A few years ago I worked as a substitute teacher, and wanting to make Geometry interesting to high school students, I told them all about Thales, the Greek Mathematician who calculated the exact height of the Egyptian pyramids by measuring their shadows circa 500 BCE, and of Eratosthenes, who calculated almost perfectly the circumference of the Earth sometime around 220 BCE. They were astounded to learn that Geometry was, in fact, one of the oldest forms of Mathematics on the planet. However, the one theory they wouldn't believe was that of a Phoenician voyage to the Americas – which supposedly took place in the 400's BCE. One student remarked, “How did they get across the Atlantic? In rafts?”
And there it is. The all-too-common misunderstanding about history that constantly pervades Western culture. We think of the ancients as being nothing but primitive, superstitious fear-mongers who jumped at their own shadows and had no technological achievements of interest. This is one of the reasons I am writing this blog; to show that mankind has been ingeniously solving problems since long before the industrial revolution, and to remind us that some of the problems we face today may have a solution in the past. After all, those who forget the past are doomed to . . . um . . . something something.
Well, anyway, let's press on. The ancient people didn't get across the Mediterranean in rafts or skiffs, or any other short-range vessel. They used one of the oldest ships around: the Trireme. The Trireme is so old that no one is really sure who invented it, or even which people group started using them first. Yet they could travel fifty to sixty miles a day if the crew worked at a moderate pace. If they worked harder, they could travel more than a hundred and fifty miles (theoretically). What was the secret of their power?
Well, the Trireme gets the tri- from the number three, as in three rows of hardworking oarsmen. The ship's interior was designed with the two sides slanting inward toward a fairly pointed bottom. Holes were cut in the side for oars, and the ship was big enough to accommodate 170 rowers who were guided by a few midshipmen who gave the rhythm. Add 20 or so Marines on the deck to prevent boarding, and you've got yourself an authentic fully-manned Trireme, a fearsome weapon when wielded by those who used them the best: the Athenians.
Athens is a coastal city, just like most powerful Greek cities. However, Athens had a rich countryside in which they cultivated olives, wheat, and other foodstuffs, and its mountains were full of precious metals, of which the rich speculators in Athens took full advantage. Yes, this future capital of Greece had a lot going for it, and constant naval trade meant that this city was always ready to drive off invaders by sea.
The Romans would later spend several months out of every year training their soldiers, but Athens had no need to train its navy because they were constantly keeping in shape by serving the merchants and ensuring commerce to places like Palestine, Egypt, Carthage, and even Rome itself. Because of this, anyone hoping to attack Athens would have to do so by land, which is what inevitably led to its downfall.
The Athenian Trireme was built hull-first from soft, light woods, with the ribs and girders being added after the woodwork was finished. It was light enough that the crew could carry it to shore without much difficulty, but this also meant that it could fall prey to heavier ships. However, heavier ships were typically slower, and the main tactic used by Trireme crews in this time was to ram the other ships diagonally from the side to tear a huge breach in their hull. This was easy to do in a light, nimble Trireme, and heavier ships made from stronger woods often fell prey to these jackrabbits of the sea.
So could these ships, which were very expensive, time-consuming to produce (6000 man hours per ship!), and exhausting to operate have really traveled from the Western Mediterranean all the way to Brazil? Personally, I think it's possible, but I don't think it was accomplished. If they did, there's little evidence to suggest that any pan-Atlantic commerce was taking place, as some who promote this theory claim, and I can't imagine that such commerce would even cover the expedition cost, much less turn a profit. However, there is a Carthaginian coin that dates to 350 BCE which has what looks like a tiny world map near its edge that seems to depict some land beyond Spain. Perhaps they had at least discovered that there was land beyond the seemingly endless ocean, but short of a sudden windfall of evidence, this theory remains on the fringe.
While the odds are stacked against them, I think that this subject should be discussed in the classroom. What keeps most subjects alive and interesting are the questions which arise from them, and I think that the world of history education needs to stop being afraid of these kinds of questions, especially when the events that are in question happened so long ago. Again, after weighing the evidence myself, I find that it's only wishful thinking that makes me want to believe it, therefore I cast it out since it cannot be supported. But the act of weighing that evidence was fun, and I think that if school were more fun, more kids would give it an honest chance.
Pax vobiscum
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