The Hellenistic Age: A Short History

The Hellenistic Age: A Short History

Peter Green

The Modern Library, 2007

199 pp.

Professional historians are supposed to be objective and relate current facts and research. As dispassionate as they can possibly be, the historian reconstructs the pieces to offer a picture of ancient times, mores, ideas, advances and limitations. Sometimes, the historian may begin with a preconceived notion, only to see the final picture differ at completion. At other times, the historian may marshall his research to produce a conclusion close to what he originally considered, only to face scrutiny from his colleagues using the same evidence.

What an historian is not supposed to do, however, is to inject his moral opinion and modern standards back onto his subject. And given the morass that can be ancient politics, it’s an amazing feat the Paul Green manages to sail through centuries worth of bloodshed, intrigue, corruption and murder with nary a tsk tsk at some of the most egregious actors.

The moral angle of reading ancient history, especially Greek and Roman, has fascinated me for some time. As a reader, I have the luxury of forming my own opinions that an historian cannot afford. And in reading this brief, yet thoroughly compact review of history in “The Hellenistic Age,” I could barely contain my contempt for so many corrupt and murderous people who nonetheless shaped the ancient world through sheer acts of will. After all, quiet men (and women) do not make history: it is the bold, the audacious and the evil ones who move societies and turn the pages of history. If Julius Caesar had been a milquetoast, we would never have studied him in school.

This moral outrage can be a pitfall, of course, because it forces the ancient world to conform to our modern notions of politesse and civility. (And it forces the modern reader to engage a serious look at how hypocritical that stance can be, given that while the names and dates may change, politicians are as corrupt and conniving as always.) For example, as intrigued as I am by ancient Sparta, I cannot help but conclude that there was nothing noble about these people at all. Their entire state existed on twin pillars of abject cruelty: the slavery of the helots and their own monstrous breaking of free will and self-determination. Yet at the same time, I understand the value of what they tried and did accomplish: without question, they were the ancient world’s most impressive and winning military force. Their state was founded on one thing and one thing only: winning wars. They had virtually unparalleled success in that. Yet my disgust at their totalitarian system makes me glad to finish whatever book I’m reading about them, like shaking myself from a bad reverie.

Fundamentally, I know this attitude is without merit. My moral indignation does not change any fact or alter the outcome. It’s precisely that Spartan system that lead the doomed 300 to fight at Thermopylae to their “beautiful” deaths. By the same token, as Mr. Green describes the fallout from Alexander the Great’s failure to name a successor, how can I be surprised that the ensuing power struggle meant just that: a fight for control and supremacy, and not a modern course in “conflict resolution?” The myriad characters in Mr. Green’s book do just that: everything they need to survive, whether themselves or their families. And if others get in the way, well, don't be surprised if that wine bowl is spiked with poison.

Beginning with Alexander and finishing with the battle of Actium, Mr. Green’s book covers such wide territory that it’s an impressive feat to have done so much in under 200 pages. But these pages are filled with so much historical data that his work becomes an invaluable introduction to a detailed study of the period, filling us in with the machinations of dozens of people What is most striking is the endless march of conflict: from Alexander’s death in Babylon, violence took no respite, as his self-styled “Successors” acted quickly to take what lands and power they could. One can almost sympathize: his generals had been with him for the entire duration of his breathtaking conquests that surely they must have felt entitled. Still, while Mr. Green is dispassionate while recounting the facts of who fought whom (and whose wife dispatched of her adulterous husband), I’m reminded of that famous summation that life is nasty, short and brutish. Even though written for a general audience, there is no room for the squeamish. Political killing almost becomes as art form, and the lands from Greece through Egypt and Mesopotamia seem to have no respite, what with the constant march of armies, rebellions and the carving of spheres of influence. Looking back over 2,000 years later, it would appear that in the Middle East, plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

Fortunately, Mr. Green balances the mayhem with other considerations, especially with what I believe to be the longer-lasting impact: culture. Alexander may have blazed a trail from Greece to the Indus Valley, but along the way, he extended Greek culture and language with the cities he ordered built and the garrisons he left in charge. The lessons in the Greek language he later ordered for his newly integrated Persian officers may not have mitigated his destruction of Persepolis or even the death of the Great King, Darius III, but the effect stayed rooted in all the lands he crossed, long after his own demise. Egypt turned into a Greek city; Greek make inroads in Palestine and most significantly, when Rome asserted its growing power and influence, her newly emboldened masters made off with the treasures of Greek sculpture. It’s an interesting thought experiment to wonder if Greek culture would have been as influential on Rome had there been no Alexander, but such an absence definitely would have made the world of East much different if no one there spoke Greek or had been introduced to Greek ideas.

But what did all these changes, over the course of centuries, mean for common people? Interestingly, Mr. Green ends his slim volume with a nod in their direction—the mountain tribesmen, peasant farmers and slaves—with an easy summation: nothing. We read of history with its names, schemes, assassinations and reforms, but for common people, it was all but a change of masters. All of the philosophical systems that come down to us were not meant for the hoi polloi. Alexander, Mark Antony or even Augustus were not on the scene to liberate anyone. But while this change would come centuries later, Mr. Green does an admirable job chronicling the people and influences that literally changed history.