Marble Statues Left Behind
Or, engaging with Classics contemporarily (with a little help from my friends!)
A while ago, I saw a TikTok offering a take on the place of Classics in the modern world. The creator, an undergraduate student in Classics, talked about how the field is becoming increasingly esoteric, criticized, and small. They spoke of the need for another look, a modern reckoning. A broadening of scope, so that Classics can survive. I came away from that video thinking “Will it?”
The current place of Classics in our culture is…interesting. Perhaps strange. In recent years, Classics—and the humanities in general—has taken an obvious hit. There are no ways to hide wounds that leak red, and various injuries—slashed budgets, axed departments in schools1—still bleed under bandages. But at the same time, there is no question of the cultural fascination with Ancient Greece and Rome. Mythology classes tend to be quite full—I know mine was—and people tend to be versed in Greco-Roman myths and metaphors. We know what an Achilles heel is, who Romulus and Remus were, can call a ruse a Trojan Horse without blinking. The far-right has even (problematically) adopted the relics of Greece and Rome as a part of preservable “white culture.” Part of this is the universality of these myths, to be sure, but part of it is the cultural heritage of the Western World, the same thing present in our courts and laws and children’s tales.
My favorite series when I was young was “The Roman Mysteries.” I downloaded art of Artemis and Apollo, played the Greek mythology island on Poptropica ad infinitum. My favorite myths were mixed Roman-and-Greek. I used to lurk on a mythological wiki for hours at a time, reading the pages of people who made characters based on myth. I compared Greek and Roman myths to Egyptian ones, Etruscan. It was like Connect-Four to me, only more fun.
All of this was a way of bringing youthful fandom tendencies to something ancient and colossal; larger than I was. I wasn’t alone in this: My generation grew up on Greco-Roman myths, spent our early teens with Percy Jackson. The language of magic in our fantasy was Latin, and some of us read Greek classics for school. But then, childhood interest notwithstanding, we grew up: left Greece in our childhood and notions of democracy, relegated Rome to our language and our laws. As such, the field has become the stuff of fairytales. Something we love first, then leave behind.
There are reasons for this. Businesspeople and doctors and engineers come to schools to talk to kids. How many of us met classicists? The field itself is becoming small enough to make self-advertisement difficult, It tends to bristle at the prospect of explaining itself. But when something preoccupies your childhood imagination, there is not really the sense that you can study it, or work with it. Someone has to tell you that you can. You dream as a child, that is afforded to you, of course, but you grow up and learn that dreams are expensive. They are voracious and not so quick to give. When there is scope to what you know; when you’re of university age, you’re given choices. You’re dealt cards, split into two decks. Do you want to pursue Classics? The dealer’s voice is blandly conversational. Or—and now it’s wry—do you want to be employable? Choose! The implication being: quickly, now; time’s ticking.
I think I’ve always been a humanities girly at heart—I’ve always been drawn to stories and history books and pretty words ever since I was young, and while I’ve enjoyed some classes that were more on the STEM side, I always gravitated towards the subjects that focused more directly on the human experience!
I currently study history and linguistics, which both fall somewhere between the humanities and social sciences. While my school is quite STEM-focused, I’m pretty blessed to be part of departments that are still well-equipped and well-established. We have very accomplished and passionate professors and many amazing resources (including the archives, which my friend likes to joke I practically live in)! I do get inevitable doubts about my major choice sometimes when so absorbed in a STEM-oriented environment, but I’ve found many supportive and passionate classmates and friends here and am often reminded of why I love what I’m studying so much. - @/yy.writes on Instagram
Like my big sister, YY, I chose adjacently: journalism and psychology. Close enough to The Humanities that fight fiercely to survive, far enough away to belong to at least one field with some kind of socially perceived value. Everyone knows what journalists and psychologists do, and why.
But perhaps I am being duplicitous, a little. What I will call my romantic interest in the field of Classics developed as a child. That is, my liking of myths, and my desire to learn Latin and Greek. My academic interest developed later, as a consequence of the unrelated fields I’d already chosen. More on that later, though; first, I’d like us to hear from some friends of mine who are interested in Classics and the Humanities.
Firstly, I got to chat with my good friend
, who is currently majoring in Creative Writing and writing a book about Helen of Troy (and thankfully telling me all about it). I asked her about her Classics origin story, and she said this:is another good friend of mine, who started out as an English major, but currently majors in history—“emphasis on African, European, and Asian history”—and minors in English. As the Greco-Roman world is one of her specialties, I asked her about her origin story too. She said this:“When I was 9, my horrible teacher put an animated version of both the Iliad and the Odyssey on for us when we were studying ancient Greece. I got so enraptured by the stories in this animated show thing that I couldn't stop thinking about it — it echoes in the chasms of my brain even now — until it consumed me.
As the years passed by, I reignited my love studying Artemis and Apollo, for reasons I didn't really know. I went down rabbit holes trying to understand everything about them, until I could argue with adults about the myths. I would divorce myself unintentionally from them as time went on and my life got the upper hand.
Eventually when I was about 16, I finally read the Iliad after I discovered this one tumblr account and well the rest was history.”
I'm not sure the exact moment I found an interest in classics. I think, as my love of reading and history grew, they intermingled. Something about Ancient Greece and Rome in particular drew me. Maybe that draw was that same magical mythical thread and battles of gods that drew me to write fantasy and still inspires my writing. Which in that case, I'm sure my childhood readings of Percy Jackson and the like helped. Classics just clicked for me.
My darling
, who learns Latin but is going into STEM, had this to say:My initial attraction to the classics [was] birthed from an appreciation for the foundational texts that helped shape the Western thought and culture I was being taught. That developed swiftly into a passion for the complexity of the literature which discusses still-relevant themes (morality and politics immediately spring to mind).
From Duchessina (@/the.write.queen on Instagram), who plants to study history (alongside PoliSci or literature), I got to hear this:
“Before I was drawn to Ancient Greece, I was drawn to its mythology - courtesy of Percy Jackson. Soon, though, the history student in me that longed to learn about ancient civilizations got into Greece and well, that was where it began.”
And finally
, our resident classicist. I was so grateful to grab an interview with her; here’s her introduction!My name is Cosi Carnegie, I’m originally from Australia and now live in London. I got a Bachelor of Arts (Hons), specialising in Ancient World Studies, from the University of Melbourne and recently completed my Masters in Classics at Cambridge University. Now this is such a cop-out answer but anything else would be a lie so I have to confess that it was Percy Jackson. I read the series when I was 10 or 11 and got absolutely hooked. I studied it a bit in high school and went on an archaeological dig in Italy when I was 19 but the field really dug its hooks in me when I was at uni.
I share a lot of these details with my friends. Percy Jackson is a common thread for most of us, like Eden I was enraptured by the twins, and like Emma, Kia, Cosi and Duchessina, I found a midpoint for my love of books and history. But I think I have a bit more of an embarrassing story.
Let me catch you up with some vignettes.
It is ‘22, early in the year, and the Iliad and the Odyssey are on sale at my local bookstore. I pick them up and take them home, but I pick translations I don’t like; I fret over this for months till I forget.
It is ‘23, and my freshman year of college looms just like a mountain, hurtling like dry land towards a ship at sea. I’ve picked my classes carefully, GeneralEd for the most part, and when I saw “Greek Mythology,” the choice was automatic. It fulfils a requirement, but there are others that did too: I choose this one above all others. This is for us, I told my hidden, six-or-seven-year old self. She opens like a flower at the words.
It is ‘23, and I am in New York. I’ve become a superfan of Emily Wilson and know a little more than I did about translations in ‘22. I pick up Meditations at the B&N at Union Square; I like the English words and wonder briefly about the Greek.
It is ‘23, and the sparked resurgence in Classics came last year, courtesy of #thesecrethistory. It is either autumn, or we are pretending that it is. Everyone is suddenly obsessed with Donna Tartt. The Classics circle, in her aforementioned book, The Secret History, lends the field an attractively cultish mystique. I read the book just before my Greek Mythology class begins, grow sick of the Latin and Greek in it, the bits I cannot understand. I chase down a Tumblr list of translations. It is a make-shift solution, frustrating. That feeling stays with me, and intensifies as I get further in my class. Are we finally learning Latin and Greek? I wonder to myself. Is this going to be the thing that tips the scale?
It is ‘23, and I send an email to my Greek Mythology professor.
It is ‘23-24, and we are learning Latin.
“In a certain sense, this was why I felt so close to the others in the Greek class. They, too, knew this beautiful and harrowing landscape, centuries dead; they'd had the same experience of looking up from their books with fifth-century eyes and finding the world disconcertingly sluggish and alien, as if it were not their home.” THE SECRET HISTORY by Donna Tartt
In retrospect it is a very embarrassing story: one book—that book— and one class tipping the scale and pushing me to make a commitment desired years ago. And yet I don’t regret it in the slightest. The satirical Classics students in TSH, their roles and their descriptions (To quote: “genis gratus, corpore glabellus, arte multiscius, et fortuna opulentus, or as Donna translated it, “smooth-cheeked, soft-skinned, well-educated and rich”) in some deliberately tokenized way represent another barrier to entry with Classics—the stereotypes. I’m glad I get to talk about it now.
The above photo is part of what I mean. I saw it in a window at an outlet I visited and was mesmerized by its implications. Brooks Brothers, with their “Major in the Classics” campaign, seeks to re-enter “Back-to-school style.” They describe their brand of clothing as “Luxury.” Of course, there’s nothing wrong with this, and I got the pun too, but still: it felt like another way to describe Classics students as genis gratus, corpore glabellus, arte multiscius, et fortuna opulentus.
Stereotypes are locks and gates of their own, and Classics can have a very “first rule of the fight club” feel. It belongs to certain people, it exists in ivory towers, it is very white and very rich, et cetera. While these stereotypes aren’t necessarily true, or to use a journalistic phrase, “need context,” they are pervasive and ripple through public perception. And they prevent people—particularly low-income students and students of color—from pursuing the field.
Let’s say you chose Classics; the dealer dealt you your cards. He casts you a glance as you clutch them. He has one only one question—it pools in his eyes—and that singular question is: why?
I saw a meme the other day, made by a female creator of color. Its punch-line boiled down to “I wish I was a white boy studying Classics.”2 It was satire, sure, or something close to it, at least, but it landed very close to the truth. Choosing Classics is a choice with implications.
Out of all the subjects in the Humanities, Classics is perhaps seen as the whitest. The foundation, of whiteness, if you will. No matter how many times classicists yell that imposing modern standards of race, gender, and sexuality onto the past is anachronistic, the sentiment of the ancient world as the pinnacle of whiteness prevails. While feminist Greek mythology retellings and #tagamemnon on Tumblr occupy one seat in the cultural theater, alt-right white nationalists who look to Greek and Rome as the greatest cultures to ever culture sit there too.3 The question is: what’s on the stage?
I’ve tried to look at the field neutrally, but I can’t. I love it deeply, but there is a reason it appeals to the alt-right, just as it does to diverse groups of people. Regardless of the historical facts of whether the Greeks or Romans thought they were white, regardless of the details of how enslavement in their eras differed from the Transatlantic Slave-Trade, regardless of the fact that the white marble sculptures we know were once —people hold onto it and its figures as signifiers of whiteness, bright beacons. The problem isn’t necessarily our subject, I think. The field of Classics, like any field, must be separated from its subject matter in order to be held to the light.
I’ve often thought about my place in the conversation, as an amateur, as a Nigerian. Yes, I’m learning Latin, I’m going to learn Greek—but it comes with guilt, sometimes. Why not African studies? Why not one of my indigenous languages? Why not something that will make more sense when people meet me, or, at least, come across as an obvious act of liberation?
The answer I’ve settled on is this: I think Classics is important, not because it is superior to any other field of area studies, but because it woven so intently with the vision of the present we’re presented with, in and out of the West. If a tree falls in a forest and the sound of it echoes down for centuries, should we exalt it or ignore it out of spite?4
I asked Eden: What’s the justification for studying Classics today, academically or alone? Her answer was one of my favorites.
“I don't think there's any justification needed. If someone likes something then that's them. But if you want a more academic answer, classics have so many stories pertaining to the human condition, SO MANY, that we can reflect on, and see reflected more abstractly in our modern world. Maybe no, you won't kill your dad and marry your mum, but even today we see cities burned, people murdered and lives broken, women kidnapped and raped then blamed for it, men forced into military service if they even want a chance at surviving after their term ends and godknows what else. Classics don't just tell us stories, they show us who we are as humans; who we have been, who we are and even who we'll become. Isn't that essential to understanding ourselves?”
I also talked to my friend Megan, who is studying art, and is enjoying her art history classes.5 While speaking on the wider value of the humanities, she told me the field “has a deep connection to learning and the idea of the past being impactful to this day.” She says:
“I am a lover of all things history and I feel very drawn to learning more about humanities and how they played a role in history and how that ties into today! I think there are so many things to learn from…that time period where it was flooding with all kinds of art, writing, and culture.
What drew me to the humanities definitely has to be a sense of ALWAYS learning more.”
I agree. I want to understand Classics, not as an act of kowtowing to a space that doesn’t belong to me, but instead as an act of knowing about a space that belongs to everyone. There is no such thing as walking away from the past, however sordid; there is no such thing either as a past with only darkness, or only light. There is no such thing as a noncomparative history. In the stories we inherit—and they do belong to everyone—are pieces of humanity, divvied up. The Iliad resonates. The Odyssey resonates. Cicero and Ovid resonate. The gods and goddesses reflect us and our actions. There is so much in our present that belongs to the past, and Classics is only part of that, but a part that matters to me. It is a liberatory act for a young Black girl to learn about Greece and Rome precisely because it is not a liberatory act. It is merely the oldest human pursuit, the pursuit of knowledge: the curiosity that compelled Eve to bite the fruit first, the avarice that drove Adam to it second. It is not uncriticizable, but it doesn’t need defending. I grew up with my history, I will one day learn my languages, and I can learn about Greece and Rome without betraying king and country. Nothing lives in a vacuum, and not to coconut-tree in September, but we really do exist in the context of all in which we live and what came before us.6
Duchessina had something similar to say:
“To me, Ancient Greece, like any civilization, is a symbol of what humanity was, is, will be, and could be. It gives us this sort of connection to people long dead in a deeply profound way. In fact, I wouldn't call any civilization a dead one, because its beliefs, its results - they're an integral part of what we are today. And, in my opinion, Greece is one of those civilizations with the largest impact, if only because of how many people were intrigued by it around the world. Even more so, because of the literature and art it produced - today, we may feel moved by Achilles' grief and rage as written by Homer (or whoever Homer was/were), but perhaps it was the same to people who have come and gone throughout the millennia, and maybe that's what makes it so special. Civilization connects us, and the lasting impression of Ancient Greece shows that.
Kia said something very apt, some parts of which we’ll address very soon:
Personally, I can confidently say that my critical thinking, linguistic skill set, and cross-cultural understanding have all improved significantly since studying classics. I wouldn’t want to generalize a societal benefit or act as a representative, but I will say this further cultivates a sense of historic continuity and provides valuable notions into political systems, legal/moral framework, and philosophical ideas (to name a few).
I asked Cosi: What does the field contribute to society? What necessitates its existence?
She gave me something so thoughtful I have to share it all with you.
If you’d asked me this 4 years ago I think I would have comfortably trotted out one of many copy and paste answers (we need to know where we’ve come from to understand where we’re going, classical Athens was the birthplace of democracy etc etc) but now I find that I’m often asking myself this question. I’m not sure there's a simple or straightforward answer to either of these questions but as far as what the field contributes to society itself, I’d say a sense of wonder and curiosity for sure. Whether it’s something gigantic in a museum, a gorgeous set of ruins, or an ancient love letter, the ancient world moves you, and invites you to reflect on the continuity of the shared human experience. There is great comfort to be found when seeing your own experience—whether it’s a shared hobby, family drama, or a similar experience of heartbreak—reflected in texts and artefacts from thousands of years ago.
When it comes to the necessity of classics, I’m not sure I’d die on that particular hill any more. In fairness, the field does offer compelling and constructive frameworks when thinking about broad topics like politics, democracy, constructions of gender and sexuality, religion etc. But ultimately I think anyone working in this field should be well-aquainted with reality – we are not curing cancer, we are not tackling climate change. We are talking about old, dusty things and old, dusty people. Which is fabulous. BUT it’s not exactly essential. However, with archaeology we do have new discoveries being made all the time which are actually changing what we know about our shared history. I think that’s a pretty important win for the archaeologists when compared with the classicists as far as the production of knowledge goes.
I agree with Cosi. It’s terribly on the nose to say the Humanities offer us humanity, but so be it. It is true. We learn to see history as connected and cyclical, human emotions and experiences as wash-rinse-repeat. We are given the tools to analyze, to think critically, to ask good questions and follow them: to the end, if possible, or to a conclusion, at least, if not.
I spoke with the professor that’s guiding my study, and he mentioned that people who can succeed in the Humanities, who are “academically curious,” can apply their skills to succeed in any field that requires critical thinking and curiosity. The value of any subject under the Humanities umbrella lies in our understanding of the world that tech and science keep running smoothly.7
Like Cosi said, though: this isn’t unique to Classics, so I think if we’re prepared to take the field off life support and help it breathe on its own, we have to question our stake. It’s okay to be involved in the field for love. I think the question should shift from: why Classics in our modern age? to how?
I’m just a student, so I can’t claim to be able to predict much 😂 but from what I’ve been learning and hearing about, I think the humanities are growing and adapting rapidly to our very tech-oriented future, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing! You get really interesting outcomes like the whole field of digital humanities, as well as innovative methods that utilize new tools for humanistic purposes, and I think that’s really cool. For example, I’ve seen projects that involve machine learning or spatial analysis and other such quantitative methods to map out possible answers to questions pertaining to history and classics. I also love the idea of the public intellectual, and I think social media can be a really creative platform to share historical/humanities-related knowledge! Ultimately, I don’t think the humanities are going anywhere, even in an increasingly technological age—rather, they’re becoming ever more important and evolving in really special ways. - @/yy.writes
Recently, I had a discussion with my mother about language change/linguistic descriptivism. My point was: the moment a language stops changing, it dies. The same is true for academic disciplines. Of course, as classicists, we work with dead languages, which is perhaps part of what makes the field feel moribund or stagnant, fearful of change and digitization. The material we’re working with doesn’t change much, and that’s fine, but our approach to the field might need a second look. What does the ancient field of Classics need to survive the modern age? What do we have to do to ensure good and diverse scholarship, to ensure that a field so focused on the past still has a future? What do we have to let go of, if the field is to stay? What do we have to keep keeping?
Asked about the future, Eden said:
“I don't really know. It's such a complex field to define in and of itself, it can morph into other fields and disciplines, and while the stories may stay the same, the ways in which we approach them won't. I think the only thing I really can say is that it won't look as familiar as it is now. It will inevitably change, especially with the introduction of AI and 3d generation and what not.”
My friend
currently studying, English, had a similar view:I’m not sure. if I had to guess, I’d say that the number of people who study the humanities may drop a bit, especially in the wake of AI and other technological advances…but I do believe that there will always be people who love learning in those fields. I feel confident that the humanities will survive no matter what, because humans are resilient—and stubborn. 😂
Kia said:
“I’d hope it becomes more global and comparative as opposed to the traditional Greco-Roman focus that it tends to be aligned towards nowadays! I’m also confident that digital platforms will make them increasingly accessible and possibly lead to more frequent intersections with other related fields of study (religious studies anthropology, and archaeology spring to mind).”
Back to Cosi:
I feel like I’ve revealed my cynicism at the ripe old age of 28 – I think the institutions themselves have to change dramatically and I’m really not sure if that is possible. The way that tenure and long time professorships work, the old guard are superglued to the top positions in various faculties (and go as far to ignore the compulsory retirement age of 65 or 67 so they can stay put) so I’m not exactly brimming with hope when it comes to our universities as bastions of change or modernity. What DOES give me hope is the absolute landslide of people, whether it’s classicists, historians, or archaeologists, who are moving away from academia and throwing themselves into public facing work and outreach. I think the only way the field 1) straight up survives 2) continues to contribute to society in any meaningful way is through making the field more accessible and engaging – breaking down as many barriers as we can and bursting the bubble of classics as some special, elite thing that’s encased in white marble. It’s just not the case, the actual content within the field of classics is so ridiculous/entertaining/absurd and inappropriate. For example, the glamour of classical sculptures is 100% a part of the field’s appeal but the unhinged (bordering on disturbing) stories that inspired these sculptures are equally important. I think any early-stage-classicist needs to be aware of the pitfalls and persistence of internalised snobbery – “that’s not real classics” or “that’s not in Homer” – and make sure that, rather than excluding or dismissing people who are trying to engage, they’re doing whatever they can to bring people along, invite them in, whoever they are and whatever position they’re coming from.
I agree with all of the above. There needs to be demystifying of Classics, a digitizing, perhaps even a decolonizing. But there also needs to be a reigniting of the passion that drives people to it in the first place, and a pooling of the resources that exist. We are not better than other academics, and we have as much to offer both the academy and the public. Like Cosi said: public facing work is important. Like Kia said: there is a future in Classics as a branch of global or comparative history. Like Eden said: the field is almost certainly not going to look the same. Perhaps we should stop fearing this change, and welcome discursive discussions and innovative methods that reinvent the field and its legacy.
“I’d say I’m drawn to the humanities because it fosters awareness of the connection between people—artistically, linguistically, historically. I love being able to forge that connection with people both in the past and the present! it’s rewarding to me to be able to echo the emotions of someone who might have lived centuries ago. in short, I find the humanities valuable because they remind me of how close humans are to one another.
I attended a humanities lecture the other day at my college and something that really stuck with me was when one of the panelists encouraged freshman to major in the humanities. she said, “if you love what you learn, then you can’t go wrong.” and that really reaffirmed my decision to major in English even though it’s not necessarily a major that will land me a “guaranteed job.” but I’m determined to put in the work to do what I love, no matter what happens.” -
I’d like to end with this. When I spoke to my professor to frame my approach for this essay, we spoke about many things. Classics enrollments, renewed interest, how entering the field without a financial safety net can feel like jumping into the void. But he said one thing about the future of Classics that has stayed with me, and I’d like to share it. “The field may shrink,” he said, “but work will continue, in various forms.”
This is almost entirely verbatim.
Please please read this article about Dan-El Padilla Peralta, with an eye on the racist appropriations of Classics and what that might mean for the field. (He Wants to Save Classics From Whiteness. Can the Field Survive?) And also this. And this too.
And the Greek Chorus says: Not the latter, not the former, but a secret third thing!
She told me “I get to take a lot of art history classes where I feel that I get a very good handle on humanities and the arts. There are multiple classes and those classes are split into to different time periods so that it’s not all jam packed into a semester, but drawn out so you can connect to the info on a deeper level which I think there should be more of.”
I’m assuming all of Substack knows about this particular Kamala Harris quote.
This is incredible and I couldn't agree more. It's so well written.
This is so well put and thought out. My BA is in Classics, and I have a deep love of the field, but not an uncomplicated one, and one that comes with guilt and always a strange feeling of thinking I should have studied my own Latin American history instead of Ancient Greek.
I love your line that classics is "woven so intently with the vision of the present we’re presented with, in and out of the West. If a tree falls in a forest and the sound of it echoes down for centuries, should we exalt it or ignore it out of spite?" This is such a good observation regarding the field and its importance.