THURSDAY, MAY 9, 2024
Reasoning like an Achaean: Truth be told, it didn't take much to snap the Achaeans back into line.
We return to the late Bronze Age—to the (presumably fictional) Achaean siege of Troy.
In Book Nine of the western world's first poem of war, Agamemnon lord of men suffers his latest meltdown. The murderous siege is in its tenth year at this point in time.
As we noted yesterday, Agamemnon carries the royal scepter, a legacy tracking to Zeus. But when he tells the chieftains in a nighttime council that they will never conquer Troy—when he advises them to sail back home—Diomedes of the battle cry rises and rudely objects.
In yesterday's report, we showed you part of the text.
Diomedes vows that he will stay and continue to fight, Zeus' monarch be damned. Homer records the reaction of the chieftains to what Diomedes has said:
"And all the Achaeans shouted their assent, stirred by the stallion-breaking Diomedes' challenge."
The unity of the clan was coming undone. At this point, Nestor scrambles to his feet and turns the tide of tribal impulse:
And all the Achaeans shouted their assent,
stirred by the stallion-breaking Diomedes' challenge.
But Nestor the old driver rose and spoke at once:
"Few can match your power in battle, Diomedes,
and in council you excel all men your age.
So no one could make light of your proposals,
not the whole army—who could contradict you?
But you don't press on and reach a useful end.
How young you are—why, you could be my son,
my youngest-born at that, though you urge our kings
with cool clear sense: what you've said is right.
But it's my turn now, Diomedes,
I think I can claim to have some years on you.
So I must speak up and drive the matter home.
And no one will heap contempt on what I say,
not even mighty Agamemnon. Lost to the clan,
lost to the hearth, lost to the old ways, that one
who lusts for all the horrors of war with his own people.
Nestor directs the sentries to "take up posts, squads fronting the trench we dug outside the rampart."
He then directs the lord of men to prepare a feast "for all your senior chiefs." ("That is your duty, a service that becomes you.")
As he concludes his remarks, he continues addressing the lord of men. History records the way the troops reacted:
"Come, gather us all and we will heed that man
who gives the best advice. That's what they need,
I tell you—all the Achaeans—good sound advice,
now our enemies, camping hard against the ships,
kindle their watchfires round us by the thousands.
What soldier could warm to that? Tonight's the night
that rips our ranks to shreds or pulls us through."
The troops hung on his words and took his orders.
Out they rushed, the sentries in armor, forming
under the son of Nestor, captain Thrasymedes...
It didn't take much to convince the Achaeans. "Out they rushed, the sentries in armor," prepared to continue their siege. During his feast with his senior commanders, the lord of men confesses to his latest bout of "madness."
So it went in the days when the Achaeans waged war against Troy.
We're going to wait until tomorrow to examine their reason for staging this war in the first place. All in all, it didn't take much to convince the Achaeans that they should stand and continue to fight.
Put another way, it didn't take much to convince the troops that they should align themselves with the will of "the clan"—that above all else, they must avoid the horrors of war, of disagreement, with their own people.
Walk like an Egyptian, the Bangles once thoughtfully said. The year was 1986.
All these years later, the recording boasts its own Wikipedia page. The leading authority on the recording offers such nuggets as these:
Walk Like an Egyptian
"Walk Like an Egyptian" is a song by the American band the Bangles. It was released in September 1986 as the third single from the band's second studio album, Different Light (1986). It was the band's first number-one single, being certified gold by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), and was ranked Billboard's number-one song of 1987.
Composition
Liam Sternberg said he was inspired to create the song while on a ferry crossing the English Channel. When the vessel hit choppy water, passengers stepped carefully and moved their arms awkwardly while struggling to maintain their balance, and that reminded Sternberg of the depiction of human figures in ancient Egyptian tomb paintings. He wrote the words "Walk like an Egyptian" in a notebook. Later, Sternberg looked back in the notebook and, composing the melody with a guitar, he put together an up-tempo song with lyrics about Egyptian hieroglyphs, the Nile River, crocodiles, desert sand, bazaars and hookah pipes and then segued into modern scenes of blonde waitresses, school children and police officers.
Chart performance
"Walk Like an Egyptian" was the third single released from Different Light. It debuted on the Billboard Hot 100 in September 1986. The song reached a peak of number three on the UK Singles Chart in November 1986 and reached number one in the US on December 20, staying at the top of the Hot 100 for four weeks, carrying it over into January 1987...
Airplay restrictions
"Walk Like an Egyptian" was one of the songs which were claimed to have been banned by Clear Channel following the September 11, 2001 attacks. In researching this, Snopes found that the list was simply suggestions regarding songs to be sensitive about when deciding what to play. It was also included in a "list of records to be avoided" drawn up by the BBC during the Gulf War.
Everyone liked the silly song—until the Gulf War started, followed by the September 11 attack.
Walk like an Egyptian, the Bangles had advised. At the present time, is it possible that we the people of our two Americas are reasoning like the Achaeans?
(To the extent that our reactions and impulses involve any "reasoning" at all.)
As sacred Homer once recorded, it didn't take much to rally the troops after Agamemnon, lord of men, suffered his latest meltdown. Animal spirit drove their reaction—animal spirit, and the desire to avoid breaking faith with the clan.
The current impulses of our own Blue tribe have us thinking back to that first war poem. More specifically, those impulses—those reactions—make us think of the motive which brought the Achaeans troops to the plains outside Troy in the first place.
Similar impulses are at play in Book One of the great war poem—in the chapter called "The Rage of Achilles." In fact, the Iliad is driven by bouts of rage throughout-and that includes the primal bout of rage which originally led the Achaeans to sail for Troy.
By modern standards, the Achaeans of the Iliad are basically out of their minds. They fight and die on the plains outside Troy because of one particular (perceived) blow to their honor.
They've already fought and died for more than nine years as the poem starts. Now, a new bout of rage defines the structure of the ensuing poem—a bout of rage on the part of mighty Achilles, but also a bout of rage on the part of Agamemnon, lord of men.
There's only one motive in all this conduct. We sometimes think we smell the same motive driving our own Blue tribe forward at the present time.
No one is walking like an Egyptian as a certain trial in Gotham proceeds. But are we reasoning like the Achaeans? Possibly more to the point:
Is any of this actually tied to something called "reason" at all?
Tomorrow: Sources of rage