Kathleen Crowther
On June 23, 2016, I flew to London with my husband after a research trip in Germany. There were storms that night and the flight was delayed several hours; we arrived close to midnight.
A friend picked us up and drove us through a torrential downpour into central London.
In her car, listening to the news on the radio, we learned that Brexit had passed. This car ride stands out for me as the moment that I first realized that Donald Trump might actually win the upcoming presidential election in the United States. If xenophobia and racism could triumph in the UK, they could triumph in the US as well.
In the three years since that night, there has been a sharp rise in hateful rhetoric and violence directed against immigrants, Muslims, and people of color in both the UK and the US. A great deal of this is justified as a defense of white or “European” culture that is purportedly “under attack.” This evocation of a culture in need of protection involves a weaponization of the past, particularly the distant past. Ancient Greece and Rome loom large in white supremacist fantasies of a glorious past where masculine martial values ruled and everyone (or at least everyone important) was white. Right-wing groups and individuals have used classical history to justify a range of anti-immigrant, racist, xenophobic and misogynistic ideas and policies.
Arron Banks, co-founder of the Leave.EU campaign, tweeted that “the Roman Empire was effectively destroyed by immigration.” His implication was clear: England should learn from Rome’s example and close her borders to immigrants. Even after Cambridge classicist Mary Beard informed him that this was historically inaccurate, he continued to tweet about the “savages” and “hordes on the border” that had destroyed Rome.
In the midst of these highly publicized fights over ancient history, I have taken particular pleasure in rereading Ruth Downie’s Medicus series. Set in Roman Britain in the second century AD, the books follow the career of Gaius Petreius Ruso, an army doctor (a medicus) stationed in Britannia. The novels are mysteries, each one starting with a suspicious death that Ruso ends up investigating. In Downie’s books, Roman Britain is multi-ethnic and multi-cultural. There are characters from all parts of the Roman Empire, as well as native Britons. Ruso himself comes from Gaul and served in Africa before being posted to Britain. In other words, it is historically accurate, reflecting both textual and archaeological evidence.
The series is also wonderful as history of medicine. As a doctor at an army base, Ruso treats both soldiers and members of the local native population. He bandages wounds, sets broken bones, pulls teeth and deals with coughs, infections, and assorted aches and pains. He battles with a penny-pinching hospital administrator over the costs of the treatments he prescribes and the supplies he uses. Downie’s descriptions of ancient medicine are accurate but also sympathetic. She never portrays what Ruso or other healers do as barbaric or primitive. Occasionally, Downie does bring in some of the more bizarre aspects of Roman medicine, such as the belief that toothaches are caused by tooth worms (240) or that vomiting can be cured with a mixture of “honey containing ashes of burned mouse droppings.” (180) Nonetheless, she makes clear that Ruso is a skillful and compassionate healer.
“Amor Vincit Omnia” is a famous Latin expression meaning “love conquers all”. The phrase or the expression has made a profound influence on our social situations. We can find movies, poems, dramas, mottoes, and various articles influenced by “Amor Vincit Omnia”. We can glean deep significance and meaning for our lives from such a manifestation. From my perspective the love expressed in this phrase is not just about romantic love between a couple; it is more than that. It defines the love inherent in all beings, which we share with our outer environment. It is the love we spread from ourselves to the world. The love a mother gives to her baby, the love a teacher gives to a student, the love we give to nature; these all belong to the love expressed in this phrase as I see it.
We can actually take this as a life lesson. Let’s embark on a small journey into our pasts. Many of you may recall situations where you attempted to attain something using your power, whether it be through money, words, appearance, or any other means. Now, carefully analyze those situations. Perhaps some of you succeeded, and others may not have. Regardless of success or failure, I hope you still feel a sense of remorse or similar emotions when recalling those instances. Now you may believe that you could have handled the situation in a more honorable manner, even if by simply adding a drop of love and respect. A powerful person can force others to do what he wants from them; he can command them, and he will get what he wants. But many people’s suffer, distress, cursing, tears, and exploitation also fuse with his attainment. So that it is just a gain, not a victory.
We only can earn people’s goodwill and respect through love. If we deepen our love for nature, its protective embrace will astound us. Similarly, showing kindness to animals will reveal a gratitude that surprises us. We can win anything and everything through love. Love is a strong and powerful feeling in the universe, and self-love is its strongest form. When we love and respect ourselves first, we find true satisfaction and happiness. This self-contentment allows us to share love freely with others, without expecting anything in return. Self-love is truly wonderful and victorious. As you cultivate the garden of yourself, nurturing the blooming flowers of unique characteristics such as self-respect, authenticity, personality, creativity, integrity, reliability, and kindness with the water of love, your essence of values and goodness will heal the world.
Kathleen Crowther is an
Associate Professor in the
Department of History of Science
at the University of Oklahoma.
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