through acts we could and perhaps could not help, we find ourselves stretched economically and more divided culturally than before. We would be silly to suppose that are automatically immune from Rome’s fate.
To close the review (too long!) in the true style of Toynbee’s book (also too long!), I need to include a large appendix. So, below is ‘Exhibit A’ for the change of Rome’s character: the expansion of slavery beginning with the first Punic War (264 B.C.) and ending with the destruction of Carthage in 146 B.C.
Expansion of Roman Slavery During Punic Wars (not a complete list): 264-146 B.C.
262 B.C. 25,000 Agrigentines sold into slavery
258 B.C. Myttisstraton massacred by Romans, survivors sold into slavery
258 B.C. Camarinans population into slavery
254 B.C. 13,000 Panormitans, into slavery
241 B.C. 10,000 Carthaginian POW’s into slavery
230 B.C. Romans buy large batch of slaves from Boii
214 B.C. 25,000 killed or enslaved by Fabius Maximus
210 B.C. 2,000 artisans from New Carthage enslaved
210 B.C. Akragas population into slavery by Valerius, leaders executed
210 B.C. Anticyrans sold into slavery, though they had previously made a good faith pledge with Rome
209 B.C. African POW’s in Hasdrubal’s camp enslaved by Scipio
207 B.C. Dymaeans enslaved by Galba
204 B.C. 8,000 African civilians sold into slavery
202 B.C. Wholesale African populations enslaved by Scipio
189 B.C. Samean population enslaved by Fulvius
177 B.C. 5700 from Istrian towns enslaved
177 B.C. 80,000 killed or captured by Sempronius Graachus
171 B.C. Haliatus population massacred, 2500 survivors enslaved
171 B.C. Anti-Roman party at Thisbe enslaved with families
167 B.C. 150,000 from 70 Molossian towns enslaved by direct Senatorial order
155 B.C. Delminium population enslaved by Scipio Nascia
146 B.C. Remaining women-children survivors from the seige of Carthage (perhaps 50,000?) enslaved.
146 B.C. Captured Corinthians massacred, women and children enslaved, liberated Greek slaves re-enslaved by Romans
In the letters of the Roman magistrate Pliny to the emperor Trajan, Pliny asks him about the official policy towards Christians. Christians have been brought before him, and he has condemned them to execution, but such matters are not trivial, and he wanted to make sure he followed the letter and spirit of the law.
Trajan wrote back and declared that, yes, if Christians appear before him, who will not recant, then such people should be executed. Trajan agreed with Pliny that Christians generally had nothing else against them other than that they professed the Christian faith, so, no need to seek them out. But Pliny should continue to follow the law. Christians continued to face death for being Christians.
But Trajan never addressed Pliny’s second question, which was (in sum), “Why, if Christians are generally good citizens who do not disturb the peace, do we need to punish them in the first place?” Many rank Trajan as one of Rome’s best emperors, but Rome loved practicality and viewed the Greeks as sissified for all of their reflective philosophizing. My guess–Trajan probably regarded the question with slight derision and, being a nice guy, politely ignored it. The law is law, end of story.
Steven D. Smith begins his insightful work Pagans and Christians in the City: Culture Wars from the Tiber to the Potomac with this historical nugget, for he wants to attempt to answer Pliny’s unanswered question of “why?” Christian luminaries such as Tertullian, Athenagoras, and St. Augustine all pointed out the utter folly and injustice of Rome’s actions. In persecuting Christians, they argued, Rome removed its best citizens. Without discounting the truth of Rome’s cruelty, Smith considers if the Romans may actually been right in their instinct (without articulating it coherently) that Christianity truly posed a threat to their way of life. Gibbon, Pelikan, and many others point out that the Church did triumph over Rome, and that the Church, while able to reside peacefully within Rome, truly meant to end Rome’s way of life.
Recently we have witnessed a variety of almost entirely symbolic prosecutions and attacks of bakers, florists, and pizza joints who do not join in with the prevailing sexual orthodoxy. In a series of articles, Libertarian UVA Law professor Douglas Laycock bemoans the attitudes of those on the left. Plenty of options exist for gay couples for all marriage-related services. Why ferret out those who do nothing to stop you but simply disagree with your choices? Such people do nothing to impinge the freedom of homosexuals. In the same vein, why do conservatives attempt to stop people from engaging in sexual practices they object to, but have no impact on the lives of those who object? Both sides strive for the same symbolic but essentially “meaningless” victory, and it ruins our political discourse.
Laycock sounds quite reasonable, but Smith points out that these “victories” for which different sides strive have a great deal of symbolic value attached to them. Though symbols may not fit into a strictly rational worldview, Smith concludes that, “we live by symbols” and can derive meaning only from symbols.* Furthermore, religious belief always demands communal expression, and symbols shape and embody that expression. From this point, Smith’s book explores what the modern culture wars are all about through the lens of Christianity’s first conflict with imperial Rome.
Many today will likely admire the Romans for their tolerance, and wonder why Christians could not accommodate themselves to Rome. Rome, after all, found a way to accommodate a great many different religions into their empire. But no society can tolerate everything. And we, too, have “zero-tolerance” policies for what we truly deem important, such as drugs or sexual harassment, and so on. If we take the example of offering incense to the emperor, which many Christians refused to do, the conversation might look like this:
Roman: You Christians are impossible. We let you hold your bizarre religious gatherings–albeit outside the city–but we let you hold them. We let you believe whatever you want to believe. We give you the benefits of the greatest empire the world has ever known, and you enjoy those benefits. We do so much for you, and we ask but very little, that you acknowledge the blessings of the authority under which you live. If you live among us we must know that you will follow our laws, and this is how you pledge yourself to that. You are disobedient. You are uncharitable–you take from us and give nothing back. And so . . . we cannot trust you, and how could we do so, after giving so much and receiving back so little?
Christian: We should be grateful for all that Rome does for us, and indeed, we pray for those in authority during every liturgy. In our sojourn here on Earth we can partake of much the world has to offer, and justice demands that we give honor where it is rightly due. But your policy asks us to accommodate our monotheism to your polytheism. You suppose that sacrifices to the emperor are a small accommodation, but you ask us to abandon monotheism and accept polytheism. You ask us to change our religious beliefs, which is surely the most significant accommodation you could possibly ask.
Striking parallels exist between imperial Rome and our own day, and the conflicts engendered between Christians and pagans. One such area involved creation and the natural world. For the Romans, the gods infused the world around them with their presence, and every city had its sacred sites. Christians rejected this direct immanence by emphasizing the transcendent nature of God that had little to no overlap with pagan belief.
But the complexity of Christianity greatly mitigated these differences regarding creation. While God is transcendent, He is also imminent. Many scriptural passages talk of creation praising God, and God calls humanity to steward creation. Christians too had/have their sacred sites involving saints, relics, pilgrimages, and the like. So too today, while many viewed as “anti-science” come from certain segments of the evangelical community, Christians and “pagans” find much common ground with moderate environmentalists, though will eventually part ways over certain particulars.
A much more significant divide came with sexuality, where the Roman approach to sexual ethics looks strikingly modern (what follows applied almost entirely to men in the ancient world, not women):
Sexual behavior was entirely natural, and few restrictions should be placed upon it.
Sex was “healthy,” and self-denial in regard to sex was considered mildly dangerous and “anti-human.”
Sex brings us closer to the divine, for all the stories of the gods (goddesses, not as much) have them cavorting with various women.
Use of the male sexual organ had a halo of sacredness surrounding it, but how one used it had very few restrictions. One could “sleep with” slaves, prostitutes, or even other men or boys, provided that one was never the “female” in such a relationship.
I am not the person and this is not the format to give a full treatment of the traditional Christian view of sexuality. But in brief:
The Fathers of the church quickly realized the Scriptural hints about the sacred nature of sexual behavior, and its connections to our life in God. But . . . sex serves at most as a pointer to a more fuller, transcendent reality that will be present only when the Kingdom of God is fully present. It is not an end in itself.
Many Christians believed in the sanctity of sexuality in some way, but the sanctity of sex is the reason for the various restrictions Christians placed on sexual behavior. To protect its meaning and purpose, sex needs strong fences, such as limiting it within marriage between a man and woman
Living fully as human beings meant taming and restricting our “appetites,” for the ability to do separates us from the beasts. So, while the Romans thought that the more or less indiscriminate indulgence in sex made us more human, Christians believed it made us sub-human–just as over indulgence in eating would do the same, i.e., a dogs will eat anything put before them, as much as they are given.
How deep these differences really go, Smith asserts, comes down not to logic and private self-interest, but the more nebulous (but simultaneously more real) world of symbol. Symbols cannot be fully explained, but have to be experienced–one knows it when we live it. I lament the effect the culture wars have had on eroding our social fabric and institutions. But though Smith never quite explicitly states it (that I found), he strongly hints that such wars will inevitably be fought. For our culture to have cohesion it must have meaning, and this meaning can only come from a common communal understanding. Symbols work only in this way.
Clearly, for us today as the Romans then, sexual behavior occupies a crucial space within our culture. We may not believe sex to have the sacredness that it did for the Romans, at least in an overtly conscious sense. We likely relate sex in America to our deep beliefs about personal expression and the self. What unifies modern and ancients on both sides, Smith suggests, is the divide between the transcendent and the imminent.
For example, Smith states, no one really questions the motto, “In God we Trust” on our money, but “one nation, under God,” in the Pledge of Allegiance has received significant constitutional scrutiny. Smith finds the difference in the word “under,” which assumes a transcendent deity in ways that “In God we Trust” does not (this “God” need not be above us but exclusively “among us” for us to define and control).
If Smith is right about this in particular, so much the better, for it gives us clarity in a confusing debate. But his other assertion holds more weight. Our disagreements about sex** may very well be an unconscious proxy for our ideas about meaning and community. Perhaps Smith doesn’t excuse the culture wars, but suggests they will continue. It also suggests that our diseased political culture has not caused this divide. Rather, we might flip our normal way of discussing the culture wars on its head. Perhaps our divergent ideas about sexuality (dating back at least to Roe v. Wade and the Sexual Revolution) have fractured our idea of meaning and community, and this fracture manifests itself in various ways.^
Our founders put priority on minimizing centralized power. They knew that humans can get contentious, but sought to make lemonade out of lemons. Our propensity to conflict would create different interest groups, but in the end they would all cancel each other out, preserving liberty. Thus, the Constitution was not meant to create a tight-knit political community, but essentially sought to prevent its formation.Obviously, this experiment has worked on a number of levels. But now that most churches and other community defining organizations have declined in numbers and importance, we have lost our ability to determine meaning in any kind of public sphere. Tocqueville warned us that this might happen if our more private and local communal connections eroded. And so, here we are, seeking meaning from the only viable institutions most of us have any familiarity with–the federal government. This may be what distinguishes our current cultural problems from those we previously experienced, and why we invest so much emotional and moral weight into our politics.^^
Following Smith’s largely unspoken line of thought brings us to a sober realization. Are all our silly fights really about something important? If we can focus on the real issue at hand, perhaps we could make progress in solving them.
*This comment may seem confusing or silly if you think of symbols as images only. If we take the older meaning of symbol and apply the term to ways of understanding beyond the literal and physical, it makes more sense. Parents of teens will surely have encountered this before. Your child asks for “reasons” and “explanations” for your various edicts, but you can’t always provide to the degree they wish. No amount of explanation suffices, for you want them how to live “into” a world, one that can’t be entirely shown them from the outside.
**This includes abortion as well. Some hard cases exist on the fringe of the issue, but at its root is the issue of human autonomy and sexual freedom. I believe it likely that most of the debate about “when life begins” for the pro-choice side is a smokescreen for the right to create a “safe space” for us to adopt a more pagan attitude towards sexual behavior.
^The rapid changes in accepted sexual morality recently may be extra evidence for Smith’s claim. He points out that Seinfeld may have been a turning point. Most every character led sexual lives that would not have fit into any previous sitcom. But to balance this, the show did not promote the main characters as morally serious in any way. From there, we had Friends, and then The Office which were still comedies but the moral seriousness of the characters increased as their sexual ethics remained much the same as in Seinfeld.
^^Perhaps the one place where people can find some semblance of community and belonging is college campuses, and perhaps this is why many students and professors have sought to make their campus into a kind of temple and dramatically infuse it with doctrinaire ideologies, sacred spaces, and taboo speech. Like Ross Douthat, I deplore a great deal about the campus protests, but I understand the impulse. While I admire efforts from a quite ideologically diverse group of people like Joe Rogan, Dave Rubin, Camille Paglia, and Candace Owens to further free-speech and open debate, we need to realize that such things in themselves will not save us.
I have written at times about my dislike for the “great man” theory of historical interpretation (here extensively). My objections to this theory, in brief, are that
The writer invariably sees events only through one lens, which limits their vision
The writer’s hero worship distorts their vision
I could not resist the Kindle deal of Theodore Dodge’s Hannibal: A History of the Art of War Among the Carthaginians and Romans Down to the Battle of Pydna, 168 B.C., with a Detailed Account of the Second Punic War. I suspected from some reviews that Dodge would fall prey to the aforementioned hero-worship, the besetting sin of many a 19th century historian. I happily discovered that while I took issue with some of Dodge’s emphasis and conclusions, he writes an informative and engaging account of the Punic War era. His is a much better book than Druesel’s Bismarck biography linked above, for example. Likely Dodge was simply a more sane and intellectually honest person than Druesel. Or it may be that Dodge’s more practical American sensibility and his own experience in our Civil War gave him better perspective. Whatever the reason, his book pleasantly surprised me. He delves into some hero worship, but keeps it to acceptable levels.
Dodge first argues briefly that Hannibal, with some help from Alexander the Great, invented the art of military strategy. This at first struck me as “hero worship” but upon reflection I mostly agree with him. For the ancients, battle was battle in the way for us that a handshake is a handshake. We don’t think of strategizing a handshake. Handshakes represent our pledge, ourselves. To strategize a handshake seems impersonal, disconnecting us from ourselves and putting up a false pretense.
For the ancients, in battle you lined up in a field and fought. Battle tested not the intellect but the will, the discipline, and the courage of the armies. To have it become something more than that struck many as absurd, or perhaps cheating. Certainly some Romans viewed Hannibal this way. Some of our generals in Vietnam felt similarly. I recall one of them saying, “To *&^% with them! They wouldn’t come out and fight!” So the attitude may have a universality beyond the ancient world.
Hannibal often fought with deception, move, and counter-move. At times he sacrificed a small portion of his men in hopes that Rome would bite on a bait-and-switch. He always seemed to have several tools in his bag to try and get what he wanted. I wondered with a colleague of mine how this came to be. What context helped create Hannibal? Major shifts like this do not happen in a vacuum.
Carthage had a great naval tradition, but little overt military tradition to speak of. A society centered around merchants, they contracted out nearly the entirety of their infantry. An army with dozens of different traditions is an army with no traditions. Dodge does a solid job of explaining the jigsaw puzzle that was the Carthaginian army, which would need a charismatic and forceful leader to hold together, let alone use effectively. Hannibal deserves much of the credit he receives.
Hannibal also spent the majority of his life away from Carthage in Spain with the army, including his formative years. Thus, Hannibal had little connection to Carthaginian civilization (something that would hurt him later in his war with Rome). He roamed as a “free agent” in many respects, and could be dedicated to victory while others dedicated themselves to honor or tradition.
Many of Hannibal’s admirers rightly point out that unlike Alexander, Caesar, or Napoleon Hannibal faced rather than actually had the best army in the known world. True, Rome’s infantry distinguished itself for an almost 200 year unbroken string of victories by the time Hannibal invaded. But for someone like Hannibal Rome offered unique opportunities. Unlike Carthage, their army was embedded directly within their civilization of farmers. And, like farmers, Rome’s army stuck to routine. They could be counted on to charge at any red flag in any environment, and a patient commander with excellent command over his men might find a way to exploit this. Certainly Hannibal did, with Cannae as the exemplar par excellence of his theatrical genius.
In the end, however, Dodge reverts to the hero-worship mentality. The “objective” view (ok — my view) of Hannibal makes him a bit too clever by half. The 2nd Punic War ostensibly began as a dispute over territory in Spain. Had Hannibal stayed in Spain and waited for Rome to come to him, he would have been well supplied and could pick his spots more or less at will. One can easily foresee a significant victory for Carthage in that scenario. But Hannibal chose to play for much bigger and riskier stakes by invading Italy itself. Any full treatment of the 2nd Punic War then, must be largely a biography of Hannibal. Understanding what made him tick would make a great template for a great writer, but Dodge is not it. Granted, Dodge never claimed to write a Hannibal biography, but I don’t see how one can ignore this side of Hannibal in writing about the war. For example, in faithful hero-worship fashion, Dodge brushes off the many cruel acts of Hannibal and never uses them to try and gain insight into the man. When Hannibal makes two prisoners fight each other to the death for their freedom merely as an object lesson for his men, all Dodge can say is, “This had a remarkable effect on his army.”
Essentially, Hannibal’s strategy boiled down to:
Crossing the Alps to invade Italy — this would surprise Rome and put him in a position to quickly ally himself with the Gauls in the north of Italy, long time enemies of Rome, then
March south and hope to gather more allies as he went — to do this he would need a few big battles to impress/scare the locals
Eventually he would have enough troops to march on Rome itself
I think Hannibal a great military commander, but we have to remember that he lost. It’s easy to love Lee, but Grant beat him. Napoleon is more interesting than Wellington, but Wellington had the last laugh. So if we avoid getting carried away with the brilliant nature of some of Hannibal’s victories, we may wonder how great a grand strategist Hannibal really was. His plan had significant flaws.
Many point out that Hannibal got very little support from Carthage itself, and then argue that had he had this support, he would have been victorious. Dodge writes,
That Hannibal eventually failed was not from lack of intelligent policy, but because he had no aid from home. . .
The opposition of Hanno [a Carthaginian politician] wrecked all of Hannibal’s wonderful work.
and later again,
When we look at the [internal condition of Carthaginian politics], it ceases to be a matter of curiosity why so little was done to aid Hannibal.
It is a mark of faith in the “great men” school of thought that nothing can ever be really the fault of the great man.
True, Hannibal received little support from Carthage, but Hannibal should have been quite familiar with the topsy-turvy nature of his home civilization’s politics. Besides, in crossing the Alps Hannibal adopted a strategy that would isolate him from any kind of supply line. Finally, and most tellingly for me, even Dodge admits that Carthaginian armies had a tradition of operating independently and self-sufficiently apart from Carthage’s government. All this Hannibal should have taken into account, and it was a serious mistake for him not to connect his strategy to his political situation. Again, even Dodge himself writes about the Carthaginian government,
. . . it was natural that [the Carthaginian government] should prefer to hold Spain to winning in Italy. They believed they could do the first, they doubted the other.
So Hannibal adopted a strategy (rather than hold Spain, go for the jugular in Italy) that he either knew or should have known went in direct opposition to Carthage’s political leadership. Carthage refused to take extra risks for a general that had defied them, and this should not surprise us, nor should it have surprised Hannibal. It seems to have surprised Dodge.
For Hannibal’s strategy to work, he would need to pry allies away from Rome. But in cutting his army off from a supply line, he forced them to rely on foraging the countryside, alienating the very people he tried to win over. Oil and water just don’t mix.
Besides this, I think Hannibal also showed a basic ignorance of Rome’s alliance system. Rome wasn’t perfect. No one is. But in general Rome offered a good deal to those they conquered and incorporated into their Republic. They required taxes and military service, and little else. How could Hannibal top this? What better offer could he make? He could, of course, exempt them from military service, but then their “help” would not be much help at all.
I think Hannibal failed to understand the political system his enemy really operated, and by my tally that means he failed to understand politics at all. A general who operated on Hannibal’s scale needed to, and this failure cost him everything. Dodge writes,
Like Napoleon, Hannibal saw that a peace, to be a peace, must be conquered at the doors of the enemy’s capital. This was his policy. It was the proper one; but it failed because he could not control the resources of Carthage.
That Dodge writes this without attaching any blame to Hannibal speaks volumes. Why should we praise a man who undertook a strategy that required he control Carthage’s resources when Hannibal lacked the power to control them? And why be so sure that Napoleon was correct when he too lost, and lost badly?
Those in the romantic “Great Men” school ultimately have to explain why their heroes lost (losers are always more romantic than winners). For R.E. Lee, it was his generals. “If only Jackson had lived, or Ewell had taken the hill, or if Stuart were there, etc. (Lee of course only blamed himself). Napoleon, serving as his own “Great Men” autobiographer, and perhaps the founder of the “Great Men” school, blamed fate. For him, I think, to blame others would have meant admitting that others had real power, which perhaps he hesitated to do. Alas, Dodge (though thankfully not Hannibal) takes refuge behind Fate as well, writing,
Hannibal . . . was hoping against hope; he recognized that the stars in their courses were fighting against him.
[Alexander the Great] was a prime favorite of Fortune. She smiled on Hannibal until after Cannae. Thereafter no man ever faced luck so contrary.
Fate is a refuge for those who refuse to face the message Reality wishes to convey.
In the end, the traditional story of the 2nd Punic War as a war of personal revenge of Hannibal on Rome may make the most sense. The strategy employed, the blitzkrieg nature of his execution, and his “anger” flaming out after Cannae may speak to the truth of this version.
So, I disagree with Dodge, but I enjoyed his book, and others will too. At least he had an opinion to go with his fine writing and interesting way of presenting Rome and Hannibal’s epic confrontation. Though Rome had the last laugh, Hannibal remains a fascinating figure.
Though see here for the possibility that Hannibal had the last, last laugh after all.