The Iliad is a seminal piece of literature which generations of warriors have used as an inspiration to draw their own guidelines of battlefield conducts and reinforce warrior culture. Alexander the Great, one of the most successful generals in history, deemed the Iliad “a perfect portable treasure of all military virtue and knowledge" and put a copy of it underneath his pillow wherever he slept (Higgins 2010). In spite of this, however, the Iliad contains an undercurrent presence of antiwar sentiment that sharply contrasts with its perceived role as a glorifying tale of warriors and battlefield heroics. Behind scenes of excess violence, the Iliad is , at its core, an examination of the woeful effects of war on its human participants—both combatants and the innocent.
From the very first few chapters, rather than depicting a well-disciplined and high-morale army as a pro-war story should, the Iliad opts to present us with an impassionate and apathetic Greek force which cannot care less about the outcomes of the war that they take part in. While the Greek soldiers unanimously rejoice at the prospect of going home, their superiors—Agamemnon and Achilles—quarrel over their shares of looted gains—a superficial matter that ignites uncalled-for hostility and tension between the supposed allies. When Menelaus promises the Greek soldiers a swift end to the fighting by a duel to death between him and Paris, the soldiers “exulted, hoping this would end the agonies of war” (Homer & Fagles, 3, 1998). On the other hand, the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles erupts as Agamemnon, furious that he has to return his captured maiden back to her father, claims to take Achilles’ maiden as compensation. Feeling insulted by Agamemnon’s outrageous demand, Achilles attacks Agamemnon for his cowardice, greed, and senseless war against the Trojan state:
“Never once did you arm with the troops and go to battle or risk an ambush packed with Achaea’s picked men…when it comes to dividing up the plunder the lion’s share is yours, and back I go to my ships, clutching some scrap, some pittance that I love, when I have fought to exhaustion…The Trojans never did me damage, not in the least” (Homer & Fagles, 1, 1998).
The Greek forces’ averse sentiment towards the war and the conflict between Achilles and Agamemnon stem from the fundamental meaninglessness of the Trojan war. The strife begins as the Trojan prince Paris abducts Helen, wife of the Spartan king Menelaus, who persuades his brother Agamemnon to wage war against Troy to reclaim his Helen. Therefore, he is the only individual in the entire Greek army with any real reason to fight—a driving motive that, unfortunately, is not shared by any other Greek warrior. The lack of patriotic ideals that can fuel combat motivation results in the Greek soldiers’ nonchalant attitudes towards the war and joyous reception of its ostensibly imminent conclusion. On the other hand, the absence of moralistic ideals renders both Achilles and Agamemnon avaricious, which sparks their quarrel over the share of plundered goods and trophy maidens. Charging into battle without a righteous cause, Achilles is only interested in wealth accumulation and women. As a result, he resents Agamemnon for always claiming the largest portion of looted gains and gets extremely irate upon knowing Agamemnon’s intent of taking away his maiden. Similarly to Achilles, Agamemnon only cares about monetary gains in this war; he doesn’t put his life on the line, but rather commands his men do the rapine for him to fulfill his greed for wealth. As Achilles’ and Agamemnon’s material interests collide, their rather superficial contention arises. In the first few chapters, the Iliad introduces us with a dispirited, morally disoriented army that is plagued with strife and turmoil. This depiction deconstructs the glamorized perception of warfare and shows the warriors as mere mortals with all of their earthly concerns and fallacies.
The Iliad also powerfully depicts the disintegration of men’s sanity in the face of the woeful nature of war, as shown through Achilles’ example. From a man of principles who yearns for the ever-lasting glory that war can offer, Achilles becomes a vengeful berserker after the death of his best friend, Patroclus, at the hand of Hector. Upon hearing the news of Patroclus’ death, Achilles claws dirt onto his face, tries to rip out his hair with his hands, and utters a “terrible, wrenching cry” (Homer & Fagles, 18, 1998). He then goes into a deep depression, refusing food and sleep, and contemplating suicide (Homer & Fagles, 18, 1998). In combat, a soldier’s desire to protect his comrades-in-arms is often what pushes him to keep on fighting, as the soldiers have formed intimate, inextricable bonds with one another. However, Achilles fails to protect Patroclus, his headstrong friend, which leaves him desolated and full of regrets. Achilles’ grief soon transforms into uncontrollable rage: he embarks on a killing rampage, which results in the brutal deaths of numerous Trojans until it culminates in Hector’s death. But Hector’s death is not enough to satiate Achilles’ fury; he goes on to desecrate his corpse by tying it around his chariot and dragging it around Troy (Homer & Fagles, 22, 1998). In his blind rage, Achilles loses touch with humanity and veers towards barbarism, as expressed in his scornful and disrespectful attitude towards Hector’s pleas for a proper burial: “Beg no more, you fawning dog…The dogs and birds will rend you — blood and bone” (Homer & Fagles, 22, 1998)! His berserk killing rampage and utter disregard for the etiquette of proper burial show how the war has traumatized and inflicted its toll on him, robbing him of his sanity and humanity. Achilles’ once hopeful aspiration to obtain ever-lasting glory in warfare is now displaced by grief and rage and an unquenchable thirst for revenge.
Simone Weil’s essay “The Iliad, or the Poem of Force”, published in 1940, holds that “the center of the Iliad is force”, particularly the unstoppable force that a soldier transforms into once he is completely possessed in war and absorbs himself in acts of violence. She said that “the first contact of war does not immediately destroy the illusion that war is a game”, as the human spirit “will not submit to it so long as it can possibly escape.” However, she said: “Soon there comes a day when fear, or defeat or the death of beloved comrades touches the warrior’s spirit…At that moment, war is no more a game or a dream.” Such is the case with Achilles, who hasn’t tasted the dreadful nature of war until his spirit is struck with the death of Patroclus, his closest friend. To him, war ceases to be about glory or money. In Weil’s belief, as the soul of the soldier suffers violence regularly, the mind loses “all capacity to so much as look outward [and] is completely absorbed in doing itself violence.” And slowly, the soldier “is like a scrouge of nature”, who, “possessed by war”, “becomes a thing.” Achilles, in his blind rage, indulges himself in a relentless killing rampage and is so absorbed in war that he becomes just “a thing” incapable of perceiving anything beyond immediate acts of violence. As “a thing” that is void of any concern for civilized propriety, Achilles ardently intents to rob Hector of a honorable funeral and mutilate his corpse.
Another powerful theme touched on by the Iliad is the torment of the warriors’ family members. The horrible costs of the waging of war extend far beyond the battlefield—to the parents, wives and children who stay at home and shoulder the anguish brought about by the loss of their loved ones in combat. In the Iliad, the grief war bores down onto family members is best demonstrated by the reactions of Hector’s parents and wife to his death. As Hecuba and Priam witness the devastation of their son’s corpse at the hand of Achilles, they become swamped by despair. Hecuba begins to tear her hair and wails with grief, uttering a “high, shattering scream”, while Priam groans and tries to rush out to the gate to save his son from desecration (Homer & Fagles, 22, 1998). He implores and cries to those who intent to restrain him: “Let go, my friends! Much as you care for me, let me hurry out of the city… So many sons he slaughtered, just coming into bloom … but grieving for all the rest, one breaks my heart the most and stabbing grief for him will take me down to Death — my Hector” (Homer & Fagles, 22, 1998). As the groans and wails ring out and reach Andromache, Hector’s wife, she is immediately overwhelmed with anxiety that she drops her shuttle to the ground. When she finally witnesses the “ruthless work” being done to Hector, she faints, “falling backward, gasping away her life breath” (Homer & Fagles, 22, 1998). If the Iliad were a glorifying tale of battle heroics, Achilles slaying Hector would be one of the most triumphant moments in the epic; instead, the scene is weighted with gravity by the depictions of the sorrow that Hector’s family has to bear over his death.
On the other hand, the Greek warriors act in a uncivilized and dishonorable manner towards Hector, as depicted in how they exultantly stab his corpse: “And not a man came forward who did not stab his body, glancing toward a comrade, laughing: “Ah, look here — how much softer he is to handle now, this Hector, than when he gutted our ships with roaring fire” (Homer & Fagles, 22, 1998)! For a story that supposedly aggrandizes war, the choice to demonize, rather than to extol the army with which Achilles, our protagonist, has cast his lot seems perplexing.
The theme of the impact of war on family is further reinforced in Priam’s daring embarkment through the Greek camp to plead Achilles for the return of his son’s corpse. The father-son relationship between Priam and Hector is extremely profound and intimate that, in the wake of Hector’s death, Priam is driven into frenzy. He abandons his responsibilities as a king and acts in a manner that a mourning father does; he risks his life, along with the life of his nation, to visit and beg Achilles for the return of Hector’s body, despite the fact that Troy will certainly fall in bereft of its king. The effects of war have exacted such a personal pain on Priam that he chooses to protect his son over his nation. Before the murderer of his child, Priam clasps his knees and kisses Achilles’ hands, “those terrible, mankilling hands that had slaughtered Priam’s many sons in battle” (Homer & Fagles, 24, 1998). Though weighted with profound hatred toward Achilles, Priam puts aside his negative feelings and begs the man who kills his son to take pity on him. He appeals to the father-son bond, which Achilles undoubtedly shares, to affect his emotional state and establish a connection between them: “Remember your own father, great godlike Achilles…he hears you’re still alive and his old heart rejoices, hopes rising, day by day, to see his beloved son come sailing home from Troy” (Homer & Fagles, 24, 1998). Priam’s words remind Achilles’ of his own father and the love between them; overwhelmed by the memory of their loved ones, Achilles and Priam cry with each other. The sense of grandeur that dominates the battle sequences is now displaced by the sentimentality of two men weeping over their shared grief—the woeful grief that the waging of war has brought upon both of them. Had this war never come into being, they would still have had their loved ones right now, by their side. This touching scene serves as a poignant reminder that in war, everyone suffers, regardless of which side of the battlefield one stands on.
In popular culture, the epic tale of the Iliad is often characterized as a glamorization of war and battlefield heroics. In truth, however, the Iliad provides intriguing commentary on the tragic effects of warfare on combatants and bystanders, thereby advocating for the denouncement of war. In today’s world, where every nation builds up unprecedentedly massive militaries, the Iliad and its theme of anti-war should still have their relevance and serve as an important reminder of the dreadful consequences that will inevitably follow in war’s wake.
Bibliography
Higgins, Charlotte. “The Iliad and What It Can Still Tell Us about War.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 30 Jan. 2010, www.theguardian.com/books/2010/jan/30/iliad-war-charlotte-higgins.
Homer, and Robert Fagles. The Iliad. Penguin Books, 1998.
Weil, Simone. "The Iliad, or the Poem of Force." On Violence, edited by Bruce Lawrence and Aisha Karim. Duke University Press, 2007