Imagine a world where daily life was marked by the clink of a blacksmith’s hammer and the rustle of horse-drawn carts. This was the reality for much of humanity before the late 18th century. Villages relied on farming to survive and most people lived off the land with just enough to get by. The artisan’s workshop was the heart of craftsmanship where each item—whether a hand-forged iron nail or a delicately woven piece of cloth—bore the signature of personal touch and skill. Life was local, slow and connected to the rhythms of nature. Beneath this tranquil surface, though, something remarkable was brewing. Contrary to the traditional timeline, new evidence reveals that Britain was already setting the stage for industrial change long before the 18th century. By the 1600s, the landscape was changing: the number of artisans increased, and manufacturing was taking root in the British countryside. This early drive towards industrialization, marked by the growth of local weavers and metalworkers, laid the foundations of the new era that was to come. Then, in the late 18th century, a whirlwind of transformation began to sweep across Britain. This period, known as the Industrial Revolution, unfolded a drastic makeover in society that forever reshaped human life – paving the way for machinery, innovation and AI. Enter The Industrial Age The Industrial Revolution wasn’t a sudden change but rather the final stage of many smaller changes that had been happening for years. The invention of the steam engine was a breakthrough that symbolized this leap from manual labor to machine-driven efficiency. The steam engine powered factories, transforming industries and enabling mass production that increased output at an increasing rate. This was more than a new way to work; it was a new way to think, stretching the boundaries of what was possible. By the early 19th century, the Industrial Revolution was in full swing. Factories and steam engines roared to life in Britain, their clatter filling the air as machinery took over tasks once done by hand. The rise of factory production marked the beginning of a new era of industrial might. The artisan’s role, once central to production, became overshadowed by the efficiency of mechanized production. This process allowed for the mass production of goods and made products more affordable all at once. As the revolution gained momentum, its impact spread beyond Britain. Other parts of Europe and the United States began to industrialize, adopting new technologies and production methods. This led to rapid urbanization as people flocked to cities in search of work. However, this urban influx also brought newfound challenges. Cities became crowded, living conditions worsened and stark social inequalities emerged. Factories, while symbols of progress, also became sites of harsh labor conditions with long hours, low wages and dangerous environments becoming too common Rise of the Machines… and Minds Despite these challenges, the Industrial Revolution ignited a wave of movements that sought to reshape society. Labor unions emerged as a powerful force as they advocated for fair wages, safer working conditions and reasonable hours. These unions were forged from the harsh realities of factory life where long miserable hours and dangerous environments were the norm. The tireless efforts of these unions brought about significant changes, improving the lives of workers at a gradual process and setting the stage for future advancements in labor rights. Social reformers also played a crucial role during this period, shining a light on the stark inequalities that had emerged in rapid-growing urban centers. The reformers fought for better housing, sanitation and education, recognizing that industrial progress could not come at the expense of human dignity. These reformers laid the groundwork for the modern social safety nets we see today, ensuring that the march of progress was accompanied by a sense of social responsibility. As the 19th century progressed, the effects of the Industrial Revolution continued to unfold in ways that would have been seen as unimaginable to those people who had lived through it. You see, the steam engines that once powered factories eventually gave birth to an era of incredible technological advancements. Innovations that arose from the age of steam engines soon paved the way for the birth of the digital age—a new era where information flows with free range as steam once did. The principles of efficiency and mechanization that fueled the rise of factories have become the backbone of modern high-tech manufacturing. Fast forward to today in 2024: robotics, artificial intelligence and automation are the cutting-edge frontiers that continue the legacy of progress that first began with the steam engine. The story doesn’t end there, though. For as we move into 2024 and beyond, artificial intelligence stands as the next great leap in this continuum of progress. A Future With Artificial Intelligence Just as the steam engine once redefined the limits of human capability, AI is now poised to do the same. It’s not just about machines taking over manual tasks; it’s about machines thinking, learning and even evolving. The rise of AI represents more than a technological shift—it’s a philosophical one. It forces us to reconsider what it means to be human, to create and to work. As AI begins to shape industries and daily life, we’re standing at the edge of a new revolution, one where the very concept of intelligence is being redefined. The questions we face now echo those of the past: How will this technology change us? What new challenges will emerge? Most of all… how can we ensure that the progress AI brings is balanced with the ethical and social responsibilities that come with it? As we make our first step on this new epoch, let us embrace the possibilities with both curiosity and caution, striving to harness AI’s potential to enrich our lives while guiding its development tempered with wisdom and dignity. Industrial Impacts on Our Planet The Industrial Revolution changed our relationship with the environment in a drastic manner, catalyzing both significant advancements and severe side effects. Rapid industrial growth combined with
Of War & Hope: Lessons From History For Israel & Iran
Once again history repeats itself. The Middle East finds itself in the grip of a catastrophic conflict, with recent missile exchanges between Israel and Iran inflicting devastating losses. Recent missile strikes, including one targeting Israel’s Soroka Hospital in Be’er Sheva, and retaliatory airstrikes on Iran’s Arak heavy water reactor, have left devastation in their wake. These events further stress the deepening humanitarian crisis, as civilians on both sides bear the brunt of intensifying hostilities. In the face of such turmoil, the international community—led by figures such as US President Donald Trump, French President Emmanuel Macron, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer and even Russian President Vladimir Putin—strives to mediate and de-escalate the situation, though challenges abound. President Trump has taken a balanced approach, advocating for peaceful solutions through diplomacy while firmly insisting on Iran’s unconditional nuclear disarmament. President Trump’s reluctance toward direct military action highlights his preference for resolution without war, though he has signaled preparedness for decisive measures if deemed necessary. Meanwhile, Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei’s leadership frames the conflict as a defense of Iranian sovereignty and resistance against external interference. The Ayatollah’s steadfast and commanding rhetoric has aroused domestic support while shaping Iran’s approach to military and diplomatic engagements. Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu remain rigid and deep-seated in their stances, thus further complicating diplomatic efforts. Yet, amidst these modern tensions, history offers a much different narrative—one where coexistence between these lands fostered mutual respect and collaboration. This stark difference in narratives between ancient and modern times is akin to that of day and night. You see, the legacy of the Persian Empire and the ancient Israelite Kingdoms provides an important lens through which today’s leaders might glean inspirations and lessons from. Cyrus the Great: A Visionary of Tolerance Cyrus the Great, founder of the Achaemenid Empire, is remembered for his military conquests as well as his revolutionary governance. After conquering Babylon in 539 BCE, Cyrus issued a decree allowing displaced peoples, including the Jewish exiles, to return to their homelands and rebuild their temples. This policy, preserved in biblical accounts and corroborated by the Cyrus Cylinder, marked a significant departure from the practices of previous empires that often suppressed conquered cultures. For the Jewish community, Cyrus’s actions were transformative. His decree allowed for the rebuilding of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, symbolizing a restoration of spiritual and cultural identity. By providing resources and safeguarding their religious practices, Cyrus earned a place of reverence in Jewish history as a liberator and a model of enlightened leadership. His legacy reminds us that even amidst imperial ambitions, policies rooted in respect and inclusion can foster enduring goodwill. Ezra and Nehemiah: Architects of Renewal The stories of Ezra and Nehemiah unfold against the backdrop of the Persian Empire’s support for Jewish restoration. The scribe and priest Ezra played a pivotal role in re-establishing the Torah as the foundation of Jewish religious and social life. Tasked with teaching the law and fostering a sense of unity, Ezra’s leadership was crucial in reviving the spiritual heart of the Jewish people. Meanwhile, Nehemiah served as King Artaxerxes I of Persia’s cupbearer before leading a mission to rebuild Jerusalem’s walls. His determination and strategic acumen not only restored the city’s defenses but also reinvigorated its community. Together, Ezra and Nehemiah represent how visionary leadership, supported by a broader network of tolerance, can spark renewal even in the face of adversity. Mutual Benefits in the History of Israel and Iran Ezra and Nehemiah’s efforts produced significant advantages to the Persian Empire in both practice and strategy. By helping the repair of Jerusalem’s spiritual and municipal foundations, Persia secured stability in a region crucial to its vast dominion. A well-organized and peaceful Jerusalem minimized the risk of rebellion whilst also ensuring loyalty from its citizens. Plus, Jerusalem’s restored stability reinforced Persia’s dominance over vital trade routes connecting the empire’s eastern and western regions. The city’s fortified infrastructure made commerce much safer, fostering economic growth and strengthening Persia’s role as a hub of integration across diverse lands. This prosperity reflected the empire’s ability to harmonize tolerance with strategic governance, promoting broader prosperity for the empire’s melting pot of cultures. Persia’s policies of religious tolerance and support for restoration earned the empire a reputation as an enlightened ruler over its diverse populations. This approach deterred unrest while fostering cooperation, with Jewish communities expressing gratitude for Persia’s role in their renewal. The symbolic achievements of Ezra and Nehemiah illustrate Persia’s diplomatic successes even beyond practical benefits. By grounding governance in respect for local identities, Persia solidified its imperial influence while enriching relations with its subjects—a testament to the power of inclusive leadership. The Tale of Queen Esther Even the renowned legend of Queen Esther reflects the profound potential of diplomatic endurance within complex cultural environments. Her ability to navigate the intricacies of the Persian court, leveraging her influence to save her people, highlights the power of diplomacy and courage in fostering coexistence. While debated for its historical accuracy, the queen’s story still serves as an ageless reminder of building trust and advocating effectively for minority rights guided by thoughtful leadership—a principle vital for modern leaders grappling with global challenges of cultural and political complexity. Bridging the Past with the Present Today’s political leaders might draw lessons from these historical chapters. The collaborative relationship between Ancient Israelite society and Persia stands in stark contrast to the discord that we witness today. Efforts like the Abraham Accords, which sought to normalize relations between Israel and neighboring nations, reflect the enduring need for dialogue and understanding. As today’s world leaders navigate the complexities of modern diplomacy, the legacy of the relations between the Persian Empire and the Ancient Israelite Kingdoms offers a timeless reminder: peace is not just the absence of war but a deliberate act of will tempered by wisdom—a choice to prioritize humanity over hostility. Header Image: “The Fall of Babylon” by English painter John Martin depicting Cyrus the Great’s forces
A Time When Giant Monkeys Haunted Our Early Ancestors
In Earth’s grand evolutionary tale, some creatures influenced the lives of our ancestors by sharing their environments, rather than contributing to their direct lineage. On top of that, these creatures may have posed immense hazards to our primeval ancestors. Among them is Dinopithecus, the “terrible baboon.” This extinct supersized primate once roamed the landscapes of prehistoric Africa, living nearby early hominins and leaving behind traces of its existence through fossil records. A Colossus Amongst Primates Dinopithecus ingens thrived from the late Pliocene into the early Pleistocene—roughly between 2.6 and 1.5 million years ago. Its fossils, found in South African sites like Sterkfontein and Swartkrans, reveal an impressive creature. Male Dinopithecus likely weighed between 77 to 100 kilograms (170–220 lbs), standing up to 1.5 meters (5 feet) tal., making them far larger than modern baboons. Female Dinopithecus meanwhile reached about 4 feet (approx. 1.22 meters) tall and averaging at about 64 lbs (29 kg). Their robust skulls and powerful jaws suggest an omnivorous diet consisting of fruits, seeds, tubers… and occasionally other animals. While no complete skeleton has been unearthed as of June 2025, scientists have inferred much about Dinopithecus through skull fragments and isotopic analyses of its teeth, which highlight its dietary preferences and ecological adaptability. Life and Habitat Dinopithecus once thrived in mosaic habitats such as woodland savannas and river valleys—rich environments teeming with life but also dangerous inhabitants. It coexisted with other carnivores such as sabre-toothed cats and giant hyenas as well as large crocodiles, all of which could have been a significant threat despite the baboon’s extra large size. Similar to modern baboons, Dinopithecus may have lived in large groups, relying on vigilance and cooperation for survival. However, direct evidence of its social structure remains unknown as of June 2025. Interactions with Early Hominins It is known that Dinopithecus shared a prehistoric environment with early hominins such as Australopithecus and Paranthropus. Fossils from both groups have been found in close proximity, indicating overlapping ecological niches. While Dinopithecus may have competed with hominins for resources like shelter and food, claims of predatory behavior still remain speculative and unsupported by fossil evidence as of June 2025. Modern baboons, however, are known to be opportunistic hunters and would prey on antelope and even other primates when given a chance. Under duress or food scarcity, what’s to stop a prehistoric ginormous baboon from exhibiting similar behaviors? Furthermore, the babies or the injured of our ancestors would be easy pickings for a starving Dinopithecus. As a result, present-day baboons provide useful comparisons for understanding the prehistoric African landscape and primate behavior. In addition, the colossal baboon’s formidable presence may reflect evolutionary pressures influencing both hominins and other primates. Lessons from Evolution Dinopithecus was not an ancestor of Homo but shared traits that highlight survival strategies common to many primates. Its dietary flexibility, predator awareness, and physical prowess exemplify adaptations to changing ecosystems. Its extinction likely resulted from competition with smaller, more adaptable primates. This reinforces a recurring theme in evolution: adaptability often outweighs sheer strength in determining survival. Final Reflections Dinopithecus was an incredible primate—a towering beast of its time period. While it left no living descendants, its fossils continue to shed light on prehistoric ecosystems and the challenges faced by early humans. The story of this prehistoric mega baboon remains a powerful reminder of nature’s balance, where survival is dictated not only by power, but by the ability to adapt. Header Image: Mouth of a mandrill – the modern world’s largest monkey. By Belgianchocolate. Source: CC BY 4.0
Pope Leo XIV’s Coat of Arms: Emblems of Faith and Unity
Pope Leo XIV’s coat of arms and motto were revealed by the Vatican this May 2025, as is customary in heraldry for Popes to signal their main interests. According to Leo, all three order symbols, the fleur-de-lis, the pierced heart and the motto In Illo Uno Unum, are rooted in the life of St. Augustine, a fourth-century Italian theologian and bishop. Based on what an art historian might say, these choices highlight humility, unity and devotion which both represent the pope’s Augustinian background and explain what he hoped for in the Church. How do objects and places from history and theology underline the Pope’s challenge in today’s environment? The Heraldic Shield The diagonally divided coat of arms of Pope Leo XIV is full of both symbolic and balanced elements. In the upper half, you’ll see the Virgin Mary’s purity represented with a silver fleur-de-lis on a blue field. The three petals of the fleur-de-lis, like the Holy Trinity, were discussed at length by St. Augustine in On the Trinity. Fr. Pompili of the Italian Heraldic-Genealogical Institute explains that the Marian symbol is a proof of Leo’s strong commitment to his faith. In the lower area, the emblem of the Order of St. Augustine is displayed: a red heart on fire, hurt by an arrow and sitting on a closed book. It is inspired by Saint Augustine, who wrote in his Confessions that God’s Word had pierced his heart. The Bible, the basis of Augustine’s change, features on the cover, with the heart showing his strong love for Christ and others. Rafael Nieto, an Augustinian Recollect, states that a heart like this is a proof of humility and celebration of God’s grace. At the top of the shield, the keys are crossed to suggest papal powers, with a gold key and a silver one and a plain mitre replaces the traditional tiara, another point about humility. Some people researching heraldry online have mentioned that this symbol’s lower field could be ivory or argent, as its use receives international attention. Call to Unity To these words, In Illo Uno Unum or “In the One, we are one,” St. Augustine refers to his Exposition on Psalm 127. It illustrates his view that the Church, amid its variety, is united as one in Christ. In Augustine’s words, “We are many, but we are one through Christ, the principle behind what Pope Leo XIV aims to achieve. He pointed out in a Vatican News interview in 2023 that unity is a main Augustinian value, saying, “Being part of the community guides my mission and my expectations for the Church.” Chosen by peers on May 8, 2025, Leo was named the 267th pope and wishes to unite the world despite its disagreements. The saying also reveals Augustine’s humility, as we can see from a Holy Legend (1483). When puzzled by the Trinity, Augustine came across a child trying to put the sea into a tiny container. When asked about his behavior, the child said it wasn’t more pointless than Augustine’s quest to grasp the infinite. The artist Michael Pacher’s altarpiece from 1482 and Leo’s first Mass both show how human understanding has its borders—something Leo called attention to with his remark that being pope was both a burden and a source of joy. Augustine in Art For 34 years as bishop of Hippo, St. Augustine greatly influenced both theology and the arts. His contributions, for example The Confessions and The City of God, influenced the thinking of the medieval and Renaissance ages. Many artists depicted Augustine with a pierced heart, as in a stained-glass window made by Tobias Müller in 1622 which while showing Augustine talking to a child, represents his humility. Painted in 1480 by Sandro Botticelli, Augustine is pictured working in a study filled with literature, rather than wearing his bishop’s hat. Underlying the current concept is a geocentric model that has now been replaced but still outlines the limitations of leading thinkers. Pope Leo XIV is known for operating within the same tradition of community learning. He has previously taught canon law and early Christian theology at San Carlos y San Marcelo in Peru, giving his ministry an air of academic competence. Since his Augustinian background springs from a rule founded in 1244—‘Let everything be owned by all’—this explains why he stresses the importance of community in faith and service. His symbol and motto, chosen by Pope Leo XIV, help guide him in his leadership. Benefiting from his past role as a missionary and bishop in Chiclayo, Peru, he now helps the Church by encouraging unity and outreach. At the time of his election, he made it clear that he wanted the Church to “pursue peace and justice together.” The fleur-de-lis and pierced heart mean that Louis appreciated both the Virgin Mary and the Catholic movement, while his motto encouraged unity during a difficult time. Because social inequality, division among cultures and technology are current issues, Leo’s Augustinian perspective continues to be relevant. Do you think, like Augustine’s open heart, the Church is ready to be affected by God and its community? While scholars learn from his papal legacy and Peruvians fete their one-time bishop, Leo XIV’s images prompt us to be faithful, humble and united.
Pregnant Warriors: The Power of Viking Women
Pregnant women wielding swords and wearing martial helmets, foetuses set to avenge their fathers – and a harsh world where not all newborns were born free or given burial. These are some of the realities uncovered by the first interdisciplinary study to focus on pregnancy in the Viking age, authored by myself, Kate Olley, Brad Marshall and Emma Tollefsen as part of the Body-Politics project. Despite its central role in human history, pregnancy has often been overlooked in archaeology, largely because it leaves little material trace. Pregnancy has perhaps been particularly overlooked in periods we mostly associate with warriors, kings and battles – such as the highly romanticised Viking age (the period from AD800 until AD1050). Topics such as pregnancy and childbirth have conventionally been seen as “women’s issues”, belonging to the “natural” or “private” spheres – yet we argue that questions such as “when does life begin?” are not at all natural or private, but of significant political concern, today as in the past. In our new study, my co-authors and I puzzle together eclectic strands of evidence in order to understand how pregnancy and the pregnant body were conceptualised at this time. By exploring such “womb politics”, it is possible to add significantly to our knowledge on gender, bodies and sexual politics in the Viking age and beyond. First, we examined words and stories depicting pregnancy in Old Norse sources. Despite dating to the centuries after the Viking age, sagas and legal texts provide words and stories about childbearing that the Vikings’ immediate descendants used and circulated. We learned that pregnancy could be described as “bellyful”, “unlight” and “not whole”. And we gleaned an insight into the possible belief in personhood of a foetus: “A woman walking not alone.” An episode in one of the sagas we looked at supports the idea that unborn children (at least high-status ones) could already be inscribed into complex systems of kinship, allies, feuds and obligations. It tells the story of a tense confrontation between the pregnant Guðrún Ósvífrsdóttir, a protagonist in the Saga of the People of Laxardal and her husband’s killer, Helgi Harðbeinsson. As a provocation, Helgi wipes his bloody spear on Guđrun’s clothes and over her belly. He declares: “I think that under the corner of that shawl dwells my own death.” Helgi’s prediction comes true, and the foetus grows up to avenge his father. Another episode, from the Saga of Erik the Red, focuses more on the agency of the mother. The heavily pregnant Freydís Eiríksdóttir is caught up in an attack by the skrælings, the Norse name for the indigenous populations of Greenland and Canada. When she cannot escape due to her pregnancy, Freydís picks up a sword, bares her breast and strikes the sword against it, scaring the assailants away. While sometimes regarded as an obscure literary episode in scholarship, this story may find a parallel in the second set of evidence we examined for the study: a figurine of a pregnant woman. This pendant, found in a tenth-century woman’s burial in Aska, Sweden, is the only known convincing depiction of pregnancy from the Viking age. It depicts a figure in female dress with the arms embracing an accentuated belly — perhaps signalling connection with the coming child. What makes this figurine especially interesting is that the pregnant woman is wearing a martial helmet. Taken together, these strands of evidence show that pregnant women could, at least in art and stories, be engaged with violence and weapons. These were not passive bodies. Together with recent studies of Viking women buried as warriors, this provokes further thought to how we envisage gender roles in the oft-perceived hyper-masculine Viking societies. Missing children and pregnancy as a defect A final strand of investigation was to look for evidence for obstetric deaths in the Viking burial record. Maternal-infant death rates are thought to be very high in most pre-industrial societies. Yet, we found that among thousands of Viking graves, only 14 possible mother-infant burials are reported. Consequently, we suggest that pregnant women who died weren’t routinely buried with their unborn child and may not have been commemorated as one, symbiotic unity by Viking societies. In fact, we also found newborns buried with adult men and postmenopausal women, assemblages which may be family graves, but they may also be something else altogether. We cannot exclude that infants – underrepresented in the burial record more generally – were disposed of in death elsewhere. When they are found in graves with other bodies, it’s possible they were included as a “grave good” (objects buried with a deceased person) for other people in the grave. This is a stark reminder that pregnancy and infancy can be vulnerable states of transition. A final piece of evidence speaks to this point like no other. For some, like Guđrun’s little boy, gestation and birth represented a multi-staged process towards becoming a free social person. For people lower on the social rung, however, this may have looked very different. One of the legal texts we examined dryly informs us that when enslaved women were put up for sale, pregnancy was regarded as a defect of their bodies. Pregnancy was deeply political and far from uniform in meaning for Viking-age communities. It shaped – and was shaped by – ideas of social status, kinship and personhood. Our study shows that pregnancy was not invisible or private, but crucial to how Viking societies understood life, social identities and power. This edited article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
The Crusades: Four Hundred Years of War (Part One)
The Crusades are perhaps the defining idea of medieval Europe. Over more than four centuries they redefined its history, set it on a new course with a common, foreign enemy against whom the Christian countries could find common cause. They changed Europe forever. Countries rose and fell in the shadow of these religious wars, Christian and Islamic alike. They bonded the Christian countries together but they also destroyed much of the old world of both the Near East and Europe, fanaticism and opportunism o both sides uniting to change the world into something new. Those who took the cross and journeyed eastwards did so for many reasons. Some were devout, some bellicose, some found their hand forced against their will. The flower of chivalric Europe and the very dregs of society made the pilgrimage together to find something new for themselves in a world newly invented, far from home. But the story of the Crusades is not the story of their origin. It is fair to say that, as an idea, they gained a momentum far beyond the vision of those who first came up with the concept. Along the way atrocities were committed in their name, genocides in the name of religion, and the greatest empire in European history was swept aside and lost. The outflow of people from the countries of western Europe led to great changes back home, and those who returned were changed by the world they had found, in turn changing their homes. A new Europe arose from the old and it was the Crusades, as much as anything, which incited this change from the old ways to the new. Depending on how you count them there were at least six, and perhaps as many as ten crusades. We can be sure when they started, almost to the day: it was in November 1095 that the first musterings were ordered, legitimized by new Papal doctrine allied to Christian necessity in the face of Islamic successes in the Near East and Anatolia. For centuries from this point, much of the wealth and power of Europe was devoted to this undertaking, an outpouring which changed the social order. Commoners could become barons, younger sons could inherit ancestral estates. Everything, at home and abroad, was up for grabs. Not bad for a tale which starts with a Pope with a bright idea and a couple of kings in search of good causes. But the real problems started not at the beginning of the First Crusade, but at the end. Nobody really expected the outcome, and nobody was really prepared for what came next. Header Image: Combat between mounted Christian Knights and the Islamic Seljuks in the Second Crusade. Source: Unknown Author / Public Domain.
The Julio Claudian Dynasty: First Caesars of Rome (Part Two)
It is the 24th of January, AD 41. The 28-year-old Emperor of the Roman Empire, a favorite mascot of the army who had ascended unchallenged to the throne only four years earlier has just been stabbed to death in the tunnels under his own palace, by his own guards. In the century leading up to his death four men, all from the same family, tried to hold absolute power in Rome. Two of them led long and peaceful lives atop a peaceful and prosperous civilization. The other two, Julius Caesar and now Caligula, were murdered in broad daylight at the very heart of their empire. Their crime? They wanted too much. When looking for differences between Caligula and his two predecessors Augustus and Tiberias, one could simply conclude that the youthful Caligula was too wild, his vices too demonic to rule, and that he may indeed have been mad, as legions of commentators would say. But there is something subtler under the surface, something which speaks of the position that Rome found herself in with his death. Caligula was not unusual because he wielded absolute power. His predecessors held the same imperium he did, ruling for decades without serious risk to their position. But Caligula did something else: in his omnipotence he ignored the niceties of his court. The Senate was still a very real thing during his reign. And while Caligula was technically right in his position that he could do what he wanted without their position, he was foolish to mock these powerful and ambitious men in this way. In this misjudgment lay his downfall. Rome was learning, in real time, about the difficulties of (semi) hereditary rule. With one man in charge the fortunes of an empire hung on his decisions, and while this resulted in quick decision making and agile policy, it very much depended on that one man. The corridors of power in Rome had been seriously shaken by that realization. The priority had been to murder Caligula and his immediate family, but once these were accomplished it needed to be decided as to what to do next. The possibility of Rome returning to a Republic was the popular choice. Forget these emperors, they were originally supposed to deal with a time of crisis and there was no crisis now, excepting those the emperors caused. However, this was destroyed by the ambition of the Senate. In killing Caesar his guards had created a dozen hopefuls who could see themselves holding absolute power. The Senate wanted to appear united in its condemnation of Caligula, but in reality they were divided individuals, self-interested, mistrustful, and unwilling to work together. They also had to contend with a citizenry who were shocked by what was essentially regicide. The lead conspirator, Cassius Chaerea, had followed up the murder of his Emperor with the killing of Caligula’s wife and one-year-old daughter, a campaign of brutality which alarmed the people of Rome. But Cassius had missed one member of Caligula’s family: his uncle Claudius. In the carnage following the assassination Claudius had fled to hide in the palace, witnessing the Emperor’s guards run rampant and murder several uninvolved noblemen. He was certain he would be next. Header Image: Nero and Poppaea have the head of Octavia brought to them. Source: Bardazzi/Museo Civico di Modena / CC BY-SA 3.0.
The Roots of Carnival? New Finds Suggest Seasonal Parties in Pre-Columbian Brazil
Brazil is famous for its Carnival season, an almost week-long party which unifies the country in a spirit of feasting, drinking, and of course dancing. This is traditionally held just before Lent, but a new study suggests it may have existed long before Christianity came to South America. The research, announced by the University of York, reveals that the pre-colonial peoples in Brazil may have herd similar communal parties in the summer. They gathered to feast on migratory fish that were briefly in abundance in their seas, and shared alcoholic drinks. The evidence for these parties comes from the shores of the Patos Lagoon in Brazil. Dotted around the shorelines here are earthen mounds known as “Cerritos” made by the prehistoric ancestors of the Charrua and Minuano, indigenous groups of the Pampean people who still live here. It has long been theorized that these pre-Columbian peoples would have gathered around these Cerritos to celebrate in this fashion. The mounds were important as tombs, monuments and gathering places, and we already know from earlier studies that people would travel from diverse locations to visit this place, at certain times of the year. Now the new study has confirmed what they were doing here. Pottery fragments containing residue shows they were using corn, tubers and palm to make alcohol. This is among the earlier evidence we have for alcohol production in the region. Elsewhere the pottery was used in the handling and processing of fish. The species found here, such as the Whitemouth Croaker, are migratory and would have been abundant for one brief period during the year, and this abundance of a food source may have prompted the festival. The relationship between the peoples who gathered here and the original builders of the mounds is uncertain. It is possible that these unusual structures were what made the location special, without understanding their original purpose. But, in knowing that the peoples from the surrounding regions would travel great distances to feast on the fish, drink their corn drink and party with one another, who can certainly see the origins of the Brazilian Carnival. Header Image: The modern-day Carnival in Rio de Janeiro, which may have Pre-Columbian roots. Source: Jeffrey Dunn / CC BY-SA 2.0.
The SS Bessemer: the Worst Idea in Nautical History?
This is a story about an inventor and his invention. It is the story of striving to create something new and innovation in problem solving. It is also, perhaps more than anything, a story of failure. It is the story of a brilliant man trying to solve a longstanding problem. It is the story of how in solving that problem, he created others. And it is a story of a little knowledge being a dangerous thing. The man, Sir Henry Bessemer, was undoubtedly a talented inventor. Born two years before the Battle of Waterloo, and dying two years before the end of the 19th century, this Victorian gentleman is most remembered for his steel-making process which became the most significant way to manufacture steel for a hundred years. The process made his fortune, and his reputation, and earned him his knighthood. He also played a major role in establishing Sheffield as a major producer of steel and center for industry; without him Sheffield may never have come to be known as England’s “steel city.” But Sir Henry was that most Victorian of oddities, a gentleman amateur, and his dabblings into multiple fields of expertise were not all so successful. It may be for his steel that he is remembered, but it is for his ideas about ships that he has become infamous. This is not the story of his successes, his contributions to the Second Industrial Revolution which saw Britain emerge as a global leader in the 19th century. This is the story of the SS Bessemer, among the most ill-fated of ships to ever have set sail. A Genius in His Field To be fair to Sir Henry, he was a brilliant man. The son of a Huguenot and another inventor who was forced to flee France after the Revolution of 1789, he was born in Hertfordshire in 1813 into a moderately successful family, and had to make his name on his own merits. Sir Henry made his first fortune designing and manufacturing steam powered machines which produced bronze dust, a key component in gold paint. The secret manufacturing process proved difficult for others to reproduce, and he became a major supplier. His steel making process, at once good quality and cheap, addressed a pressing bottleneck in British industry. It led to iron being replaced with stronger and stiffer steel, improving at a stroke Britain’s entire industrial base. But Sir Henry’s move to the seas and his creation of the SS Bessemer was designed to address a more personal problem. Sir Henry suffered from extreme seasickness, and it was this that led him to investigate whether a solution could be found. His solution seems at first to be brilliant. The SS Bessemer was to be a paddle steamer which would contain a central cabin mounted on gimbals and designed to stay level no matter the outward orientation of the ship. The ship would roll with the waves, but the passengers within would always stay perfectly upright. It was not an automatic feature, and required constant crewing to work. A member of the crew was tasked with watching a spirit level at his station, and manipulating a complex system of hydraulics to adjust the orientation of the cabin in real time. Sir Henry built a successful test version at his home in Denmark Hill, London, and received a patent for the design in 1869, His idea was to use the SS Bessemer as a cross channel ferry, linking England and France and providing a solution to comfortable travel to continental Europe. He attracted a significant amount of investment to the project, some £250,000 then and the equivalent of more than £25 million ($31 million) today. He set up a limited joint stock company to continue to attract investment and envisaged running a fleet of these innovative ships, opening the door to France and the world beyond. There was however a tiny problem with the idea, and that problem was the SS Bessemer herself. Put simply, the central stable cabin radically reduced the ship’s seaworthiness and the ship herself proved to be a nightmare to operate. By the time she arrived at Calais for her first trials she had already crashed into the shoreline at Hull, thankfully emerging without damage. However as she tried to enter Calais harbor she proved impossible to steer at slow speeds, and crashed into the pier. The gimballed passenger cabin within did not roll with the ship, of course, and the momentum of this caused the SS Bessemer to lurch wildly from side to side in anything but a flat calm. But the mere inclusion of the cabin was enough to compromise her entire design, and even with the gimbals locked in place she displayed horrible sailing characteristics. After the damage to the ship and the pier were repaired the SS Bessemer again tried to enter Calais harbor. She promptly crashed into the same pier and caused much more extensive damage. Part of the pier was entirely demolished by the impact. It was clear that the idea, and the ship, were cursed, and investors lost confidence in a vessel which only seemed good for slowly dismantling the seafront at Calais. She would never sail with the gimbals operating, and after a further accident she had her seaworthiness license revoked, and the innovative cabin removed entirely. The hull was docked in Dover where she remained, slowly degrading and rusting until she was sold for scrap in 1879. The cabin however had a very different end: claimed by the ship’s chief designer Edward James Reed, it was installed at his home, Hextable House in Swanley, where it was used as a billiards room. The house went on to become a women’s horticultural college and the cabin became a lecture hall, until the college was bombed by the Luftwaffe in World War Two. The cabin was destroyed. Today only three decorative panels survive from the SS Bessemer, recovered from the ruins of the cabin after the bombing. Nothing
Good Men Do Nothing: How Hitler Conquered Germany
From the perspective of history, there is a danger that Hitler is seen as an inevitability. Far more interesting to focus on the Nazi excesses once they were in power (more lurid), the Second World War they directly caused (more exciting) and their dramatic downfall (more… dramatic) than to ask how they rose in the first place. If pushed, most people who know something about the era will point vaguely to it being the fault of the French and their draconian reparation demands after the First World War, and add something about the interwar Weimar Republic in Germany being “weak” in some fashion. Something something hyperinflation, or words to that effect. This is not to say that these are not contributory causes, and indeed they are part of the story. So too were the central figures of the Nazi party, at their heart a man who spent the entire interwar period as something between a revolutionary, a provocateur and a hooligan. Hitler pushed the authorities so far in his disruptive antics that spent time in prison for his actions. But his decade of demagoguery and rabble rousing paid off, and his rise, when it came, was shockingly fast and so sudden as to be almost unexpected. As late as the middle of 1932 the Republic still existed as a democracy, but in just a few months it was replaced by a fascist dictatorship. How did the Weimar Republic give way to autocracy? How did Hitler, a petty and an unpleasant man, place himself and his Nazi thugs at the heart of the new reality? And can any lessons be learned from this history, to ensure such a thing is never allowed to happen again? A Free and Fair Election By the time of the 1932 Federal Elections in Germany, the country found itself at the bottom of an economic pit three years in the making. The Great Depression had tripled unemployment to almost 30%: almost six million people were unemployed and industrial production had halved. Through the mid and late 1920s Germany had been governed by a “grand coalition” of pro-republican parties, but in 1930 this alliance collapsed. By 1932 the three years of economic disaster were married to two years of fragmented politicking, with multiple fringe parties gaining traction and no consensus on how to run the country. Chief among these parties was the NSDAP, the Nazi party, who had gained 95 seats in the 1930 election and cast themselves as visionaries for a better, stronger Germany. At this time the Nazis were also unencumbered by the baggage that comes from actual government: they were untested, but that also meant they were unsullied with failure. But the first election the Nazis tried to win in 1932 was not the federal one. In March there were Presidential elections in Germany, and when Hitler ran for President he was beaten, narrowly, by a pro-democracy coalition which had gathered around the ancient but venerable war hero Paul von Hindenburg. This election set the stage for what came later. The Nazi party, as is common with such fascist undertakings, was a cult of personality as much as a party of policy, and when the Presidential elections characterized Hitler as the obvious alternative as a leader to the establishment it also brought his Nazis to the fore. And the Nazis were certainly on the rise. Membership had grown five time in two years to a million and a half people, and the party also operated a slick propaganda machine, controlling some 125 newspapers by 1932. The coalition in power seemed unable to reach on consensus on nearly anything, which allowed the Nazis to style them as weak and divided, which was entirely fair. An election was not even due in 1932, but came about because of the collapse of the ruling coalition once again. But with these elections the Nazis, still, fell short. They won a huge number of seats and became the largest party in the German Parliament, but they lacked an overall majority. They could prevent a coalition of moderates from governing, but they could not themselves rule. The Chancellor and leader of Parliament, Franz von Papen, would have to form a government that included the Nazis for the first time, and Hitler’s price for his support was telling. In return for Papen remaining Chancellor, Hitler’s personal brownshirted militia known as the Sturmabteilung, the stormtroopers, would be made legal. This government however did not even last the year. An overwhelming no-confidence vote in the coalition formed by Papen swept the government away and led to elections being held, again, in November 1932. The Nazis lost ground slightly in these elections, and it seemed that something had to be done before their star faded forever. By a stroke of chance so lucky as to seem suspicious, the Nazis got exactly what they were looking for. In February 1933, the Reichstag building, seat of the German government, was burned down, apparently by a Durch communist. The true story of what happened may never be fully known, but this atrocity allowed the Nazis to sweep in with their (now legal) private army and arrest large swatches of their political opponents. Hitler had been appointed Chancellor, replacing Papen, in January 1933. The conservatives still held many posts in the cabinet and believed they could “tame” Hitler into ruling by consensus, and maybe they were even right at the time. But the Reichstag Fire changed that. The elections which were held in March 1933 were subject to extreme voter intimidation from the Sturmabteilung, who were pretending to monitor the voting but were actually ensuring its outcome. A united Germany would not have free elections again until 1990. And yet again, even with a vice-like control over everything from the top job to the vote counting, the Nazis failed to claim a majority. Hitler required the vote of the cooperative Center Party to receive temporary, emergency powers as Chancellor which allowed him to act as he saw
Right Man, Right Place, Right Time: The Rise of Napoleon
In 1799 France changed forever. After a decade of rumbling discontent regarding the concentration of wealth towards the powerful and the exploitation of the masses who were facing widespread starvation, the French rose up and killed everyone in charge, from the King on down. The failure of the ancien regime, the creaking feudal order of things in France, to address this economic crisis led to a new way of thinking, not just for France but for the world. Many of the fundamental principals of modern liberal democracy came out of this seismic upheaval and metamorphosis of one of the most powerful countries in Europe. This was also a time of bloody violence and widespread paranoia: not for nothing is the period where the French people sought to rule themselves for the first time in history known as “The Terror.” Noble families were butchered, royalists hunted down and executed. Amidst the chaos there was very little that even the new government could agree on. The enormous power vacuum left by the death of a king and his court attracted quite as many chancers and opportunists as it did good men looking to build a better world, and nobody who tried to govern in this almost-lawless time escaped without bloody hands. But there was unity, of a sort, in the French Consulate. The new order would be one for the people, ruled by merit not by birthright, and in this new democracy one thing was clear: there would never again be a king. So how is it then that, only 15 years later, France crowned a new ruler: not just a king but an emperor? Who could have charted a course so true in these turbulent times that he could win the backing of the people who had just destroyed such a regime? This was Napoleon, and the story of how he rose to the top of this chaotic French furball is one of bravado, and of sheer talent. It is also one of duplicity, of disobedience and of sheer luck. How did France’s “little corporal,” an Italian Corsican, become Emperor of the French? A Bloody Meritocracy It certainly helped that Napoleon picked the right side, and the timing could not have been better for him. He had been commissioned as an artillery lieutenant in the Royal French Army in 1785, only four years before the Revolution: long enough to establish himself, but brief enough to escape associations with the traditional royalist elements of the army. He was also an active and prominent supporter of the Revolution, an understandable thing. For a man of talent but low birth to be suddenly offered a world where he could shine presented a golden opportunity, and Napoleon was never a man to miss an opportunity. Napoleon threw himself into the cause of the Revolution in his native Corsica, a brave thing to do given the complex politics of the island. There were many who wanted Corsican independence in the wake of the fall of the French regime, and Napoleon’s father was declared a traitor for failing to support them. Was Napoleon a good soldier? He was a brilliant strategist and his battlefield tactics were unsurpassed, in a large part because this artillery lieutenant understand that artillery were the future, and could shape and direct the course of a battle to devastating effect. But he was also disobedient, opportunist, and very much on the make. It was a peculiarity of his service in the army that he was never punished for his transgressions. He disobeyed orders in staying too long in Corsica commanding a troop of auxiliary volunteers, but instead of censure and a court martial this earned him a promotion to captain in 1792. Finally returning to France and his duties after an embarrassing failure to take Corsica’s neighbor, the island of Sardinia, a year after advancing to captain Napoleon was promoted to overall artillery commander of the Republican forces by the French government, known as the Directory. This meteoric jump came about aided by his Corsican support and the disarray in France at the time. Napoleon was again lucky with his new job, which saw him in convoy passing the French port of Toulon at a crucial moment. He was charged with capturing the city from the occupying British and French royalists, so he captured a hill fort overlooking the city and its harbor and positioned his artillery so they could attack with impunity. Toulon fell to Napoleon after several months, and he was made a general for his troubles. He had also caught the attention of the top men in the government. Given command of the artillery of the Army of Italy, he now had a purpose, and the momentum to carry him to power. The French authorities seemed not to concern themselves with Napoleon’s rise or the increasing cult of personality which surrounded him, so long as he kept winning. He swept through Italy with a series of stunning victories, returning to Paris in 1797 as a populist hero. His next expedition was to Egypt, where he soon controlled much of the Nile Delta. However Napoleon was unable to hold this territory, and once the British had destroyed his fleet at the Battle of the Nile he found himself trapped and facing ruin. However this somehow turned out to be to his advantage. In his absence France had suffered a series of costly setbacks and was facing invasion with empty coffers, something for which Napoleon could clearly not take any blame. This allowed him to return, as he did in 1799 without orders to do so, as the savior of France. This made Napoleon the figure around which public support coalesced. He was winning when everyone else was losing, he was strong when the new French government was weak. His success put him beyond punishment: his desertion in Corsica, his failure in Egypt and his repeated disobeying of orders were discussed by the Directory but no action was taken. In fact
Dracula, Stoker’s Vision and the Path to the Modern Vampire
When Dracula was published in 1897 it was an instant success, but one built on an old legend. The strange gothic count of the novel may have been new, but the legend on which Bram Stoker built his story was decidedly not. Vampires had been around for hundreds of years, one of the motley assortment of undead creatures which haunted the fringes of European society. These predators were to be feared but they had existed in legend for long enough to be familiar, if only rumoured. Vampires in fact are so ancient that history does not record their definitive origin. The origin of the word would seem to be easily traced to the Serbian vampir but for the fact that this is an 18th century word and more accurately a specific label for a creature already known, rather than its origin. The fact is “vampire” or something like it is a word which has long existed in pretty much every Slavic and Turkic language. Go back far enough with these words and their meaning starts to dovetail with other malevolent creatures in human form: the Turkish word uber for example, which has been suggested as an origin, means “witch.” Perhaps the most specific of these source words is the Albanian dhampir and its meaning is very telling. The word dham in the Gheg dialect of Albanian means “tooth” and pir means “to drink” and together these provide us with a clear and on-the-nose solution: vampires bite and drink blood, everyone knows that. Except not everyone knows that. There is a metamorphosis which has occurred between the ancient vampires of medieval folklore and Eastern European legends on the one hand, and our modern vision of vampires on the other. And Bram Stoker, with his Count Dracula, sits right on the crux of that transformation. Binding the Old into Something New Bram Stoker was well aware of the legends of vampires and was sure to embed his character in these tales. Indeed, much of what we see Dracula do during the novel is down to the peculiarities of his existence as a vampire, as well as the limitations imposed by his curse. Dracula has command of the beasts that haunt the forests that surround him, lesser creatures such as wolves. This power proves extremely useful when Dracula transplants himself to Victorian London, where he is able to control the rats and bats that infest the city. So too we see that he has the vampire’s power of shapeshifting, able to assume the form of these creatures. Dracula appears as a large bat several times (or possibly his flying form is mistaken for one, the novel being filled with such vagueness around details) and even a mist. Stoker sprinkles other associated myths into his narrative which are drawn from related folktales. When driving his visitor and intended victim Jonathan Harker to his castle he spots the coach to go hunting for hidden treasure, illuminated by rings of blue fire. An odd interlude, but one which Stoker included to adhere to the existing Slavic legend. Such things we know about vampires, as creatures of pop culture. But other things from the novel and from Stoker’s own commentary show that he had different ideas for the character. The most obvious is that Dracula does not have a mortal fear of daylight. He may move freely during the day but he is robbed of his supernatural powers: he cannot transform, he cannot disappear, he has none of his enormous strength. Stoker also made a very telling comment about his count which most today would find surprising: when asked as to Dracula’s weight he replied that it would not be more than a few ounces or grams. This vampire is not an undead body, but a ghost. Modern vampires are not ghosts, but if you delve far back enough into the folklore you find that the lines become blurry. Dracula was Stoker’s attempt to bridge the two worlds and write a modern vampire story while still remaining respectful to the roots of the legend. Looking at the novel, there is indeed no reason for Dracula to not be a ghost. He is able to dissolve into nothingness, he can transform into forms capable of flight, he is shown many times to be possessed of formidable strength, but he is never manhandled himself. What then did Stoker create in his novel, what was it about Dracula which thrilled a generation of readers anew. Simply put, his creation was not just to be a vampire but a noble vampire, not just in far-off foreign climes but at the heart of the British Empire. Dracula is dangerous not simply for his murderous habits because he is a threat to society, an imposter gentleman who is possessed of impeccable credentials but who does not behave as one in his station should. He is an aristocrat but he is also a monster, one of a clutch of fin-de-siecle characters (along with Jekyll and Hyde for example, or the Phantom of the Opera) who explored this uncomfortable juxtaposition. Our modern vampire, as a hypnotic and high born predator, comes from Stoker. His genius was to take this shambling monster from the fringes of society and turn him into someone who had everything. Dracula, unlike earlier vampires, is not a monster due to desperation. He is a monster because he chooses to be one. True, there were aristocratic vampires before Stoker, in fact for almost a century such a creature had been roaming the pages of fiction. The genesis of this character is probably with John Polidori and his “Vampyre” based on, and intended to flatter, Lord Byron. Similar such creatures followed, but it is with Dracula that the very folklore is changed, and vampires are cemented as nobleman, foreign (and “alien” in other ways) and degenerate by choice rather than necessity. Beyond his mere vampirism, Stoker went out of his way to make the character unsettling within this particular narrative theme. Dracula