Nationalism and Xenophobia: Barriers to Original Research on Early Rome

“In the new age of warfare we cling to the outdated notion of the single hero able to carry out daring feats of courage on the battlefield… Peddling the myth of heroism is essential, maybe even more so now, to entice soldiers into war.” (pg. 86, War is a Force that Gives Us Meaning by Chris Hedges). In the same vein, Chris Hedges decries the unrealistic picture of “the Rambo heroics we are fed by the state and the entertainment industry.” (pg. 87). The generic cartoon character of G.I. Joe, an American military veteran, represents a national hero, or “a real American hero” (Duke), indicating that national identity is often tied to the symbol of the single, brave warrior who defends that nation’s values and culture. I also would like to add that the comic superhero Captain America is an obvious embodiment of the American military hero who saves the country. 

 

Everyone knows that the name ‘America’ came first before Captain America showed up on the scene, but not everybody realizes that the name ‘Roma’ came first before the heroic Romulus showed up on the scene. We can thus connect ancient Roman national identity to the required sentiment of a singular founding hero, Romulus, who could perform amazing exploits in protecting and expanding the boundaries of Rome.

The concept of a single hero or king with immeasurable powers who acts as a role model for the nation is what underlies the Indian epic Ramayana and the foundation myth of Rome. The role model and the nation’s identity then become inextricably intertwined, which is why Rome is named after Romulus, according to the conventional story of ancient Italy. But the reality is that the imposition of national identity, national culture, or simply nationalism is what fueled the creation of the Romulus legend, while also masking the ignorance of the local population regarding foreign influences that led to the actual process of naming Rome in the Orientalizing and Archaic periods.

 

English author George Orwell, who rightly questioned the whole idea of national identity (“Do such things as ‘national cultures’ really exist?”, pg. 22, The English People), hints at this ignorance that one could point out in any civilization, modern or ancient. He writes: “Millions of English people willingly accept as their national emblem the bulldog, an animal noted for its obstinacy, ugliness, and impenetrable stupidity. They have a remarkable readiness to admit that foreigners are more ‘clever’ than themselves, and yet they feel that it would be an outrage against the laws of God and Nature for England to be ruled by foreigners.” (pgs. 24-26). In essence, Orwell is telling us that nationalism acts as a shield against foreign influence, and nationalists worship symbols of ignorance such as the bulldog because of their irrational fear of the unknown (‘ignorance is bliss’, as the saying goes).

 

The Loyal American Soldier exemplifies National Identity

Xenophobia is thus a natural consequence of nationalism. Nationalism also breeds a stubborn unwillingness to explore new or fresh perspectives on history. The entire preface of Cornell’s book (The Beginnings of Rome: Italy and Rome from the Bronze Age to the Punic Wars) literally appears to be dedicated to condemning this defining trait of Anglo-American scholars. He laments in a long monologue:

“Who could be so idle or apathetic as not to want to know how Rome grew from nothing to become the dominant power in Italy? When, how, and why did the city come into existence? Who were the Romans, and what were the secrets of their success? Such questions, one would have thought, would stimulate anyone endowed with even the most modest level of historical curiosity… What is surprising, and needs to be explained, is the fact that early Roman history has been largely ignored by scholars in the English-speaking world. This seems to be a curiously Anglo-Saxon phenomenon… Roman history before the Punic Wars is regarded as a marginal topic. It is hardly ever taught in school or university courses, and almost no one chooses it as a subject for research… The lack of any established tradition of scholarship on this subject in the English-speaking world remains a puzzle which I for one am not able to explain.” (pgs. xiv-xv)

The reason for wanting to know why Roma was Roma is that we all are fascinated by the iconic imagery of the twins suckling the she-wolf. It remains ‘the’ symbol of ancient Rome and Italy to this day (e.g. Siena’s tower in the world-famous Piazza del Campo), and we should care to find out what secrets lie behind it. Those secrets reveal our own collective history, as members of western, eastern, and global civilization. As brothers and sisters of the human race, let us be free to repudiate the bigoted Anglo-American intelligentsia.

 

Perhaps the Anglo-American intelligentsia should decipher the subconscious meaning of John Lennon’s lyrics in the Beatles’ song
Hey Bulldog, written almost like an ode to Orwell’s English people: ‘Some kind of innocence is measured out in years… You don’t know what it’s like to listen to your fears. You can talk to me… Big man, walking in the park… Wigwam, frightened of the dark… Some kind of solitude is measured out in you… You think you know me, but you haven’t got a clue.’ One could envision an Etruscan from the past singing these lines to a classical historian in the western world to metaphorically describe the stubborn ignorance of modern scholars when encountering literary and archaeological evidence from or relating to sixth-century Rome and Etruria, especially Caere.

Cornell’s puzzlement at the lack of interest in early Rome can be explained if we are cognizant of the dearth of corresponding scholarship in the field of ancient Persian and Indian studies. Without understanding these two cultures and their connection to Greece and the Near Eastern Mediterranean region, we cannot understand early Rome. The Indo-Iranian civilization is one of the oldest in history and its shared heritage with Greece, culturally and linguistically, is often underestimated. The inherent superiority complex of Western Europe and North America, especially among white scholars of British descent, obstructs a concerted effort to attack the problems with the evidence about early Rome. We cannot just allow the so-called experts from Cambridge, Oxford, and the other prestigious universities in the English-speaking world to monopolize our perceptions about Rome’s beginnings. Faced with these complications, asking an outsider’s opinion, even if he is not a specialist in classics or ancient history, can help advance the field. Yes, the documentation of that uncertain time in the annals of classical historians is scarce. But Cornell does not accept this as an excuse to throw out centuries before the common era from the pages of our books: “The evidence is indeed extremely difficult, and problems of verification are acute, but it is incorrect to say that nothing can be known about how Rome began, or how it developed during the early centuries of its existence.” (pg. xv).