The Minoan Controversy: Military or not?

We know a lot about the ancient Minoans: their religion, their daily lives, their trades, even their cooking. But one subject remains a source of controversy in spite of it all: whether or not the Minoans were a militarized culture.

My purpose today is not to argue one way or another (though I do have an opinion). My purpose is to examine why so many people feel compelled to try to prove that the Minoans were a militaristic society. I think this issue says at least as much about us as it does about the people of ancient Crete.

This issue is related to the need many people have to prove that the Minoans had a monarchy instead of being ruled by councils or collectives of leaders. Sir Arthur Evans, the Victorian-era archaeologist who first unearthed the Minoan city of Knossos and revealed it to the modern world, was just sure that the Minoans had a king who ruled over them, just as his beloved British Empire had a monarch. Otherwise, he reasoned, how could they possibly have become such an advanced civilization? So he named the parts of the Knossos temple complex with terms like Throne Room and Queen’s Megaron. Those names have stuck even though we’ve figured out since Evans’ time that the huge building was an administrative and religious temple complex and not some monarch’s palace. But Evans couldn’t envision a world in which successful cultures arose with cooperative or even oligarchic structures instead of monarchies. And many modern people can’t envision a thriving civilization that doesn’t have a military and a desire for conquest.

When modern people look at ancient Crete, they see a successful society: wealthy, vibrant, worldly. And it makes many people profoundly uncomfortable to think that a culture like that could flourish without a military, without the thirst for blood and conquest. After all, in the millennia since the Minoan cities fell, human culture has been all about armies and conquest, generals and battles and taking what you want. Why should the Minoans be any different?

The thing is, if ancient Crete was different, if the Minoans managed to create their incredible civilization without a military, or with nothing more than a simple merchant marine to protect their trading ships, that means it’s possible to be successful without being a militarized dominator society. That means that militarization, institutionalized violence, and domination are choices, not inevitabilities. And that makes us accountable for the misery, hardship, and atrocities we’ve perpetrated in our own militarized societies.

This is why, every few years, someone comes out with a paper purporting to show that the Minoans had a military and were a warrior culture: We need to justify our own horrors. We need to show that we can’t help it, that wanting to dominate and take and kill is an ingrained part of the human condition and not a choice. We’re mirroring our own shadows in the history we’re trying to write.

Ancient Crete was no utopia, but it was an egalitarian society with a deep sense of the sacred. Instead of trying to make excuses for our own horrible behavior, how about we look to ancient Crete for ways we can do better instead?

Dogma

Generally I take a very relaxed attitude to how people define their own Druidry. I don’t like dogma, and I don’t like being prescriptive. But there are things I consider totally non-negotiable. I thought it would be interesting to try and pin those down.

Here are the things I consider core to my Druidry and not at all open to discussion. There’s not much in here that is specifically religious, I realise, nothing at all pertaining to deity. Without further ado, the ten dogmatic statements of Bryn are as follows…

1) Without honour, a person has nothing.

2) The world is full of wonder, magic and beauty. It is our duty to seek and appreciate it, to encourage, protect and nurture it.

3) There is no freedom without responsibility.

4) All life is sacred. Everything has value and worth and our defaults should be care and respect.

5) It is what we do, that defines who we are, not what we think.

6) We have a duty to ourselves to be the best that we can be, by whatever terms we define that.

7) We have the right to seek our own happiness, wellbeing and fulfilment, balanced by a duty to act with care and respect where others are concerned.

8) No one has the monopoly on wisdom, and truth quite often depends on where you happen to be looking at it from. But not always.

9) There are no rules or guidelines that can actually tell us how to live well. We have to figure it out for ourselves, moment to moment.

10) Everything matters. Everything deserves taking seriously. Whatever we believe, we should live this life as though it is the only one we have. 

(I have just realised that there is no do or do not in the above, only try. I am the AntiYoda!)

There are a great many other things that I do, value, and think are important, but they do not create standards by which I would judge other people. But I do make judgements about people whose lives and perspectives are wildly at odds with the above concepts.

Art and Craft Politics

If it has a use, it is a craft item. If it doesn’t, it’s art.

This is a definition that holds up in high school art classes, galleries, auction houses and all kinds of other places too. I once held an ashtray made by Picasso. Had it been a tiny painting, it would have been under lock and key, and hugely valuable, but an ashtray isn’t art. It was, however, beautiful.

Now, take a moment and consider these questions. Who produces art? Who makes craft items? Who chooses what to spend the money on?

Art is made to be sold to an art market. That’s its sole purpose. At the top end, it’s made to be sold to galleries, companies, wealthy individuals, or it is commissioned for public spaces. Its function is to be decorative, impressive, inspiring, and/or to be a show of wealth and power. The vast majority of famous artists are and were men. There’s an aura of exclusivity about Art, and most of us ‘ordinary’ people couldn’t afford to own any. We buy the poster versions.

Craft items are made to be used. We’re talking Shaker boxes, painted pots, baskets, blankets, rugs, clothing, pottery, decorated furniture… the fine art of using ordinary materials to make your home beautiful. Crafts belong very much to poorer people, to indigenous people, folk traditions. Crafts are often the domain of women.

Every now and then some group of indigenous people, or a folk movement (Shakers for example) become unexpectedly sexy and then collectors want a piece of it, but on the whole, things made for use are treated as secondary to things made purely for decoration. I do not believe this has anything to do with skill, or quality of work (I’ve been in modern art galleries….) and everything to do with class and gender politics.

There is an important green issue to raise here too. Things that are made purely to be things, art for art’s sake is, from a certain perspective, just stuff and clutter. And on the flip side, just because a thing has a function, that’s no excuse for making it ugly and depressing. (Can I mention car parks?) There’s so much fair traded house clutter out there, and that seems to defeat the object of green living in so many ways. Beautiful things made to serve a purpose, are inherently useful and lovely to live with. We have finite resources. Many of us have finite spending power as well, and finite amounts of space to put things on and in. Given the choice, I’d rather have a thing that is both beautiful and useful.

A child’s trust

He believes in me. That’s a humbling thing and an empowering one all at the same time. He believes that I am a good person and that makes me try harder, to make sure I never let him down and am never less than the person he sees. Sooner or later, our parents stop being infallible heroes, but right now I’ve still got something close to that, and I want to make it last because it is such a beautifully, precious gift of trust to be given.

Children are predisposed to trust. They think well of us adults. I remember being young enough to believe that adults knew and understood everything. It was a bit of a shock finding it not so. I’ve been careful, as a parent to flag up the limits of my knowledge and ability. I never wanted him to think I was something I’m not. Yet despite my many shortcomings, weaknesses and failings, he still thinks well of me.

I look at him daily with a mix of awe and wonder. Old beyond his years, helpful, sensitive, insightful, kind and patient, he’s a far better and more emotionally mature person than a fair few adults I’ve met. My son inspires me to want to be so much more than I am.

I don’t know many children that well, but they all come into this world wide eyed and hopeful, wanting to believe the best of us. We have a choice. We can show them how important it is to learn how to be wary, cynical and cautious, or we can try and be the people they think we already are.