Curmie had an essay started, linking the bellicosity of Dear
Leader and the Secretary of Drunkenness Dominionism War to Mark
Twain’s brilliant short story, “The War Prayer.” But he got bogged down in questions of
whether to include a note of personal history, and didn’t get it written before
a Facebook friend posted this piece by Renée Loth that appeared in the Boston Globe last week.
Loth says pretty much what Curmie would have said. There is one omission, however, namely the last line of Twain’s story: “It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.” That’s what really makes the point: not that “war is hell,” but that those who point out the inevitable effects of warfare are, well, “deranged” seems to be the favored adjective of the right, but “lunatic” will do.
The foregoing is not
to suggest that there is no such thing as a “just war,” but merely to argue
that what is happening in Iran doesn’t come close to that standard. Yet, although even as MAGAs are turning away
from supporting the (probably) illegal campaign against Iran, especially since
the ludicrous attacks on the Pope, there remain some once-sentient
conservatives who seem quite satisfied with a few more tens of billions of
dollars spent on creating more dead civilians.
This point is worth a paragraph but not a full post, however, so…
On to a different blast from the past. It’s about that charming rascal you see
portrayed above. The image is from an
amphora painting dating from the early 5th century BCE. The subject is the Lydian king Croesus, who
ruled, according to Herodotus, for 14 years in the middle of the previous
century. Today, Croesus is known
primarily for two things: his fabulous wealth and his misinterpretation of a
message from the Oracle at Delphi.
There’s more, of course—there’s a good summary here—but
these are the two things that have found their way into what’s been called “cultural
literacy.” And it doesn’t matter, in
those terms, whether the events described by Herodotus (known as both the
“father of history” and the “father of lies”) actually happened: knowing
nothing about Zeus or Sherlock Holmes is as problematic as ignorance of Confucius
or Eliot Ness.
Curmie hasn’t heard the phrase “as rich as Croesus” in
years, but it apparently is still in use.
Croesus’s wealth was indeed legendary throughout the ancient world. Lydia conquered Phrygia, whose rivers had
substantial deposits of gold. (Is it a
coincidence that Midas was a Phrygian king?)
And, in a variation on what happens today, the ultra-rich are in a
position to easily increase their prosperity.
Two and a half millennia ago, that meant the ability to enlist the most
skilled and well-equipped army. Today,
it’s more the ability to hire the best lawyers and accountants, and perhaps to
bribe the occasional cop or judge.
Controlling the largest media outlets is also useful, of course.
But, like his modern-day equivalents, Croesus had two significant
failings with respect to his wealth.
First, he was inordinately proud of it, to the point of angering the
gods. Stated otherwise, he was
hubristic. Secondly, he utterly failed
to understand that happiness is not solely, or even primarily, a function of one’s
financial resources and the lifestyle they afford. He demonstrates this in conversation with the
great Athenian law-giver, Solon, who declares, essentially, that a life well
lived gives greater happiness than material possessions ever could, and that
such things can only be measured at the end of a life. Croesus was furious and said Solon was
stupid.
(Note to Curmie’s former theatre history students: yes, this
is the same Solon who famously told Thespis that “if we allow ourselves to
praise and honor make-believe like this, the next thing will be to find it
creeping into our serious business.” Curmie
always gave him a Good Ol’ Boy accent, including pronouncing “business” as “bidniz.”)
So… we have leader of a country who used his position to
acquire even more personal wealth. He’s
obsessed with gold, and seems to equate prosperity with both happiness and virtue. He got angry when people didn’t tell him what
he wanted to hear. Does that sound like
anyone who might have been in the news more recently, Gentle Reader?
But wait! That’s not
all!
Most people don’t know how Croesus became rich, only
that he was rich. His colossal
misreading of the Delphic Oracle is better known. Croesus was contemplating attacking Persia,
but sent to Delphi to assess in advance his chances for success. The response: if Croesus should send an army
against the Persians he would destroy a great empire. Croesus took this as prophesying victory and moved forward with the military expedition.
The Persians under the legendary King Cyrus, were ready. The kicked the Lydians asses, in part by employing
a weapon Croesus and his troops didn’t anticipate: camels. Yes, camels.
They scared the Lydian horses; if your army relies on its cavalry and
your horses don’t cooperate, things aren’t likely to go your way.
The Oracle got it right, of course. A great empire was indeed destroyed: Croesus’s. Supposedly, he sent the ancient equivalent of
a sternly worded letter to the Oracle.
Her response, loosely translated, was “Dude. Did a great empire fall? Yes.
Do I have a reputation for being cryptic? Yes.
Don’t blame me if you can’t keep up.”
Curmie was reminded of Croesus when today’s version of a
rich, arrogant head of state (certainly a king-wannabe if not an actual
monarch) decided to attack Persia (it’s called Iran, now). He even provided his own prophecy, that “a
whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again.” Yes, that was no doubt posturing, and perhaps
was intended as some sort of bargaining chip.
But that’s not what the world heard.
Dear Leader had already destroyed much of what made the US great (if you’ll
pardon the expression, Dear Reader): he ignored promises, subverted due
process, threatened allies, openly manipulated the stock market, turned the military
against innocent citizens… well, the full list would take too long to
enumerate.
But prior to that unhinged Truth Social post on April 7,
there was the possibility of turning back.
America had already lost its status as the world leader, as a trustworthy
ally, as a dominant positive force in world affairs. But we remained a player, even if no
longer the player. That post,
though, in its malevolent braggadocio, became something of a tipping
point. It would be a stretch to say that
American civilization was destroyed on that day, but it became more imperiled
than at any point since World War II (at least). Can we find our way back? Yes, but it will take time—probably decades—to
undo the disastrous results of allowing a demented, mean-spirited, narcissist
to speak for us all.
There are differences between Dear Leader and Croesus, of
course. The latter, though arrogant and infatuated
by riches, was sane and even intelligent.
Not anticipating Persian camels in warfare pales in comparison to not
preparing for the literal inevitability of Iranian drone attacks. And in what seemed to be the last moments of
his life, as he was about to be burned alive, Croesus realized the errors of
his ways. He was not only forgiven by
Cyrus; he became a trusted advisor. The
chances that Dear Leader will ever admit to his own fallibility are about the
same as Venezuela’s dominating the next Winter Olympics.
Hey, it could happen…
No comments:
Post a Comment