Tag Archives: History

On Ares

We Americans have a problematic relationship with Ares.

I didn’t realize this until recently. It started with Galina’s Ares agon in March, and the revelations have been coming over time since.

Lest this seem primarily academic, I’d like to note that has become increasingly clear to me that Ares is (and always was) a powerful force in American culture. Indeed, the great conflicts tearing at our nation can be viewed as having their root in the unresolved conflicts between an Athenian worldview and an Arean worldview.

We need to be able to synthesize the union of both if we are to have any hope of healing our nation and preserving the worldwide progress (yes, there’s actually been a lot of good) made possible by our divinely-inspired experiment of a republic.

Let’s start with our typical, Western understanding of Ares. We know Him as the God of War… and that’s about it. The portrayals of Him tend to fall into one of two camps- a god of courage and honor in the face of bloody horror or a god who delights in unmitigated slaughter.

Here is a clip from the film Patton, based on a real (and more profanity-filled) speech General Patton gave. If you can find the entire speech, it typifies attributes we might associate with Ares as a god of courage and bloodlust:

The latter portrayal, fairly common in media, holds Ares up as some sort of “god of war crimes”. For instance, the recent Wonder Woman film imagines a character (very) loosely based on Ares guiding humans in the creation of chemical weapons. Other example can be found in the game God of War, in which the protagonist becomes embodiment of this stereotype in his quest to kill Ares for tricking him into slaying his wife and child.

To be fair, courage and bloodlust are both most certainly aspects He embodies. But is that really all?

In the Iliad, Homer represents Ares as dishonest for supporting both sides in the Trojan War. Homer even goes so far as to suggest that Zeus Himself holds this view. But of course, the Iliad is also a story, one passed down verbally across generations and likely to some degree altered to fit the prejudices of its audience- namely scholars.

I find it interesting that a deity who is frequently named among the Olympians is always presented so two-dimensionally and nearly always antagonistically.

If Ares is a cardboard villain, why is He an Olympian? In fact, given that He is usually portrayed as losing, why is He the God of War at all?

Because He’s not a caricature.

Look at the Classical antagonism between Athena and Ares. Clearly there is a difference in methods and mentality between Them, despite both being associated with war.

Athena is generally shown as consistant, intelligent, and considered. Ares, on the other hand, is usually represented as inconsistent, stupid, and foolish.

Laying aside the prejudices of Athens-aligned Greeks, why is that? Why would the Spartans have held Ares up as a model soldier if He were indeed wavering, mulish, or prone to losing?

Let’s remember that the Hellenic powers often carry opposing mysteries, not good-and-evil, but rather differening sides of a “higher” concept. Take the titan Prometheus (“Forethought”) and His brother Epimetheus (“Afterthought”). In Them we find a dichotomy of divinities, one clever and the other foolish.

Does this mean that since Athena carries the trait of wisdom, Ares must carry the trait of foolishness? Only if wisdom is the trait in question. I suspect the conflicted distinction between Them is something else entirely.

Let’s leave aside this question of wisdom for now and look at what else we know about Ares from the little that comes down to us.

Ares killed another divinity for raping His daughter Alcippe. He stood trial and was acquitted because the other gods considered the murder justified. Even the people of Athens (who typically gave Ares short shrift) enshrined this facet of Him by continuing to hold their most serious criminal cases on the same hill where that first trial is said to have taken place.

So is He a god of justice? Certainly not in the traditional sense, though the Hellenes had no shortage of such deities. Dike and Themis stand amongst the most notable, yet there are others such as Nemesis and Adrestia and even the Erinyes. These latter powers carry more vengeful forms of addressing wrongdoing- yet the people of Athens also acknowledge Them as employing valid methods in the correct time and place.

Adrestia, in particular, is of note here because She is the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite. Another daughter of Theirs is Harmonia, the Goddess of Concord (yes, PEACE).

It doesn’t make much sense that a god whose only traits are slaughter, machismo, and foolishness could father such a child, even in the arms of Aphrodite, whose love is beyond human comprehension. Given that some of their other children include Phobos (“Fear”) and Deimos (“Dread”) who bring much of the horror associated with Their father, it’s clear that the apples didn’t fall far from the tree.

Let’s look at a couple of the other deities who arise from the union of Aphrodite and Ares- Eros and Anteros. Eros holds the mystery of sexual passion, while His brother Anteros both blesses mutual (requited) love and avenges wrongful spurning.

Are you noticing the trend here? There are other traits than violence, or perhaps one big trait, at work in these offspring. Of course, given the variances between different Hellenic cosmogenies they might be more allegorical than literal; but, if so the stories become all the more valuable in helping us to understand how Classical polytheists understood Ares.

One of Athena’s defining characteristics is how She exemplifies a rich internal life replete with introspection, knowledge, careful consideration, and precise exercise of Her strength to achieve an end. She is patient, observant, and measured, to some observers even cold and unemotional. She is also no stranger to subtlety and uses Her superior intellect to lay traps for Her foes.

If we examine Ares through this lens, we find something interesting. He rarely hides anything (and fails when He tries). He acts, rather than taking time to weigh options. He speaks His mind, to the point of seeming boastful, childish, or inconsistent to some observers. Ares’ life is almost entirely external and filled with intense passion and emotional honesty.

While some might see this as akin to a male-female dichotomy, or something like the interplay in the Taiji, I suspect the Hellenes viewed these traits more granularly. After all, while Ares is certainly very masculine, so is Zeus, who carries mysteries that require much more internalization and consideration.

If this raw openess, not slaughter or courage, is the great mystery of Ares, how then does this change our understanding of Him? How does this alter our perceptions of the Hellenic relationship with Him and how should it refine and redefine how we seek to build and sustain relations with Him?

Let us stop to consider some common American phrases that might help us bridge to these other faces of Ares:

  • “Oh, HELL No!” – An expression of determined opposition to something perceived as unfair or otherwise morally wrong.
  • “Hold my beer.” – An expression of an intent to attempt to overcome some seemingly insurmountable obstacle, regardless of the advisability of the attempt.
  • “Over my dead body.” – An expression of firm, open opposition implying that the speaker will fight to the death to prevent something.

All of these (and more) seem to me to carry some small spark of this mystery of Ares, the power of externalizing and acting instead of internalizing and contemplating.

That’s not to say that there is no place in a human life for Athena’s mysteries- of course there are. What I’m suggesting is that we are unbalanced as a society. Those of us on the more educated side of things tend to favor an Athenian approach, perhaps even to the complete exclusion of Arean methods where appropriate.

Again, if we stop thinking of Him purely as the God of War and instead respect Him in this wider role, we have much to learn that is to our benefit. For instance, as the patron of “Oh, HELL no!”, Ares lends validity to our first, instinctive gut reactions. How many of us have known going into a situation that it would turn out badly, but intellectualized our way into it anyway?

As the patron of “Hold my beer”, Ares encourages us to take risks and to challenge ourselves in new ways. Our nation was built largely by people who risked everything for something they hoped would be better. While plenty of avoidable conflict resulted, risk-taking also gave us new forms of art, explosive growth in science and technology, and even many experimental social reforms that once seemed unthinkable.

Speaking of social reform, as the patron of “Over my dead body”, Ares gives the strength of conviction in times when no rational person would do what is necessary:

A lone protester holds back a line of tanks though pure resolve.

Notice there is no howling, no bloody berserker rage, and yet this is a battlefield. You can’t see it in the picture, but by the end, hundreds would die. Any one of those tanks could have ground that protester into hamburger without hesitation. But they did hesitate. They hesitated because that young man embodied “Over my dead body”, not with violence but with the willingness to suffer it.

Was Ares involved in that exact incident? I can’t say for sure. However, I suspect some power stepped in. Given that a statue of a torch-wielding Goddess of Liberty was destroyed nearby the night before, it’s certainly possible that Athena and Ares were both paying close attention.

On the flip side, of course, our nation has many citizens who only operate from an in-the-moment, gut-driven viewpoint. Obviously they have a great deal to learn from Athena’s mysteries.

In general, though, those people aren’t reading this.

I’m writing this to me, and to you… and we both have a lot to learn from a holy power that many our culture has written off as a monster, or a moron at best. Ares is Ares, and we need to embrace His mysteries too if we want to become healthy, balanced human beings.

Daniel on the Hill – An Allegorical Tale

Centuries ago, in a land long since drowned, a man stepped out of a tavern and closed the door.  His heart was heavy with fear and anger and worry.  The distant hooting of an owl echoed through the trees as he stepped into the night.  Smoking his clay pipe, the man walked home with apprehension, stopping near the top of a hill to look down at his farm.

“What troubles you, Daniel,” inquired a woman’s voice.

Looking around, the man saw a well-dressed woman sitting on a tree stump.  He could not believe that he had been so lost in his thoughts that he had missed her sitting there holding a torch, especially a torch that shone so brightly and steadily-for it did not gutter and flicker in the wind.

“I am worried that the tax men will take my farm,” he answered, not knowing why he shared this burden with a strange woman that he did not recognize.  She was handsome, but in the sturdy way of the Yankee women who labored in the snow alongside their husbands.  He appreciated her strong beauty, but knew that it was not feminine wiles that moved his tongue.

“Yes, they are going to take your farm.  I’m sorry.”  The strange woman looked genuinely sad.  “It was necessary.”

“What do you mean, necessary?  Are you the one taking my farm?”

“Directly?  No.  But you offered it to me when you took up my cause, and now it is needful that it be sacrificed.”

“To you?  I never… Who ARE you?”

“You do not recognize me?”  The woman looked genuinely hurt.  Her eyes widened, and in the torchlight shone silver, like mirrors.  The man felt his attention pulled into those vast, shining eyes.

He stood, again, in a field that he had stood in many years ago.  The sun beat down upon his woolen tunic, smoke and stench filled his nose.  Ragged militiamen crowded around him, seeking reassurance, courage, leadership from the poor farmer.  He himself looked about for guidance.  A sea of carmine marched inexorably closer- the finest and most feared soldiers in the world advanced across the field, bearing death.  Horrified now, the man glanced about like a drowning man seeking a tree limb.  His eyes locked upon a giant of a man astride a white horse.  The General.  Behind him, almost invisible, a woman whispered in his ear.

Standing again upon the hilltop, the man realized that this strange woman’s collar and bodice were not of cloth, but of hammered bronze.  Her dress was not cloth, but mail so finely wrought as to drape and billow in the breeze.  She shifted, and he could see the hilt of a sword buckled about Her waist.

“Columbia.”  As the name left his lips he had to fight the buckling of his knees.  Terror and ardor played across his bones as he faced Her, knowing that Her words rang with truth.

“Or, as Doctor Franklin preferred, America.  And other names to other men in other days.”  She smiled briefly and then Her face grew serious.

“When your great men declared independence, they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor- to each other, and to me and to my Republic.  Many of those men’s sacrifices have already been laid upon my altar.  When you took up their cause, you offered the same.”

“But the war is won.  Why do you come for me now?”

“Is it?  Just now you came from a meeting in which your friends begged you to take up your sword and lead them against the tyrants in Boston.”

“I sold my sword.  I needed the money.”

“This sword?”  She gestured at the hilt at Her waist.  The man could see that it was the very same sword given to him by LaFayette.  “My sword is every sword wielded for justice.  My spear is every spear thrust against tyranny.  Do not despair at the want of a sword, I offer you another.”

“To defeat Bowdoin and his bankers?”

“No.  To be defeated by them.”

The man recoiled in horror.  “Why then offer me the sword if I am to lose?”

“My strategy is not measured in single human lifetimes.  A war amongst men is but a skirmish in my campaign.  If my Republic, OUR Republic, is to survive the next century, you must fight Boston… and lose.”

“Will I die?”

“It is hard to say.  You might.  Certainly, some of your followers will lay their lives upon my altar.  Live or die, I can promise you disgrace and if you live, financial ruin.”

“Then why try?”

“Right now, these United States are anything but united.  Your neighbors to the north, the rugged hill folk of Vermont, have been forced to declare independence from the very nation they helped to birth.  Commerce between the states is tenuous, they cannot agree on what money has value.  Poor men, many of them veterans, find themselves silenced in the halls of power that they fought to erect.  The young eagle is tearing itself apart before it even fully hatches.”

“So let Washington fix it.  Let the other great men fix it.  I’m a farmer.”

“You are also a soldier, a leader- and a good one.”

“But there are others, better leaders.  Let them put the Republic back together.”

“If they could, do you not think I would require it of them?  Your poverty, your relative isolation, your non-involvement in petty politics… all these place you and only YOU at the touchhole.  You and you alone can ignite this conflict and see it through to its necessary end.”

The man trembled, his eyes glittering with tears at the enormous burden placed upon his soul.  “If I do this, will it save the Republic?  Will it end the conflicts tearing us apart?”

“No, Daniel.  But it will make a stronger nation, one that might be able to survive what must come next.”

“Next?  NEXT?!”  He trembled now in fury as much as fear.  “How much more death do you want?  Are you so bloodthirsty that you demand endless war of us?”

“Not I, but the weakness of men- the same great men who led your nation to independence.  They embraced my Republic, but they did not offer it to all who dwell upon these shores.”

“The slaves,” he breathed.

“And the Indians, and the women, and the countless hordes that will come to dwell in the light of my freedom.  By not accepting them now, your leaders have guaranteed that those people must purchase entrance into my Republic by struggle, sacrifice, and sadly- blood.”

The men fell to his knees and wept.  “It is too much!  You ask me to give up the last of what I have, and for what?  A world in which my children and their children must make the same sacrifices?  Is there no end?”

He fell Her hand upon his cheek, and She lifted his chin until he gazed deep into the silvery pools of Her eyes.  Through Her eyes he saw terrible horrors and a growing peace that followed in their wake.  He saw injustice and cruelty- yet he saw the spread of laws and equality and charity as humankind sought to give a better world to their children.  “My campaign is long, Daniel.  I have waged this war for longer than men have recorded their history.  Every battle fought in my name, every victory, every defeat, every sacrifice- each one advances my strategy.  Each one brings your kind closer to the civilization that you are ultimately capable of.  Each one brings humanity closer to my Republic.”

“But is there a final victory?”

“Victory is never certain, Daniel.  All I can offer you is a sword, and my promise that in future days other men and women will study your struggle and decide that your sacrifice improved the lives of the generations that followed.”

“You promise this?”  He struggled to rise.

She offered him Her hand.  “I promise that if you do as I have told you, if you withhold nothing and fight as if you can win- history will declare your defeat a victory.”

He took Her hand and rose, finding himself alone in the dark holding a sword.

The rest is history.