Delicate men spring from delicate countries
What the ancients thought about societies embracing their feminine side
Delicate men spring from delicate countries
-Herodotus, Book IX, 122
This quote is a classic, and it stands on its own as a piece of timeless wisdom, perhaps more relevant now than it has ever been in our history.
So, I wanted to delve into it a bit deeper, as the text that surrounds it lends additional shades of meaning. Below is the original text for those who might be interested, and a complete translation follows. (Disclaimer: I’m not an expert in ancient Greek! Feel free to jump in if you have additional information or an alternative interpretation.)
122. [1] τούτου δὲ Ἀρταΰκτεω τοῦ ἀνακρεμασθέντος προπάτωρ Ἀρτεμβάρης ἐστὶ ὁ Πέρσῃσι ἐξηγησάμενος λόγον τὸν ἐκεῖνοι ὑπολαβόντες Κύρῳ προσήνεικαν λέγοντα τάδε. [2] «ἐπεὶ Ζεὺς Πέρσῃσι ἡγεμονίην διδοῖ, ἀνδρῶν δὲ σοὶ Κῦρε, κατελὼν Ἀστυάγην, φέρε, γῆν γὰρ ἐκτήμεθα ὀλίγην καὶ ταύτην τρηχέαν, μεταναστάντες ἐκ ταύτης ἄλλην σχῶμεν ἀμείνω. εἰσὶ δὲ πολλαὶ μὲν ἀστυγείτονες πολλαὶ δὲ καὶ ἑκαστέρω, τῶν μίαν σχόντες πλέοσι ἐσόμεθα θωμαστότεροι. οἰκὸς δὲ ἄνδρας ἄρχοντας τοιαῦτα ποιέειν· κότε γὰρ δὴ καὶ παρέξει κάλλιον ἢ ὅτε γε ἀνθρώπων τε πολλῶν ἄρχομεν πάσης τε τῆς Ἀσίης; [3] » Κῦρος δὲ ταῦτα ἀκούσας καὶ οὐ θωμάσας τὸν λόγον ἐκέλευε ποιέειν ταῦτα, οὕτω δὲ αὐτοῖσι παραίνεε κελεύων παρασκευάζεσθαι ὡς οὐκέτι ἄρξοντας ἀλλ᾽ ἀρξομένους· φιλέειν γὰρ ἐκ τῶν μαλακῶν χώρων μαλακοὺς γίνεσθαι· οὐ γὰρ τι τῆς αὐτῆς γῆς εἶναι καρπόν τε θωμαστὸν φύειν καὶ ἄνδρας ἀγαθοὺς τὰ πολέμια. [4] ὥστε συγγνόντες Πέρσαι οἴχοντο ἀποστάντες, ἑσσωθέντες τῇ γνώμῃ πρὸς Κύρου, ἄρχειν τε εἵλοντο λυπρὴν οἰκέοντες μᾶλλον ἢ πεδιάδα σπείροντες ἄλλοισι δουλεύειν.1
The highlighted words in the extended Greek passage above are the key to the quotation. They are both forms derived from the greek “malakia” μαλακία: "softness," which appears in the text in the forms μαλακῶν, μαλακοὺς. The term has a similar range of meanings in Greek as it does in English, and a play on words is employed to exploit this range fully in the short passage, as we will soon see.
Liddell and Scott offer the following range of meanings (I’ve removed examples for clarity):
A. soft:
I. of things subject to touch,
fresh-ploughed fallow,
soft grassy meadows,
the skin or flesh,
soft-fleeced,
a slow fire,
marsh water,
soil,
to sleep softly, i.e. on soft bedding,
sit softly, i.e. on a cushion
2.
household utensils
II. of things not subject to touch, gentle,
soft, fair words
tender, youthful looks
of scent, faint, delicate
of climate, mild
2. light, mild
III. of persons or modes of life, soft, mild, gentle, easier to handle
2. in bad sense, soft
faint-hearted, cowardly
morally weak, lacking in self-control
of music, soft, effeminate; tuned to a low pitch
of style, feeble
of reasoning, weak, loose
3. weakly, sickly
The implication that “soft” could simultaneously describe freshly ploughed fields, grassy meadows, mild weather, and those who are effeminate, cowardly, or morally weak might initially seem nonsensical. Can we make sense of it?
The two faces of dualism
Many concepts in pre-Christian, Indo-European (IE) cultures were dualistic, meaning that they were paired in comparable, though opposing, conceptual sets. Excluding Zoroastrianism, which imposed a starkly moral dimension on this opposition, IE dualism was generally amoral in the way it conceptualized duality. A thing might have a complementary counterpart that simultaneously opposed and balanced its antithesis. The reverse of the coin, so to speak, was as integral as its obverse—and they were indivisible. These forces were understood to be essential in the proper time and place, and only troublesome when misplaced.
Malakia’s antithesis was karteria (καρτερία) meaning "patient endurance," "perseverance," which we would to this day associate with manly (or, under the unique conditions, female) stoicism or fortitude. However, gentleness and meekness were considered to be primarily feminine qualities, and females in most societies throughout history have been demure relative to males. I won’t delve into the nature versus nurture debate here, but suffice it to say, there is substantial evidence from evolutionary psychology and biology to suggest this isn’t just the product of a cultural conspiracy against womankind. Across cultures, personality traits like agreeableness and compassion have higher representation in females, and volatility higher in males. Culture may accentuate or suppress these natural characteristics—and there are always outliers and exceptions—but they remain demonstrable biological facts that we share with the rest of the animal kingdom.
Softness is a luxury
Like most peoples throughout early human history, ancient Greeks survived by the willingness and ability of their men to defend themselves, their families, and their resources with physical violence, and to endure everyday hardship with resilience. They reasonably determined that meekness was unsuitable for both men and societies. It wasn't a luxury they could afford. European aristocrats from the 17th and 18th C., on the other hand, relinquished their armor for high heels, crazy wigs, and pasty makeup to signal (besides bizarre fashion sense) that they could afford the luxury of effeminacy. Masculinity became passé in their elite world and its antithesis became a means of signaling elite status.
Had humanity been wrong all along? Was delicacy not only possible, but perhaps even virtuous? Or was it all a show—the flex of those with status, thumbing their noses at the lowly peasantry who still had to trade in real physical labor and, yes, occasional violence out in the unmanicured world? What would become of an entire people should they adopt the effete mores and sensibilities of their elites?
Cyrus has some insight into this as he poses his Persian troops a dilemma. Having a taste for conquest after a few successes, naturally they wanted to:
depart from the little and rugged land which we possess and occupy one that is better. There are many such lands on our borders, and many further distant. If we take one of these, we will all have more reasons for renown. It is only reasonable that a ruling people should act in this way, for when will we have a better opportunity than now, when we are lords of so many men and of all Asia?
But Cyrus has an interesting (and somewhat counterintuitive) warning for them:
“Go ahead and do this,” he said; “but if you do so, be prepared no longer to be rulers but rather subjects. Soft lands breed soft men; wondrous fruits of the earth and valiant warriors grow not from the same soil.” The Persians now realized that Cyrus reasoned better than they, and they departed, choosing rather to be rulers on a barren mountain side than dwelling in tilled valleys to be slaves to others.2
One may certainly dispute this logic. But there is an undeniable kernel of truth in it. Comfortable people develop thin skins, weak muscles, and short memories. They forget what the need for survival feels like, and what it entails. And there are always those who remember, and don’t shun a little dirt under their fingernails in the pursuit of life’s necessities. The world has not grown less dangerous, we are just better insulated from its harsh realities. It can still find us. When it does, what will we do, delicate things that we have become?
Herodotus, through the mouth of Cyrus, raises a question we in the West don’t seem comfortable asking anymore. It was important enough to him that he made it the closing argument of his Histories, the first and most comprehensive effort to make sense of the characters, cultures, and conflicts that had shaped the known world.
Artistically, — by this last chapter — the end is brought back into a connection with the beginning — the tail of the snake is curved round into his mouth; while at the same time the key-note of the whole narrative is struck, its moral suggested — that victory is to the hardy dwellers in rough and mountainous countries, defeat to the soft inhabitants of fertile plains, who lay aside old warlike habits and sink into sloth and luxury.3
The conclusion Herodotus draws is stark and easy to dismiss as antiquated, pre-enlightened, and naive. But are those who surmounted the challenges of the past—who lived before the digital age made reality uncool—necessarily the naive ones? We lately look at our ancestors and brand them monsters for the fierceness with which they were willing to fight for the right to determine their own fates. Is it our morality or our malakia that reviles them? Faced today with the same dilemma posed by Cyrus, would we accept hardship as his troops did, or choose the docile life they declined? Given the choice between being rulers of a desert or subjects in paradise—warriors or slaves—which would we decide? Or have we have already chosen?
Herodotus, with an English translation by A. D. Godley. The Histories. Cambridge. Harvard University Press. 1920.
Herodotus, with an English translation by George Rawlinson. The Histories. Everyman’s Library, Alfred A. Knopf. 1997.
Wow! Very scholarly!...I ❤️ the Liddel and Scott Greek dictionary. 😊
A fascinating read! :D