In ancient Greece, beards marked the transition from youth to adulthood and reflected a man’s place within civic and moral life. A beard could signal maturity, restraint, or intellect, while its absence might suggest vanity or submission. From early warriors to later philosophers, the meaning of the beard evolved, yet it consistently revealed how the Greeks linked the body with virtue and identity.

From Youth to Manhood in Classical Greece

In classical Greece, the first signs of facial hair meant more than a change in appearance. When a young man began to grow a beard, it signalled that he had reached the age to serve in the army and participate in the public life of the polis as a citizen. According to ancient sources, a beard was regarded as a badge of virility and full adulthood. In a culture that valued moderation and self-control, being able to outwardly show maturity on one’s face mattered.

Across Greece, the passage into adulthood was tied to systems of mentorship where older men guided younger companions through physical and intellectual training. In Sparta and Crete, these relationships formed part of a military upbringing, with experienced warriors demonstrating the strength and fortitude that young men were expected to live by. The presence or absence of a beard helped define these roles. It made clear who instructed and who learned, who embodied responsibility and who was still being shaped.

In Athens, this bond assumed an even more pronounced social dimension. The paiderastic relationship between an older bearded man (erastes) and a beardless youth (eromenos) combined education and friendship, and often included an erotic element. The beard was integral to this structure, marking the elder as the active partner and guide, the one already formed by experience and discipline. In the Symposium, Plato reimagined this relationship as a path toward virtue, with the elder exercising self-restraint and the younger inspired toward wisdom and beauty.

The contrast between the bearded and the beardless was therefore not superficial. It encoded a set of expectations about desire, authority, and moral development. Crucially, it marked the shift from the receptive role of the beloved to the active responsibilities of adulthood.

The Shaving Revolution

Although beards were customary for all adult men during the classical period, this convention began to change in the 4th century BC following Alexander the Great’s preference for a clean-shaven face. His choice had symbolic significance. It aligned him with ideals of divine beauty and set his image apart from earlier Greek rulers. Plutarch later claimed that Alexander also ordered his soldiers to shave before battle, allegedly fearing that enemies might seize them by the beard, though evidence for such “hair-pulling” tactics is scarce. Whatever the true motive, the cultural effect was unmistakable. From Alexander onward, the smooth face gained prominence, giving visual form to emerging ideas of power and imperial ambition.

In the generations that followed, shaving spread rapidly among elites, propelled by Alexander the Great’s immense fame. For the first time, facial hair expressed choice and identity rather than custom. To shave showed a desire to follow the new, cosmopolitan aesthetic. To keep a beard was to stand apart. This shift set the stage for a different kind of statement, one associated not with citizens or soldiers, but with philosophers.

The Philosopher’s Beard

In the Hellenistic period, the beard became a visible marker of philosophical life. As shaving spread across the Mediterranean, philosophers of the Cynic and Stoic schools began to treat the beard as an act of resistance. By keeping theirs, they distinguished themselves from a world increasingly preoccupied with polish and presentation.

The Cynic Diogenes of Sinope, who rejected wealth and convention, regarded his beard as a token of self-sufficiency and independence. It symbolized his refusal to submit to the artificial demands of society. The Stoics gave this image a moral dimension. Epictetus described the beard as a sign of constancy and reason, warning that to shave it was to betray one’s philosophical identity. Even within philosophy, different styles of beard carried meaning. Sculptural portraits make these distinctions visible, showing how Epicureans favoured a neatly trimmed, classicising beard, while Cynics and many Stoics were depicted with fuller, rougher, and less controlled beards that expressed austerity and distance from social refinement.

By the Roman era, the association between philosophy and beards had become so synonymous that it was regularly parodied. The satirist Lucian mocked those who wore their beards as mere costumes. He’s recorded as having joked: “If you think to grow a beard is to acquire wisdom, a goat with a true beard is at once a complete Plato.”

Legacy and Meaning

The symbolism of the beard did not vanish with antiquity. Early Christian ascetics revived the philosopher’s beard as a sign of humility and spiritual focus, and later monastic traditions preserved it as an emblem of piety. Even today, echoes of ancient codes persist: the beard still carries connotations of masculinity, intellect, or authenticity, depending on context.

In ancient Greece, growing or shaving a beard was never merely a cosmetic decision. It reflected how one understood the self in relation to nature and society. From the beardless youth to the aging sage, the face charted a moral journey, one that made the beard, in all its changing meanings, a small but enduring expression of what it meant to live in the ancient world.

Having all but conquered the Achaemenid Empire, Alexander the Great marched into Central Asia to exert his control over the region. While nominally part of the Achaemenid Empire in the past, many of the people living in this area had enjoyed a great degree of independence. Suddenly caught between a revolt of the Sogdians and an invasion by the nomadic Scythian or Saka tribesmen, Alexander had to react decisively. The resulting Battle of the Jaxartes River (329 BCE) was perhaps Alexander’s most spectacular victory. Follow the events of the encounter with an in-depth “blow-by-blow” account.

The Final Frontier

By 329 BCE, Alexander the Great had reached the furthest frontiers of the Achaemenid Empire. Both Darius III and the usurper Bessus, also known as Artaxerxes V, were dead, leaving no one to challenge Alexander for the Achaemenid throne.

The campaign had taken Alexander deep into Central Asia, where the mighty Jaxartes River, now known as the Syr Darya River, formed the far border of the Achaemenid kingdom. Beyond the river stretched the seemingly endless Eurasian steppe. Seeing little else of value in this direction, Alexander decided that the river would form the border of his new empire, at least for now.

To watch over the frontier of his new empire, Alexander set about constructing a new city he would call Alexandria Eschate, or “Alexander the Furthest.” This city was to be an important military base, as it also controlled key routes across the steppe, including the Fergana Valley and the route to China.

However, unbeknownst to Alexander, there was a delicate balance in the region of Sogdiana between sedentary and nomadic populations; the groups managed to coexist. Beyond the Jaxartes, the nomadic Scythians and Saka tribesmen were less appreciative of urban life and likely felt threatened by the new city. To make matters worse, ambassadors dispatched by these tribes appear to have been murdered by the local Sogdians.

The Sogdian Revolt

Soon after the construction of Alexandria Eschate began, word arrived that the native Sogdians had revolted. While they had been part of the Achaemenid Empire for centuries, it had had little impact on their way of life. The construction of the new city threatened to change that.

Alexander moved quickly to crush the revolt, and heavy fighting broke out in the vicinity of Alexandria Eschate. Reportedly, Alexander was even wounded in the throat. However, word soon arrived that the rebellion had spread to the south. The Sogdian army, under the command of Spitamenes (c.370-329/28 BCE), was even besieging the important city of Maracanda.

Spitamenes was an interesting figure. He had been tied to the Achaemenid usurper Bessus, but later turned him over to Alexander. He was not a well-known general, as this was his first recorded military action. Some have argued that his rebellion’s primary motivation was religious. The founder of Zoroastrianism, Zarathustra, was also called Spitama, from which Spitamenes derives. This suggests that Spitamenes may have had some religious authority.

It has been suggested that Alexander’s troops may have confiscated cattle or attempted to end religious rites that involved exposing dead dogs to vultures. This would have been seen as a major affront to the Zoroastrian population. Regardless of the cause, the revolt was serious enough that Alexander had to act.

Scythians and Saka

Before Alexander could march south, he received word that a large army was approaching from the steppe. These were the Saka, a nomadic Scythian tribe of Indo-Iranians whose name roughly translates to “bow.” This Saka army was not a single entity but rather a loose confederation of many tribes. They had marched south to take advantage of the Sogdian revolt led by Spitamenes. Many lived along the border and probably crossed it regularly; some tribes likely even made their home in Sogdiana.

Their motivation for marching is unclear. They may have been allies of the Sogdians or felt threatened by the new city of Alexandria Eschate. Alternatively, they may simply have sought to take advantage of the unrest to loot and pillage.

The Saka army appears to have consisted almost exclusively of cavalry, as was common for most nomadic steppe armies during this period. The key to their success was their horse archers, whose speed, mobility, and firepower gave them a decisive edge on the battlefield. However, they lacked the ability to regularly besiege and capture fortified positions.

Usually, their strategy was to lure their opponents out onto open ground where they could be destroyed. To this end, they occupied the northern bank of the Jaxartes, daring Alexander to attack. Any attackers would have to cross the river in boats, which would allow the Saka to defeat them piecemeal. At the same time, Alexander could not leave them, since if they were allowed to cross the river, it would be difficult to catch them.

Artillery and Archers

The Jaxartes River is wider than a bowshot, so the Macedonians were able to board their boats without interference from the Saka, who assumed they could launch their arrows mid-journey and pick off the survivors as they disembarked. Alexander planned accordingly.

First, he had his men board their ships at the same time so that the entire army could cross the river together and not be isolated. Then he brought up his siege artillery, relatively new technology at the time. During the reign of Alexander’s father, Philip of Macedon, torsion-powered bolts and stone throwers were developed. Both Philip and Alexander used these weapons to great effect.

Alexander’s siege weapons had a far greater range than the Saca bows. He planned to attack the waiting Saca archers first.

Alexander Crosses the Jaxartes

The Macedonian artillery barrage caught the Saka by surprise. Many casualties were inflicted, and one of the Saka leaders was killed. Realizing that they could not stand before the Macedonian artillery, the Saka retreated from the riverbank. This allowed Alexander’s troops to cross and disembark unmolested.

The first Macedonian troops ashore were archers and skirmishers, who established a protective screen in front of the landing site. At this point, the Saka could and probably should have withdrawn into the steppe. Had they done so, Alexander would not have been able to follow. Alexander appears to have been aware of this and acted to prevent the Saka from slipping away.

To keep the Saka from withdrawing, Alexander sent forward a force of cavalrymen. This small force was intended to lure the Saka in and provoke them into an attack. Once the Saka attacked, the rest of the Macedonian army would come to their rescue. The Macedonian cavalrymen were essentially to be sacrificed as bait for the Saka.

While many commanders would likely have recognized this sort of trap, the Saka were not accustomed to fighting in this manner. The Saka fought as warriors, and if a commander intentionally sacrificed his troops, their surviving relatives would likely have initiated a blood feud. For the Macedonians, the situation was different. They were professional soldiers who were willing to undertake the risk on behalf of the army.

Surrounding the Scythians

When the Macedonian cavalry advanced, the Saka met them. The nimbler Saka horse archers quickly surrounded the Macedonians and began to pepper them with arrows. However, once the Saka engaged the Macedonian cavalry, their position on the battlefield was fixed. This allowed Alexander to rapidly advance with the rest of his army on a broad front with a relatively shallow line. The Macedonian archers and skirmishers closed with the Saka. Now it was the Saka who were caught, essentially sandwiched between the Macedonian cavalry and light infantry.

Caught between the Macedonian cavalry and light infantry, the Saka horsemen rode towards the flanks to escape. However, they did not count on the high level of coordination between the various units of Alexander’s army. At this point, the rest of the Macedonian infantry showed up.

The Macedonian infantry marched to the wings of light infantry and effectively blocked the Saka’s escape route. The Saka warriors, who just a few moments ago had been bent on the destruction of the Macedonian cavalry, now found themselves surrounded. For the Saka, this sudden realization must have been a psychological hammer blow, crushing their morale.

Greater Than Cyrus

The rapid encirclement of the Saka horse archers quickly brought the battle to a close. An estimated 1,200 were killed, including their commander, who appears to have been named Satraces. Around 150 surrendered and were taken prisoner, and the Macedonians also captured 1,800 horses.

The rest of the Saka who had not attacked the Macedonian cavalry fled. Apparently, they did not attempt to rescue their comrades, though this may have been due to how quickly the situation developed. The Saka were also very individualistic, so there may not have been much bond among the different groups that made up the army. Alexander ordered a pursuit, but it did not last long. He was still suffering from his throat wound and developed dysentery from the bad local water.

As far as the Greeks were aware at this time, no one had ever so completely defeated a nomadic Scythian army before. Alexander’s father had won a victory over the Scythian King Ateas in 340 BCE, but it was hard fought and under very different circumstances. Many Scythians had also easily and successfully escaped after the battle.

The “Great” Achaemenid rulers Cyrus and Darius had also fought the Scythians on the steppe as Alexander had. However, in both cases, they were defeated, and Cyrus was killed. Alexander’s victory was therefore a great boost to both his reputation and the morale of the Macedonian army.

Aftermath

Alexander’s goal was never to conquer the Saka. Their nomadic lifestyle of the great Eurasian steppe would have made such an undertaking extremely difficult. The real goal was to address the threat they posed.

As long as the Saka were amassed on the frontier, Alexander could not deal with the Sogdian revolt to the south. To this end, Alexander adopted a policy of reconciliation with the Saka. All of those taken prisoner were released and sent back to their homes, likely with gifts. This show of strength and then mercy appears to have had the desired effect. The Saka never again threatened the Macedonian Empire’s frontier while Alexander the Great was alive.

From a tactical perspective, the battle of Jaxartes was the most spectacular of all of Alexander’s victories. The coordination between the Macedonian fleet, artillery, light infantry, cavalry, and the heavy infantry was brilliant. Few other armies or generals would have been able to face the Saka as effectively as Alexander’s Macedonians had.

While the battle of the Jaxartes rarely gets the attention that it deserves, it was just as important a victory as the Battle of the Granicus, Issus, Gaugamela, and Hydaspes. While these other battles were clearly on a much larger scale, none of them was as spectacular as the Battle of the Jaxartes.

The Cyclops, a giant and terrible one-eyed creature, appears in many Greek myths, from making Poseidon’s trident to eating Odysseus’s men in Homer’s Odyssey. But where did the ancient Greeks get this idea of a giant, one-eyed creature? What inspired their myths? Recently, scholars have suggested that fossil remains of extinct animals could have inspired the myths about Cyclopes when they were discovered by the Greeks. How well-founded is this idea, and what similarities exist between animal fossils and the Greek Cyclops?

The Cyclops in Greek Myths and Stories

The Cyclops is one of the most intriguing figures in Greek mythology. Its name literally means “round eye.” But a Cyclops is not a single being; there are many of them across the Greek world, each differing in occupation and cultural characteristics.

The earliest written mention of the Cyclopes comes from Hesiod’s Theogony (8th–7th century BC), where they appear not as monsters, but as primordial craftsmen. He names three brothers, Brontes, Steropes, and Arges, whose very names evoke thunder, lightning, and brightness. According to Hesiod, the Cyclopes are the ones who forge Zeus’s thunderbolt.

A dramatically different version appears in Homer’s Odyssey (c. 700 BC). Here, the Cyclopes are giant, lawless shepherds who live in isolation on a fertile island. The most famous among them is Polyphemus, who trapped Odysseus and his men in his cave and devoured some of them raw. Unlike Hesiod’s Cyclopes, Homer’s Cyclops is not a creator but a destroyer. His tale belongs to a much older Indo-European folktale motif of “the one-eyed giant.”

By the classical and Hellenistic periods, a third version of the Cyclopes has appeared in mythology. In this tradition, they become legendary master builders. Ancient Greeks, confronted with massive prehistoric stone structures, especially the walls of Mycenae and Tiryns, believed that such enormous stones could only have been lifted by giants.

All these versions of the Cyclopes include the details that they were enormous and had a single eye.

Fossils the Greeks Could Have Found in the Mediterranean

The ancient Greeks lived in a region rich with prehistoric fossil remains, especially on the Mediterranean islands. The most significant among these were the extinct Pleistocene dwarf elephants found on Crete, Cyprus, Sicily, Malta, and Tilos. These animals lived during the Pleistocene and disappeared long before Greek civilization emerged, but their bones were preserved in caves and along remote coastlines. Their skulls often washed out of caves or eroded from limestone cliffs, the kinds of places where ancient travelers, shepherds, or sailors could easily encounter them.

The ancient Greeks had no concept of prehistoric time as we understand it today, and they were unfamiliar with the scientific nature of the fossils they discovered. In addition to dwarf elephants, the Greeks also came across the fossils of larger animals such as mammoths and mastodons, although these certainly did not match the image of a Cyclops. Fossil beds on the Greek mainland, such as those in Thessaly and the Peloponnese, also preserved the remains of giant deer, prehistoric horses, rhinoceroses, and cave bears.

Why Elephant Skulls Look Like One-Eyed Monsters

Elephant skulls, especially those of the dwarf species that lived on Mediterranean islands, have a distinctive anatomy that resembles one-eyed monsters. The most visually striking feature of an elephant skull is the large central opening in the middle of the forehead. To a modern biologist, this cavity is immediately recognizable as the attachment point for the elephant’s trunk, known as the nasal cavity. But without some knowledge of anatomy, this is impossible to know, especially if you have never seen an elephant in your life. It is important to emphasize that the dwarf elephants from this region went extinct around 1,000 years before the formation of classical Greek culture. No species of Mediterranean dwarf elephant survived long enough for the ancient Greeks to encounter them alive.

The eye sockets of the elephant are much smaller and positioned on the sides of the skull, often partially obscured or eroded in fossil specimens. As a result, the dominant central opening becomes the most noticeable feature. In dwarf elephants, this effect is even more pronounced. Their skulls are proportionally large compared to their bodies, thick-boned, and often well-preserved in caves or coastal sediments. Over time, erosion smooths the central cavity, making it appear even larger and deeper.

Did Fossils Really Inspire the Cyclops?

Is the resemblance between elephant fossils and the Cyclops merely a product of imagination, just like the Cyclops themselves, or is this theory grounded in scientific discourse?

The first person to propose this idea was Othenio Abel, an Austrian paleontologist and evolutionary biologist. He introduced it in the early 20th century in his publication “Die Vorweltlichen Tierreste im Mythus und Kult der Griechen” (1914). Around 60 years later, Dorothy Vitaliano, a geologist and science historian, developed the concept of geomythology, which examines how natural features and paleontological remains shape myths. In her work “Legends of the Earth” (1973), she also touched on the Cyclops and the possibility of linking this myth to ancient animal fossils.

The most vocal defender of this theory is Adrienne Mayor, an American historian of science at Princeton University. Mayor argues that ancient Greeks frequently encountered fossils, mammoths, mastodons, giant deer, and especially dwarf elephants, and interpreted them as evidence of giants, heroes, and monsters. She provides detailed documentation of fossil sites near ancient settlements and sanctuaries.

This is not a new approach. If we go further back, to ancient Greece and Rome, we see that Herodotus, Pausanias, Strabo, and Pliny the Elder all describe enormous bones being discovered, displayed in temples, and identified as those of heroes or giants.

“Here are also kept bones, too big for those of a hu­man be­ing, about which the story ran that they were those of one of the gi­ants mus­tered by Ho­pladamus to fight for Rhea, as my story will re­late here­after.” (Pausanias, Description of Greece 8.32.5)

Do Fossil Sites Align With Cyclops Legends?

One of the strongest pieces of evidence that the myths of the Cyclops are rooted in fossils is the geographic overlap between the two. The places in the ancient world where stories of Cyclopes were most vividly told often coincide with regions rich in prehistoric elephant fossils. This overlap should not be ignored when examining this topic. The best example is Sicily, where the highest number of Palaeoloxodon falconeri fossils have been found, the very island where later Greek tradition placed the home of Polyphemus and the race of Cyclopes. When Greek colonists arrived in Sicily during the 8th century BC, they would have encountered these ancient skulls already eroding out of cliffs or exposed in limestone caverns.

Similarly, Crete, Cyprus, Malta, and Tilos are also locations where many of these elephant fossils have been found. Although Cyclopes are not necessarily mentioned on these islands, sailors and travelers moved freely across the Mediterranean. Fossils discovered on one island could easily circulate as stories elsewhere. It is also interesting that the fewest Cyclops stories come from mainland Greece, where the smallest number of dwarf elephant fossils has been found.

Skepticism and Counterarguments to the Fossil Theory

The theory that fossils inspired the stories of Cyclopes has no consensus among historians because, in essence, it is impossible to know for certain. While the idea that fossil elephant skulls helped shape the Cyclops myth is widely considered plausible and even compelling, not all scholars agree that fossils played a decisive role.

One of the major criticisms comes from classicists who argue that Cyclopes existed in Greek oral traditions before the Greeks settled in Sicily and came into contact with dwarf elephant fossils. The “one-eyed giant” motif appears across Indo-European folklore, extending far beyond the Mediterranean.

Another criticism is that ancient texts never directly connect Cyclopes with fossils, even though Greek authors did notice and comment on oversized bones. If they truly believed these were the remains of Cyclopes, someone might have mentioned it. It is also not correct to say that the ancient Greeks never encountered elephants of other species. Through warfare and trade, albeit on a limited scale, they did. Therefore, there were Greeks who knew elephant anatomy and who could have understood what the fossils represented.

Thus, the theory that fossil remains inspired the ancient Greek stories of the Cyclops is a widely accepted theory, not a proven fact. It remains a compelling intersection of mythology, paleontology, and human imagination.

After his victory at Gaugamela in 331 BC, Alexander the Great was the master of the Persian Empire. His enemy, Darius II, had fled to the eastern satrapies (provinces) in an ultimately futile attempt to continue the war. This left Alexander in control of the Persian and Median imperial heartland. The four imperial capitals: Susa, Ecbatana, Babylon, and Persepolis would fall into his hands. The following year, Persepolis was set aflame. Classical and modern historians have questioned why this happened and whether this represented a deliberate strategy or a drunken mistake.

The War Before Persepolis

Alexander of Macedon succeeded his father, Phillip, in 336 BC, at the age of just 20. He acted swiftly, first to consolidate his rule within Macedon itself and then to reassert control over the Greek cities. Phillip had established the League of Corinth, a federation that included the majority of the cities in Greece. Alexander reestablished Macedonian hegemony over the league through a combination of diplomacy, warfare, and intimidation. This included destroying the city of Thebes, an important power in 5th and 4th-century Greek politics and a former ally of the Persian Empire. By 334 BC, Alexander was ready to fulfill another ambition of his own and his father’s, to invade the Persian Empire itself.

Alexander’s army, made up of Greek and Macedonian soldiers, won major victories at Granicus (334 BC) and Issus (333 BC). Both battles were in Asia Minor, opening up the western satrapies and Egypt to occupation. In speeches, inscriptions, and other documents, Alexander proclaimed that he was fighting for the “freedom of the Greeks.” The concepts, common in the politics of the Greek cities, of “eleutheria” (freedom) and “autonomia” (self-governance) resonated with Alexander’s Greek subordinates. In practice, the freedom of the Greeks meant two things. Firstly, the liberation and independence of the Greek cities within the Persian Empire. Secondly, revenge for the Persian invasions of Greece. In particular, the burning of Athens and the destruction of the temples of the Acropolis in 480 BC were grievances that Alexander used to justify his campaign and maintain Greek loyalty.

In 331 BC, Alexander won the third and largest of his battles against the Persian Empire at Gaugamela. Darius II was defeated, and historians largely consider the Achaemenid Dynasty to have fallen from this date. The major cities of the Persian Empire were secured, including Persepolis in 330 BC. Shortly thereafter, the city (or at least its wooden sections) was burned to the ground.

Persepolis, the “city of the Persians,” was one of four capitals of the Persian Empire. It was the newest of these cities, having been founded by Darius I in 518 BC. It included great palace complexes and religious centers, representing Persian cultural and political strength. It is notable that Persepolis was the only one of these great cities to be destroyed.

The Ancient Sources: A Party That Got Out of Hand?

Our surviving sources for the life of Alexander the Great come from centuries after his death. They are at least partially based on contemporary materials that do not survive. However, they still write from a distance of both time and perspective. Diodorus Siculus, a Greek Historian writing in the 1st century BC in Sicily, covered Alexander as part of his “Library of History.” This account seems to be based on Cleitarchus, a contemporary historical source. It represents the so-called “vulgate” tradition, a more critical take on many of Alexander’s actions. Plutarch, a biographer living in the Roman Empire in the 1st century AD, records the same version of events as Diodorus.

In this version of events, the city is burned as part of a drunken party gone wrong. Thaïs, an Athenian courtesan accompanying Ptolemy (one of Alexander’s bodyguards and commanders), is portrayed as the instigator. Plutarch tells us that “she said that it would be an even greater pleasure to go for fun to set fire to the house of Xerxes, who had burned Athens. She wanted to light the fire herself with Alexander watching, so that it would be said that the women following Alexander’s army had given a greater punishment to the Persians on behalf of Greece than all the famous commanders on sea and land” (Plutarch, Life of Alexander, 38).

In this account, the burning is spontaneous, immature, and the product of too much wine and dubious influences. Alexander himself is portrayed as drunk and easily led into the action, rather than as the main instigator of the policy. The decision was made because of alcohol and the wild agreement of the soldiers who were present. Alexander is also quickly regretful of the action and has the fire put out. For Plutarch, this repentance is a valuable moral lesson learned by his subject.

A Deliberate Strategy?

Our other perspective comes from Arrian, a Greek historian writing in the 2nd century AD. He also served as a Roman legate and military commander. His account is even further removed from events but seems to have been based on the accounts of Ptolemy and Aristobulus, both of whom were on the campaign with Alexander. In this account, there is no mention of alcohol, courtesans, or any regret about the decision.

In Arrian’s version of events, “Alexander claimed that he wanted to take vengeance on the Persians for what they did during the invasion of Greece when they razed Athens to the ground and burnt down the temples and for all the other problems they had caused the Greeks” (Arrian, Anabasis of Alexander, 3.18). In this account, Alexander ignores advice from Parmenio (one of his generals) and makes an intentional decision to burn the city. The reason given was clearly stated to be the completion of the vengeance against the Persian Empire that Alexander had been promising since coming to power. This is an argument that Arrian seems to regard as both valid and self-evident.

Who Should We Believe?

Beyond the time gap, we can raise reasonable questions about both of these traditions. Diodorus and Plutarch are moralists, concerned as much with the lessons that their histories can teach as with their literal accuracy. Plutarch in particular sought to educate his audience with his Parallel Lives of Greek and Roman figures. Both Alexander and his Roman pairing, Julius Caesar, are portrayed as great conquerors, fighting their own worst instincts.

When we consider reliability, Arrian’s account has its own concerns. He is open about his admiration for Alexander, and he can be uncritical of his actions. He claims that Ptolemy’s account should always be believed, as it would be unacceptable for a king to lie, which seems inordinately credulous. Ptolemy’s own later legitimacy as ruler of Egypt depended on Alexander’s legacy, and his account seems to have reflected that. This perspective was then repeated by Arrian.

Why Did Alexander Burn the City?

As is often the case with Alexander’s life, modern readers can fit this event into the version of Alexander that they want to see. Those convinced of his strategic genius can see in this a harsh but effective political decision. Those convinced of his brutality see random violence and destruction. Those convinced that he represents falling greatness, brought low by ego, indulgence, and power similarly find an interpretation of these events that fits the story. Meanwhile, those who like their history salacious and full of scandal may focus on the role of Thaïs. All of these are to some extent plausible.

The Freedom of the Greeks and Revenge

Despite this range of interpretations, there are common points that we can take from this event. Both traditions mention the idea of revenge for the Greek cities and Athens in particular. In Plutarch’s and Diodorus’ accounts, this is an idea raised by an Athenian woman once everyone had overindulged. In Arrian’s, it was part of an intentional plan. However, this motivation was mentioned in both versions. As discussed above, the idea of revenge was not new in 330 BC, but had always formed part of the justification for the invasion. This action was also a way in which Alexander could maintain the loyalty of the Greeks in his army and those still at home.

According to this interpretation, the burning of Persepolis can be seen as the end of a process of pursuing revenge and Greek freedom, not a one-off event. It can also be seen to fit with one of the main themes and purposes of the campaign.

Mindful Destruction

The burning of Persepolis can also be seen as being outside of the character of the campaign as a whole.

Thebes had been largely razed in 335 BC, before the invasion of the Persian Empire. This seems to have been motivated by Thebes’s attempts to assert its independence from the League of Corinth. The action was a calculated attempt to destroy a rebellious state and intimidate the rest of the Greek cities to get them into line. Thebes’s collaboration with the Persians during the invasion of 480 BC was also cited as a justification for the destruction. Once in the Persian Empire, most cities in Asia Minor and the Levant were treated leniently, with many proclaiming Alexander as a liberator. Egypt similarly fell without any significant sacking of cities.

There were exceptions. The population of Tyre on the Levantine coast was largely enslaved, and 2,000 men were crucified after a seven-month siege in 332 BC, for example. However, these repressions were intentional and targeted, not wild and random. It is reasonable to argue that Persepolis fits this pattern. It was a relatively unusual but not unique case where greater brutality was used against a specific defeated enemy city. This was always done for clearly defined political purposes.

Diodorus and Plutarch also mention that the treasure of Persepolis had already been removed before the city was burned. This may suggest that the destruction was planned, or at least anticipated. At the very least, the harsh treatment of Persepolis does not seem to have been as spontaneous as the story of Thaïs and the party suggests. Instead, it was seen as a target that could be treated harshly and the spoils of victory taken.

Alexander mostly treated Darius’s family and the Persian elites well. There were no widespread persecutions. Alexander even adopted forms of Persian dress and customs, much to the chagrin of many of his Greek and Macedonian followers. That makes Persepolis seem more of an outlier. That may be evidence that this was a mistake, as Plutarch suggests. However, it may also show that this was a significant and symbolic action. The destruction of palaces and temples was to balance the temples of the Acropolis. Persepolis, as a royal and ritual center, would fit this purpose better than the other capitals and cities of the empire, which were mostly left intact.

The other three royal capitals, Ecbatana, Susa, and Babylon, remained thriving cities. The destruction was limited to a city directly related to the royal family.

What About Thaïs and the Party?

The story of Thaïs, the Athenian courtesan, and the drunken party seems too historically interesting to simply discard. Thankfully, there is no reason to do so. It seems unlikely that this story has been invented entirely. Diodorus and Plutarch are likely relaying information from firsthand accounts. Drunkenness was a widely attested feature of Macedonian court life under both Alexander and Phillip. We also have other accounts of Alexander making decisions that were influenced by the consumption of alcohol. In addition, Thaïs seems too specifically drawn in our sources to be pure invention.

However, there is a distinction between drunken celebrations around the burning of the city and the idea that the destruction only happened because of drunken celebrations. The second claim is a harder one to sustain, given the political and strategic goals that the burning of the city achieved and the broader pattern it fits within.

An Ending and a Beginning

Beyond the dramatic nature of the burning of Persepolis, the event marked the hinge point in Alexander’s campaign. By avenging the razing of the Acropolis and the attacks on Greece, Alexander had fulfilled his promises to the League of Corinth. Many of his Greek followers would return home. We can argue that the Hellenic portion of Alexander’s war was over. Following this final act of symbolic vengeance, Persians could become subjects and allies, rather than hated enemies.

Alexander’s own ambitions were not complete. With his obligations met and promises kept, he could turn his eyes to new goals. Plans for further campaigns in the east could be developed. Ideas of a blended Macedonian and Persian elite and a new royal political culture could be considered. In this respect, Persepolis represented the last of Alexander’s old business as a Macedonian king and Greek leader. He could now become the Lord of Asia.

For much of antiquity, Persia stood at the crossroads of civilizations. A cultural melting pot, many of its traditions differed greatly from anything found elsewhere in the world. One of the most striking differences was how the Persians treated their dead. Instead of burying bodies beneath the earth, they placed them as close to the sky as possible. These structures, known as Towers of Silence, functioned not as tombs but as platforms where nature itself carried out the final rites. To other civilizations, this practice seemed unsettling, but within Zoroastrian belief, it was deeply grounded and profoundly spiritual. Understanding these towers helps us better understand the Persian view of life and death, of nature, the body, and the soul.

Persia Before and After Zoroaster

Before the establishment of the Persian Empire, the region was inhabited by various Indo-Iranian tribes whose spiritual life was based on polytheistic rituals, nature deities, and practices shared with their Vedic cousins in ancient India. Early Persians had a diverse pantheon, including gods of the sky, water, wind, and fire. Each deity was honored through distinct symbolic rituals. But within this early belief system, death was regarded with deep suspicion. Corpses were believed to attract malevolent forces, and there was no unified doctrine dictating how the dead should be treated.

Dramatic changes came in the first millennium BC with the emergence of Zoroastrianism and its founder, Zarathustra, also known as Zoroaster. He declared that the world was a battlefield between Asha, the cosmic principle of truth and order, and Druj, the force of chaos and impurity. He called upon his followers to support Asha and the supreme deity, Ahura Mazda. By the time the Achaemenid Empire rose under Cyrus the Great in the 6th century BC, Zoroastrianism had become deeply intertwined with Persian identity.

Why the Dead Could Not Touch Earth

With the emergence of Zoroastrianism came a new way of treating the dead. In Zoroastrianism, ritual purity was one of the most important concepts, and one of the greatest sources of impurity was corpses. Followers of the faith believed that at the moment of death, the demon Nasu entered the body, turning it spiritually unclean and making it a carrier of Druj. This was not merely a symbolic fear but a literal one. They believed that impurity could easily spread through contact with a corpse.

Because of this belief in the unclean nature of the dead, bodies could not be buried in the earth. The Earth was considered one of the most important elements of the world. It gave life and provided everything necessary for living. If corpses were buried, the earth itself would become polluted.

But burial was not the only forbidden practice. Cremation was also prohibited. Fire, too, was regarded as one of the world’s most sacred elements, and burning a corpse would expose it to impurity. For this reason, new methods of handling the dead had to be developed, and priests established strict protocols outlining how corpses were to be treated.

“Let no man alone by himself carry a corpse. If a man alone by himself carries a corpse, the Nasu rushes upon him, to defile him, from the nose of the dead, from the eye, from the tongue, from the jaws, from the sexual organs, from the hinder parts. This Druj Nasu falls upon him, [stains him] even to the end of the nails, and he is unclean, thenceforth, forever and ever.” (Vendidad 3.14)

The Birth of the Dakhma

The birth of the Dakhma, or Tower of Silence, was not something that happened overnight; it was the result of centuries of tradition and carefully maintained protocols for handling the dead. This is why the earliest Zoroastrian texts contain no direct reference to any specific architectural structure used for funerary purposes. Instead, they present strict and explicit rules: corpses must not touch earth, fire, or water; impurity must be contained; and the body must be exposed to sunlight and scavenging birds so that nature can purify it.

“So much I can say for certain from my own knowledge about them: but what follows is reported about their dead as a secret mystery and not with clearness, namely that the body of a Persian man is not buried until it has been torn by a bird or a dog.” (Herodotus, Histories 1.140)

Initially, people laid the dead on hilltops or in distant open fields far from settlements to prevent the spread of impurity. But even this was not an ideal solution. Animals often scattered bodies or body parts, which sometimes found their way back to inhabited areas. Further, as time passed, it became increasingly difficult to find enough remote, unused land for depositing the dead.

These problems eventually led to the creation of the Dakhma. Sometime during the late Achaemenid or early Parthian period, between the 5th and 2nd centuries BC, communities began constructing circular stone enclosures elevated above the landscape. At first, these structures were simple, even primitive, but over time they grew increasingly sophisticated. Walls were strengthened, platforms were leveled, and drainage channels were added so that rainwater could not carry impurities into the environment.

Inside a Tower of Silence

By the Sasanian period, the standard form of these funerary structures had become well established. The circular shape of the towers was not accidental but symbolic, representing cosmic order and the eternal nature of Asha. At the same time, it was practical, allowing for an even distribution of sunlight and wind. The walls were high, sometimes several meters tall, and served to isolate the ritual space and prevent animals from dragging remains away. There were often three rings inside the tower: the outer ring for adult men, the middle ring for adult women, and the inner ring for children. Bodies were laid out on slightly inclined stone slabs so that fluids from decomposition could drain away easily.

Naturally, not everyone was allowed to enter the tower. Only trained specialists could do so. Families of the deceased could accompany the procession only up to the gate of the tower’s enclosure, as entering the Dakhma itself was considered spiritually dangerous for anyone not ritually prepared. At the center of the tower was a deep, cylindrical pit known as the bhandar or ossuary. When scavenging birds stripped all the flesh from the bodies, usually within a few hours, the attendants, known as nasu-salars, would gather the bones and place them into the pit. Below the pit, engineers often constructed filtration systems made of charcoal, sand, and stone layers. These elements purified any remaining matter before it reached the earth.

In the Towers of Silence, every natural element had a clear and essential role. The sun purified the body and symbolized the illuminating power of Asha. The wind carried away impurities and accelerated drying, while the scavenging birds rapidly removed flesh from the bones, and with it the ritual impurity.

Were All Persians Laid to Rest in the Towers of Silence?

Although the Towers of Silence were an important part of Zoroastrianism, the reality is more nuanced. Not all Persians were laid to rest in these structures, and not even all Zoroastrians used them. There were differences in customs based on region, social status, and the historical period.

First of all, not every inhabitant of Persia followed Zoroastrianism. The empire included many Babylonians, Jews, Greeks, Armenians, and various tribal peoples, so they can be ruled out immediately. In some remote regions, even after adopting Zoroastrianism, people did not accept all its customs at once and continued practicing older traditions.

The bodies of Achaemenid kings such as Darius and Xerxes were placed in monumental rock-cut tombs at Naqsh-e Rostam and Persepolis, not exposed in a Dakhma. Yet these tombs were elevated above the ground, ensuring that their remains did not pollute the Earth, thus respecting the basic principles of Zoroastrian funerary law. Ordinary practice was also set aside in other specific cases. For example, infants who died before undergoing certain purification rituals were sometimes buried or placed in small, isolated structures. Nomadic communities, lacking the resources to build towers, often left bodies in elevated mountain areas instead.

Most Towers of Silence were constructed during the Sasanian period, when funerary practice became more uniform and followed stricter rules. But in such a vast empire, this method of dealing with the dead was not, and could not, be uniform.

The Decline of the Towers

The Towers of Silence, as a method of burial in this region, remained in use for a remarkably long time. Their use began to decline in the 7th century following the Islamic conquests. Although Muslim leaders allowed Zoroastrians to practice their religion, this method of disposing of the dead declined.

As Persian towns expanded during the medieval and early modern periods, authorities,  influenced by emerging ideas about sanitation and public health, argued that exposure posed biological risks. Travelers of the time who passed through Iran and India described these towers as barbaric and unhygienic.

The strongest blow to Zoroastrianism came with Reza Shah’s modernization reforms in the 1920s and 1930s. Zoroastrians who had not yet converted to Islam were forced to adopt alternative burial methods. Today, only around 80,000–120,000 Zoroastrians remain worldwide. The Towers of Silence are still used occasionally in India, though nowhere near as frequently as in earlier times.

Few spectacles in recorded history have grabbed people’s attention quite like the Roman gladiator games, a cultural force significant enough to leave its mark on Roman law, art, and politics. Yet for all the research done on what went down inside the arena, not nearly enough attention has been given to the system that produced its fighters. This was the calculated step-by-step process through which Rome selected the men destined to risk their lives on its arena floors.

What Was the Selection Process?

Gladiators were typically selected from pools of criminals, slaves, and prisoners of war. Many were chosen for this role as they never had the rights of a citizen and had no choice but to comply as recruits. The lanista (gladiator school owner) ran the ludus (gladiator school), and usually bought men in open slave markets. The buying and selling of gladiators happened all over the Roman Empire, and was kept under close watch by the government. Rome’s back-to-back battlefield wins kept gladiator inflows going as captured enemy soldiers were split up and some sent to fight in arenas. 

Many lanistae ran their gladiator crews with an iron fist, and held the legal power of life and death over every single person under their roof. Socially, they were the lowest of the low, thrown in the same bracket as pimps and actors. 

How Volunteers Became Gladiators

While most early fighters were enslaved people and convicted criminals, grave inscriptions indicate that by the 1st century AD, the recruiting process had started to change, with scores of free men beginning to voluntarily sign contracts with gladiator schools hoping to win fame and cash.

These volunteers included men facing severe economic hardships and ex-soldiers. They signed themselves over to a lanista under the auctoramentum gladiatorium. A voluntary contract typically spanning three years. Before being accepted, a volunteer would need a magistrate’s permission, after which he would undergo a physical exam to determine if he could handle the brutal training and fighting. The exam also decided what kind of training he would receive, since schools taught very specific styles that suited the height, build, and speed of each student. Once assigned a class, like the retiarius which involved fighting using fishing tools like a weighted net, trident, and dagger, a fighter typically could not switch styles. 

How Gladiator Schools Were Run

The first gladiator schools, known as ludi, were established around the 2nd century BC. Upon arrival, gladiators were immediately assigned a specialized doctor, and placed under a lanista‘s watch. Fresh recruits entered as novicii and advanced to tirones gladiatores. When Augustus took power in 27 BC, the Roman government tightened its grip on public games, and growing numbers of gladiators were from then on trained in state-run schools. Experts estimate there were more than 100 gladiator schools across the Empire, with gladiators grouped into troupes called familia gladiatoria.

The Top Gladiator Schools

The Ludus Magnus was the top school in Rome. It was built by Emperor Domitian between 81 and 96 AD directly east of the Colosseum. Three other well-known schools ran alongside it – the Ludus Dacicus, the Ludus Gallicus, and the Ludus Matutinus. As a gladiator progressed, he climbed through training ranks called Palus, with Primus Palus being the highest, at which point he could teach and pass on his skills. Training was intense and open for the public to see. The Ludus Magnus, for example, seated around 3,000 spectators. Lanistae kept their men in good shape and well-fed, as they were to them serious financial investments.

Beyond fame and fortune, gladiators became part of a tight-knit group known for bravery and loyalty. While most had short lives, some won enough matches to earn freedom or a role as trainer, with the ultimate prize being the rudis, a wooden sword symbolizing hard-won freedom. 

How the Gladiator System Took Advantage of Human Suffering

What Rome had built was a system of carefully engineered human sourcing with one part slave market, one part military draft, one part voluntary contract. Recruitment into the ludus also worked through a coming-together of desperation and cold financial math.

This was by pulling together different kinds of outcasts into one unified machine of control. At a time when three out of every five people never even made it to their 20th birthday, the odds of a professional gladiator actually getting killed in any single fight, at least during the 1st century AD, were perhaps one in ten. Regardless of where they came from, gladiators gave the crowd a front-row seat at everything Rome valued such as mental and physical prowess, and bravery.

For centuries, the ancient Greeks turned to oracles with questions about everything from planting and family to politics and war. Their answers, believed to come directly from the gods, shaped many important events that changed the course of history. But the ancient Greeks also thought that some gods were deceitful or misleading. This raises an important question: if the gods themselves weren’t always truthful, could their oracles lie, or was any mistake simply a misunderstanding?

What Were Oracles in Ancient Greece?

In ancient Greece, an oracle was a sacred place where people went to get answers to important questions. Inscriptions reveal that they asked about everything from marriage, family, and work to health, war, and politics. Oracles usually had specially chosen priests or priestesses who were believed to communicate directly with the gods to provide an answer. The most famous was the Oracle of Delphi, where the priestess, known as the Pythia, delivered messages thought to come from Apollo.

To receive answers from an oracle, people had to follow a strict set of rituals. First, they had to purify themselves in sacred springs. They then brought offerings such as cakes, coins, or animals for sacrifice. At Delphi, the Pythia then entered a sacred chamber, sat on a tripod, and went into a trance-like state. She would murmur words, sometimes clearly and sometimes not, which were interpreted as an answer.

Across Greece, there were hundreds of oracles, both large and small. The most influential were known as the Panhellenic oracles, meaning they were respected by all Greek city-states.

Did the Greeks Believe the Gods Could Lie?

Although the ancient Greeks respected their gods, they believed the gods had human-like natures, driven by emotions, rivalries, and personal conflicts. Because of this, the gods could sometimes be dishonest or use tricks, something apparent in many Greek myths. Stories in Homer and Hesiod show that the Greeks fully accepted that the gods were capable of dishonesty when it suited them.

Zeus was especially known for his tricks. In Homer’s Iliad, for example, Zeus sends a deceiving dream to Agamemnon, convincing him that he will easily win the battle. Sometimes, Zeus also sends ambiguous signs, like thunderstorms or omens that could be interpreted in different ways. These were not necessarily outright lies, but they could easily mislead people. Hera used similar tactics to gain an advantage in her rivalry with Zeus.

Athena also deceived people by giving incomplete information. She also frequently disguised herself as a mortal to influence events, especially when she was on Odysseus’s side. Hermes is perhaps the best example of divine trickery. As soon as he was born, he stole Apollo’s cattle and then lied about it with a straight face. The Homeric Hymn to Hermes openly calls him crafty, cunning, and a teller of lies. Yet he was still beloved, and his tricks were seen as clever rather than malicious. Apollo, the god of truth, also appears in some myths giving vague or double-meaning messages.

If the Gods Could Lie, What Did That Mean for Their Oracles?

The idea that the gods could lie created an interesting tension within ancient Greek religion. If Zeus, Hera, Hermes, and sometimes even Apollo were known to deceive, why would anyone trust the oracles who claimed to speak with their voice? Yet this question troubles modern historians far more than it bothered the Greeks themselves.

The Greeks did not believe that the gods lied constantly, and especially not through their oracles. If the gods lied openly, they would lose the support of mortals, and their temples would eventually lose authority. Instead, the Greeks believed that the gods revealed only parts of the truth rather than the whole truth, hid their full intentions, or delivered messages in symbolic or ambiguous language. In this sense, a prophecy did not need to be fulfilled literally to be considered true; it was always part of a deeper divine plan.

Also, if a prophecy seemed to turn out wrong, people usually blamed human misunderstanding, not divine falsehood. Oracles often spoke in riddles, and it was the responsibility of the questioner to interpret the message correctly. When King Croesus asked the Oracle of Delphi whether he should attack Persia, the prophecy said that “a great empire will fall.” Croesus mistakenly assumed it would be the Persian Empire rather than his own.

People also believed that the gods had their own reasons for hiding the truth. Sometimes, revealing everything would interfere with fate or give mortals knowledge they were not meant to have. In this way, divine secrecy protected the cosmic order. A prophecy that was difficult to understand was not a trick, but a reminder of the vast gap between mortal and divine knowledge.

Did Anyone in Ancient Greece Doubt the Oracles?

Although most Greeks believed in the oracles, there were also skeptics, especially among poets, philosophers, historians, and other educated people. Some ordinary people were cautious as well, since consulting an oracle was expensive and the answers were difficult to interpret.

Thinkers like Xenophanes criticized the idea of gods who behaved like flawed humans and argued that divine messages could not be trusted if the gods themselves acted unfairly or deceitfully. By the Classical period, the Sophists, who questioned traditional beliefs, openly expressed doubts about the sincerity of oracles. They claimed that people believed whatever they wanted to believe, and that oracles succeeded because their vague answers could be interpreted in many different ways.

Socrates is an interesting case. He accepted the Delphic Oracle’s statement that he was the wisest man, but he interpreted it philosophically rather than literally. Socrates believed that true wisdom came from questioning everything, which indirectly suggested that even prophetic messages should be examined critically. The historian Thucydides recorded how rulers often used prophecies to justify their political plans, and he even raised the possibility that priests could be bribed, something not impossible in his view. By the Hellenistic and Roman periods, skepticism toward oracles became increasingly common. Philosophers like the Stoics and Epicureans debated whether the gods intervened in human life at all.

The Seven Sages of ancient Greece were a recognized collective of influential philosophers and lawmakers active in the Greek archaic period (7th to 6th centuries BCE). The number seven was sacred among the Greeks, representing completeness, which is also why there were seven wonders of the world. Plato, writing in the 4th century BCE, lists the seven sages in his Protagoras, though there was debate among authors about who should be included among the seven, with more than 23 included in the various surviving lists. The Seven Sages were revered for their practical wisdom, which has survived to this day in popular maxims such as “nothing in excess” and “know thyself”.

1. Thales of Miletus (c. 624 BCE-546 BCE)

According to Herodotus, Thales was the son of influential Phaeacian parents, Examyas and Cleobulina, who claimed descent from the mythical king Cadmus. However, most believed Thales was a native of Miletus, though Diogenes suggests that he became a citizen in his adulthood. Some sources say he married and had a son named Cubisthus, while others suggest he never married, claiming that it was “because I like children.”

Thales was considered the first wise man of the seven sages, receiving the title from the Archon of Athens, Damasias. While he was involved in politics, this stemmed mostly from his efforts to understand the natural world. Many say Thales never wrote anything down, while others argue that he wrote at least three now-lost works, titled Nautical Astronomy, On the Solstice, and Equinoxes. Eudemus claims that Thales was the first Greek to study astronomy and credited him with discovering Ursa Minor, the interval between the solstices, and with working out the ratio of the sun’s size to the lunar orbit. He may also have been the first to divide the seasons and the year into 365 days. Pamphile claims that Thales studied geometry in Egypt and discovered how to inscribe a right angle in a circle.

Thales was one of the first Greek thinkers to believe that the soul is immortal, and he even claimed that inanimate objects possessed a soul based on his experiments with magnets. He posited that water is the principle behind everything and that the world is littered with thousands of divinities, both big and small.

Thales proved to be a capable political advisor who helped Miletus avoid an alliance with the Lydian king, Croesus. A move that would later save the city-state when Cyrus the Great gained control of the kingdom. Thales also helped Croesus’s army cross the river Halys without a bridge by diverting the course of the river upstream.

Thales was the first of the men that the classical Greeks named among their Seven Sages. Timon celebrated Thales’s achievements in his Lampoons, “Thales of the seven wise men, wise at [starwatching]”.

2. Pittacus of Mitylene (c. 640–568 BCE)

The son of Hyrrhadius of Mytilene, Pittacus was an infamous statesman, lawmaker, and poet from the island of Lesbos. He worked with the Alcaeus brothers to overthrow Melanchrus, the tyrant of Lesbos.

Pittacus led the Mitylene army against the Athenians over Achilles’s Tomb, suggesting that he and the Athenian commander Phrynon fight in single combat to determine the victor. Phrynon was an Olympic wrestling champion and confidently accepted the challenge. However, Pittacus fought smart and hid a net behind his shield, which he used to ensnare and defeat Phrynon. As a result, Pittacus returned to Mitylene as a hero, and the citizens made him their leader.

Pittacus ruled the city for ten years before choosing to step down. During his tenure, Pittacus brought order and new laws to the city, such as doubling the penalty for any offense committed while intoxicated.

After stepping away from politics, the city of Mytilene awarded his service with a parcel of land outside the city. Pittacus decided to establish the land as a sanctuary, which was called the shrine of Pittacus. He is remembered for his humility and commitment to the laws he helped establish. When he was offered gifts from the Lydian king Croesus, he sent them back, writing that he already had double what he wanted. According to another story, after his son died in a freak barbershop accident, Pittacus freed his son’s killer, saying, “Forgiveness is better than remorse.”

Pittacus spent his later life writing. He composed over 600 lines of poetic verse and wrote a law book called On Laws. He was remembered as a hero who encouraged humility and peace in all endeavors. The people of Mitylene inscribe his monument with the following: “Shedding tears, this land that bore him, sacred Lesbos, Weeps aloud for Pittacus now passed away.”

3. Bias of Priene (c. 6th century BCE)

of Priene was a famous lawmaker, poet, and politician. According to Phanodicus, Bias paid the ransom for some captive girls from Messenian and then raised the girls as his daughters. Once they were adults, he gave them dowries and sent them back to their families in Messenia.

Bias also wrote a 2000-line poem called On Ionia. He was a gifted speaker and spent most of his time working as a lawyer in the assembly. Diogenes says he devoted these skills to speaking on behalf of the good. Although. according to legend, this is also how Bias died.

After speaking in defense of someone in court, the elderly Bias sat down and rested his head on his grandson’s shoulder. After the opposition had rested their case, the judges sided with Bias’s client. As the court adjourned, his grandson discovered that Bias had died resting on his lap.

Bias also proved himself a capable military and tactical advisor. When Alyattes lay siege to Priene, Bias had two mules fattened up with the little remaining food the city had and sent them out of the city gates. Alyattes fell for Bias’s gambit and believed that the fat mules implied that the city of Priene still had enough food to feed their livestock well. Alyattes sent an envoy to negotiate a truce, and Bias organized a large pile of sand to be covered with grain. When the envoy saw this, he reported back to Alyattes, who quickly made peace with Priene. Thanks to Bias’s clever thinking, a siege that would have starved and killed hundreds of people was avoided.

Bias of Priene endorsed the power of words over strength and force. He was a skeptic who coined the maxim “Most men are bad” and lived a peaceful life speaking on behalf of those who needed help. The citizens of Priene established a sanctuary for him called the Teutameon. The poet Hipponax only has praise for him, writing that “in Priene there was Bias son of Teutamos, who had more sense than the rest.”

4. Solon of Athens (c. 638-558 BCE)

Originally Solon of Salamis, Solon of Athens was arguably one of the most influential figures in the history of Athens. Solon was a historic poet, politician, and lawmaker who helped introduce a new law in Athens called the “great unburdening”, which forgave all citizens’ debts. Born and raised on the island of Salamis, Solon initially made his way to Athens as a successful trader, and his abilities as a public speaker and poet began to gain him recognition.

In 595 BCE, Athens and Megara were in dispute over the possession of Solon’s home island, Salamis. Initially, the Athenians faced constant defeat and began to consider relinquishing ownership. When Solon learned of his new city’s decision, he ran into the marketplaces, feigning madness, and had a herald read out his poetry, bolstering the Athenians’ confidence. With Solon’s help, the Athenians recommitted to the war and defeated Megara.

In the late 7th and early 6th centuries, many Greek city-states observed the emergence of a new type of leader: the tyrant. These tyrants were almost exclusively wealthy noblemen who established dictatorships within their cities. Both the cities of Megara and Sicyon had recently succumbed to the rule of tyrants. A nobleman called Cylon had unsuccessfully tried to take control of Athens as a tyrant.

According to Plutarch, the Athenian citizens gave Solon temporary autocratic powers as chief Archon, trusting him to put laws and economic policies in place that would address the issues that could allow the emergence of a tyranny.

Solon introduced a set of ordinances called the seisachtheia. These new laws helped reduce widespread serfdom and slavery through debt relief. He then abolished and revised the brutal Draconian Laws that had been established a few decades earlier. They were considered particularly harsh, demanding the death penalty for even minor offences. He introduced trial by jury to place justice in the hands of the people.

Solon also introduced a new political system called a Timocracy. This reform reduced the power of the nobility by making wealth rather than birth the qualification for holding political office. Solon also divided the citizens of Attica into four groups based on their land production: the pentakoosiomedimnoi, hippeis, zeugitae, and thetes. Each division had different rights based on how much they contributed, for example, a pentakoosiomedimnoi could become Archon, but a thetes could only ever attend the assembly. Each year, each group elected 100 men to the Boule or council of 400 to act as an advisory committee to the Athenian assembly.

Although Solon’s new system still relegated the poor to a less powerful position, the Timocracy gave all citizens the power to elect their officials, laying the foundations of what would later become Greek democracy.

After Solon established his new laws, he left the country for ten years. Some argue he did so to ensure that his new laws could not be challenged, as that would only be possible if he were there to defend them.

Whatever his reasons, Solon began to travel the Mediterranean, going to Egypt, Cyprus, and Lydia. But back in Athens, many old tensions resurfaced, and elected officials refused to give up their powers. The political tension led to a relative of Solon called Pisistratus seizing control and establishing himself as a tyrant of Athens. When Solon returned after his ten-year journey, he became Pisistratus’ loudest critic. Failing to make an impact, Solon left for Cyprus, where he spent the remainder of his life.  He died at the age of 80 and as requested, had his ashes spread over the island of Salamis. On his statue is the epitaph: “Salamis, isle that halted the arrogant Persian assault, Bred this man Solon, holy founder of laws.”

5. Chilon of Sparta (c. 6th century BCE)

Son of Damagetus, Chilon of Sparta was an influential politician and poet.  In 556/5 BCE, Chilion was elected an ephor (a senior Spartan magistrate) and, according to Pamphile, he was the first ephor. Chilon is credited with changing the Spartans’ foreign policy and militarizing Spartan society, a move that would later allow for the establishment of the Peloponnesian League. He helped overthrow the tyrants in Sicyon and ensured that they would become an ally of Sparta. According to Diogenes, Chilon introduced the custom of joining the ephors to the kings as their counselors.

Legend says he died of happiness when he saw his son win the gold in boxing at the Olympics. Everyone at the festival honored him by joining in his funeral procession. He wrote over 200 lines of poetry, and the people of Sparta remembered him by the inscription they left on his statue: “this man the spear-crowned town of Sparta sired, Chilon, He who was first of the seven sages in wisdom.”

6. Cleobulus of Lindos (c. 6th century BCE)

Son of Evagoras, Cleobulus of Lindos was a renowned poet and philosopher who claimed to be a descendant of Hercules. Plutarch remembers him as a tyrant, and it is reported that he reigned as the tyrant of Lindos for nearly 40 years.

Cleobulus traveled to Egypt, where he learned philosophy and he applied his critical thinking to his poetry. He was remembered fondly for the complex word puzzles he created. Cleobulus was considered somewhat controversial in his time as he encouraged and supported his daughter Cleobulina’s poetic career. Like her father, Cleobulina composed complex poetic riddles and puzzles. He advocated for the education of women and implied that only educated women should be eligible for marriage.  Cleobulus wrote thousands of lines of poetry and is credited with restoring the temple of Athena, which was initially built by Danaus.

7. Periander of Corinth (627-585 BCE)

Periander of Corinth was the son of Cypselus, the first tyrant of Corinth. As such, Periander inherited his father’s role as Corinth’s undisputed leader. He led the city to become one of the major centers of trade in ancient Greece.

His life was littered with controversy. It was rumored that his mother Crateia began a sexual relationship with him while he was still an adolescent. Although he appeared to enjoy this, once word got out, he became aggressive toward almost everyone.

He married a noble named Lysida or Melissa, and they had two sons: the weak-minded Cypselus, and the intelligent Lycophron. Unfortunately, while pregnant with their third child, Periander kicked Lyside down some stairs, killing her. One of his concubines fed him lies about her and paid for it when he had her burned alive. Periander regretted his actions, but this did not stop his son Lycophron from leaving Corinth for Corcyra, as he no longer wished to look upon his mother’s murderer.

Under his leadership, Periander expanded Corinth’s borders by conquering Epidaurus, annexing Corcyra, and extending the city’s influence by establishing new colonies at Potidaea in Chalcidice and Apollonia in Illyria. He is credited with inventing a new transport system over the isthmus of Corinth called the Diolkos. This new system created a paved track that carried ships over land on wheeled carts from the eastern port of Cenchreae to the western port of Lechaeon.

Periander used the revenue from Corinth’s expanding trade to further improve the city through building new public works and funding the arts. Under his leadership, the city gained new temples, an improved drainage system, and better public access to clean water. He organized for poets and writers, such as Arion and Aesop, to come and perform at city festivals. Periander also ensured that artists would have the support and freedom to experiment and expand their skills. Under his leadership, the Corinthian style of pottery was created. According to Diogenes, Periander also composed a 3000-line poem called Precepts.

Nearing the end of his life, Periander sent word to his son Lycophron in Corcyra to take his place as a tyrant of Corinth. Lycophron would only agree if Periander agreed to leave Corinth and take his place in Corcyra. When the people of Corcyra heard of this compromise, they decided to kill Lycophron rather than have father and son switch places. Periander retaliated and had 50 Corcyreans executed and ordered 300 of their children to be taken to Lydia to become eunuchs. However, the children were given sanctuary on the island of Samos.

But the death of his son was too much, and Periander died not long afterwards and was succeeded by his nephew Psammetichus. His epitaph reads: “Chief in wealth and wisdom, here lies Periander, held in his homeland’s bosom, Corinth by the sea.”

During the reign of King Cyrus the Great, the Persians carved out a massive empire. From its source in modern-day Iran, the empire stretched as far east as India and as far west as the Balkans. To keep such a large and diverse empire under Persian control, it was necessary that information could be carried across its territory quickly and efficiently. Cyrus innovated a new messenger system that relied on sending messengers along a Royal Road with established waystations to pick up fresh horses, take on supplies, or even pass an urgent message onto a fresh rider. This cut royal communication times in the Persian empire to a third of the previous time, and established a precedent copied across the world.

Meet Cyrus the Great

When Cyrus the Great became the leader of the Mede empire, his first step was to consolidate his power over the various clans on the Iranian plateau, founding the Achaemenid Dynasty. Once secure in his power base, he began a series of conquests that brought more of the Near East under his control. By the time of his death, Cyrus’ empire stretched from Anatolia in the west to India in the East, including the Levant, Armenia, parts of the Arabian Peninsula, and extending as far north as Kazakhstan. These conquests made the Persian Empire the largest in the ancient world. It contained diverse ethnic and cultural groups, now under the rule of the King of Kings.

Cyrus was not only a military leader but a man of astute vision. Dynamic in his leadership, he was surprisingly tolerant of defeated foes, allowing conquered peoples to maintain their own cultural traditions and religious beliefs, incorporating some of their ideas into the mainstream Persian culture. He knew that such a large territory would require careful management to prevent rebellions and make governing as efficient as possible. Not bound by tradition, he was happy to adopt foreign ideas and innovate.

The Royal Road

One of Cyrus’ most important innovations was the Royal Road. Roadways made by monarchs in the region were nothing new. Assyrian kings had a network of roads across their lands. In fact, much of the Royal Road was probably made from segments of the old Assyrian pathways. The major difference was the scale of the Royal Road. It stretched from the city of Susa, in the south of modern-day Iran near the Persian Gulf, to Sardis, located in modern-day Turkey near the Aegean Sea. It covered a total distance of 1,677 miles, though it is important to note that the road did not travel in a straight line between the two cities. The road traveled due east for a stretch, then turned sharply south, then east again, repeating this several times. It has been speculated that this was to take advantage of the older Assyrian roads in the region.

Under normal circumstances, a person on foot can travel the length of this road in about three months, provided they aren’t in any particular hurry. However, Cyrus knew that timely information was the key to his success. With this in mind, he devised a solution that would greatly expedite travel time.

The Angarium

Enter the Angarium. This is the Latinized version of the Greek word angaros, or messenger, though the Persians called the system the Chapar Khaneh, or Courier House. Regardless of the name, the system was as simple as it was revolutionary. All along the Royal Road were way-stations. At each of these locations, a messenger could exchange horses for fresh steeds, pick up provisions, and get some much-needed rest. By having these services already available, the courier did not have to waste time allowing his horse to rest before continuing on his journey or spend valuable time searching for food, water, or shelter.

These couriers exclusively served the Persian king, so they were single-minded in their task. When a courier stopped at a station, he could simply exchange his tired horse for a fresh mount, gather extra food and water, and be on his way again at full speed in a matter of minutes. Following a well-maintained road also meant no time lost to navigation. They also often worked in relays, with the initial messenger passing on the message to a fresh horse and rider while he rested.

Under ideal conditions, a message could travel from Susa to Sardis in about nine days, one-tenth the time it would normally take on foot. This rapid communication allowed the Persian kings to be informed of emergencies in their realm quickly and respond rapidly. The relay system implemented by Cyrus was improved by his successor Darius the Great, allowing the Persians to govern their large territory with a degree of efficiency unheard of up to that point. Other roads were also built, giving the King of Kings great control over his realm.

Imitation

Herodotus, in his Histories, wrote extensively about the Chapar Khaneh. He described the number of stations, claiming 111, and acknowledged the safety a traveler could find along the roadway. He also praised the messengers themselves, stating that they follow a very regimented procedure for delivering and relaying messages and that “neither snow nor rain nor heat nor darkness of night prevents them from accomplishing each one the task proposed to him, with the very utmost speed.” The roadway itself was so effective that it would eventually be incorporated into the Silk Road that connected China to Europe.

Other cultures emulated the Persian model. Rome built a vast network of roads that connected its empire, many of which are still in use today. They also established the cursus publicus, a system of mail and message delivery that helped facilitate communication within the realm of the Caesars. It initially worked on the same relay system as the Persians, with a series of messengers relaying the parcels. This later changed to a single courier, probably to ensure his trustworthiness. This system outlasted the empire itself, with evidence that the Visigoths in Italy continued to use the system. Other systems based on this were established by the Byzantine Empire, and similar systems were used throughout medieval Europe and the Middle East.

Millennia later and a continent away, the Pony Express in the United States operated on the same principle. Express riders traveled from outpost to outpost across the untamed American West, handing off messages to fresh riders at specific points. It was hoped that the rapid communication would help open up the frontier and keep the new state of California connected with the rest of the country. It was an initial success, and mail could be brought from Missouri to California in about ten days. Though it was effective, it was an outdated concept almost at its inception. Shortly after being set up, the first transcontinental telegraph was completed, making the Pony Express redundant. In October 1861 it shut down just 18 months after being established.

The Modern Legacy

With modern technology, such as automobiles and aircraft, the Persian idea of relaying messages is no longer needed, but that does not mean it still does not have an important legacy. As one of the first mail delivery systems, it set the benchmark for all subsequent postal services. The Chapar Khaneh became the inspiration, if not the model for, message delivery around the ancient and medieval world.

Perhaps the most important aspect of the legacy was the determination and dedication to duty displayed by the Persian messengers themselves. As Herodotus states, “neither snow nor rain nor heat nor darkness of night prevents from accomplishing each one the task proposed to him, with the very utmost speed.”

Inspired by these words, the James A Farley Post Office building in New York City is inscribed with the motto “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” The words emphasize the commitment to quality service, dedication to duty, and the willingness to endure hardship to deliver vital messages and parcels to the American people. It is not an official motto of the United States Postal Service, but it still captures the spirit of their mindset, and is a creed of modern postal workers living thousands of years after their Persian counterparts.

Of course, the USPS readily acknowledges that there may be delays in mail delivery due to inclement weather, but it’s the thought that counts.

According to legend, the Library of Alexandria was a great repository of knowledge constructed in the capital of Hellenistic Egypt. It is reported that over the course of 300 years, it accumulated almost half a million papyrus scrolls and contained much of the knowledge of the ancient world. Unfortunately, a significant section of the library was burned in 48 BCE during Julius Caesar’s civil wars, and it suffered further devastating destruction in the 3rd century CE. It was assumed that the library lost its importance, but new excavations of the site suggest that between the 5th and 7th centuries CE, the site of the Library may have become a major learning complex, called an Akadēmeia, which was a kind of prototype Late Antique university.

Note: In April 2025, at the American Center for Research in Egypt (ACRE) Conference, Richard Marranca sat down with Kholoud Mohamed Shawky to discuss the Akadēmeia of Alexandria in Late Antiquity; this article is the fruit of their conversation. Richard attended the conference on an award from the Kogan Fund of the Religion Department at Montclair University.

Kholoud worked as an archaeologist for Egypt’s Ministry of Antiquity and participated in the study of the last lecture hall at the Alexandria site. She is pursuing a PhD in Alexandria University and wrote her master’s thesis on “The Architecture of Educational Buildings in Egypt at the late Roman period, in the light of the recent discoveries at Kom el-Dikka, in Alexandria”

The Library of Alexandria: A Hellenistic Knowledge Repository

After Alexander the Great conquered Egypt, he established the most famous of his eponymous cities on the northern coast of Egypt, Alexandria. Established in 332 BCE and then constructed under the Ptolemaic dynasty, the Egyptian city was designed following the Hippodamian grid plan of Greek cities, creating the ancient nation’s first Hellenistic city. The city plan consisted of two main roads intersecting at right angles, with side streets running parallel to form a chessboard-like pattern. According to the Greek geographer Strabo, who visited in 25 BCE when Egypt was under Roman rule, one of the most important complexes in the city was the Museion, the temple dedicated to the goddesses of science and arts. The Library of Alexandria was attached to the temple, alongside a hall for scholarly meetings, a dining room, and public gardens.

This description evokes the Greek gymnasia, institutions of physical exercise that existed in Athens from the 6th century BCE onwards. It also brings to mind the schools of the Athenian philosophers, including the Κυνόσαργες (Cynosarges, associated with the Cynic Antisthenes), the Ἀκαδημία (Academy of Plato), and the Λύκειον (Lyceum of Aristotle), where philosophers developed their ideas and taught the youth in the 5th and 4th centuries BCE.

Excavating the Library of Alexandria

In 2005, an Egyptian-Polish mission, working at the Kom El-Dikka archaeological site, which encompasses the site of the ancient library, announced the discovery of 22 lecture halls in the center of Late Antique Alexandria, which flourished around the 6th century CE. These halls were designed as elongated exedrae, which are arcades with benched seats. They had three or five graded benches running along three sides, centered on some small steps that led to a main teaching chair, and a podium on the floor that confronts both the benches and the professor’s chair. Three of these lecture halls also had a cistern. Ten of the halls had anterooms with no traces of benches, while the anterooms of the three largest halls, measuring 17 meters long, had benches.

All the lecture halls were located within a significant urban complex that was built around big imperial baths flanked by monumental colonnades. In addition to the exedrae, numerous public buildings were built around it, including spacious bathing chambers that could accommodate hundreds of users every day, bathing pools, gymnasia for sports, and public latrines. A complex system of furnaces was used for heating water, which was drawn from the nearby cisterns. All the buildings are oriented north-south, except for two double halls with an external apse towards the east.

An Antique University

It is worth noting that scholars and researchers excavating the site have referred to these unique halls as the “Akadēmeia.” They describe it as the prototype of a new kind of educational organization characterized by regular attendance and study of science (e.g., arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music) in permanent buildings, with specialized professors, and a complete scientific curriculum.

In Late Antiquity, as part of the Byzantine Roman Empire between the 5th and 7th centuries CE, Alexandria rose to prominence as an intellectual center of higher education, attracting both students from the aristocracy and distinguished teachers. Many biographies of famous thinkers indicate that they spent time or resided in Alexandria. To name but a few, there was Proclus, one of the most famous pagan philosophers in Athens in the 5th century CE; the Arab physician and pagan philosopher Gessios of Petra; the Patriarch Severus of Antioch; the Neoplatonic philosopher Damascius; the mathematician Theon and his daughter Hypatia; and the physician Agapios. This concentration of great minds in Alexandria has earned it the nickname the “Oxford of Late Antiquity.” It now seems that more than just being a gathering of minds, Byzantine Alexandria also had the physical infrastructure to support this time of learning.

When the Christian rhetorician Procopius (c. 465-526 BCE) was heading the school of Gaza, he described Alexandria as ὴ οίκνή τὥν λόγων μήτηρ (the house of the mother of words), suggesting its important role in education and culture in the 5th and 6th centuries CE. Sadly, the Akadēmeia was largely destroyed with the Persian conqquered Egypt in the early 7th century CE.