The Minoan-Mycenaean Culture
Descent through the female line I denote by the term matrilineal. Female rule to the exclusion of male participation I denote by gynarchy. Predominance of female power socially and politically, I denote generically by matriarchy. A theology that claims that the world is the manifestation of a female power, I denote by Gaiaism. Greek and Roman letters speak of societies that were gynarchies—of Amazons, of the women of Lesbos—but a society in which men have no rights at all is scarcely something we can imagine when dealing with ancient civilisations; one finds a structure in which both men and women have social power, but in which women are dominant, or conversely, where the rights of men are inferior to those of women. Such a mixed structure is also a matriarchy. Since the extent of female power can range from pure gynarchy down to equality, the notion of a developed matriarchy is pertinent: a social structure originating in some purer form of matriarchy that has been successively diluted; men have prominent roles, but society remains theologically founded upon female power, and women class-by-class have greater rights. The Etruscan civilisation was a developed matriarchy, as demonstrated in their funerary arrangements—women had larger and more elaborate tombs than men. Ancient Egypt was also a developed matriarchy. The thesis is that Mycenaean Greece was a developed matriarchy, while the earlier Minoan Crete was a matriarchy proper, and if not a gynarchy, closer to it. The grades of matriarchy progress from gynarchy, to matriarchy to developed matriarchy—they are all matriarchies, but some are more matriarchal than others.
Men have long entertained the notion that women are the “weaker sex” in ways that make them unfit for fighting or for confronting morally challenging situations, more adapted to domesticity under the “protection” of their fathers, husbands and even sons; but these norms are likely to prove to be socially constructed.
The Linear B tablets make it clear that men of the Mycenaean world did have prominent roles, some identified by titles such as wanax, guasileus, lawagetas, telestas and hequetas, which have been translated as ‘king’, ‘country lord’, ‘leader of the people’, ‘court official’, and ‘knight companion’ respectively. The kingdom of Pylos was also divided into sixteen regions each administered by a ko-re-te, who had a deputy, a po-ro-ko-re-te. These officials also appear to be men. Occupations are also strongly typed by gender. At Pylos, female occupations include: corn-grinding, nursing, carding, spinning, flax-working, bath-attendance and waiting.
Has all our “understanding” of the Mycenaean and Minoan cultures been contaminated by the backward projection of patriarchy? Is there any evidence to prove that the Mycenaeans lived in families, or is there merely an assumption that they must have lived thus with a male head of the house, because that is the way we have lived? I can find no evidence in the Linear B tablets for what we call family life. Men and women appear to be segregated into work-groups and young boys and girls stay with their mother. The following is a typical entry.
Men have long entertained the notion that women are the “weaker sex” in ways that make them unfit for fighting or for confronting morally challenging situations, more adapted to domesticity under the “protection” of their fathers, husbands and even sons; but these norms are likely to prove to be socially constructed.
The Linear B tablets make it clear that men of the Mycenaean world did have prominent roles, some identified by titles such as wanax, guasileus, lawagetas, telestas and hequetas, which have been translated as ‘king’, ‘country lord’, ‘leader of the people’, ‘court official’, and ‘knight companion’ respectively. The kingdom of Pylos was also divided into sixteen regions each administered by a ko-re-te, who had a deputy, a po-ro-ko-re-te. These officials also appear to be men. Occupations are also strongly typed by gender. At Pylos, female occupations include: corn-grinding, nursing, carding, spinning, flax-working, bath-attendance and waiting.
Has all our “understanding” of the Mycenaean and Minoan cultures been contaminated by the backward projection of patriarchy? Is there any evidence to prove that the Mycenaeans lived in families, or is there merely an assumption that they must have lived thus with a male head of the house, because that is the way we have lived? I can find no evidence in the Linear B tablets for what we call family life. Men and women appear to be segregated into work-groups and young boys and girls stay with their mother. The following is a typical entry.
(Aa01)
me-re-ti-ri-ja WOMAN 7 ko-wa 10 ko-wo 6 Seven corn-grinding women, ten girls, six boys. |
The expression “WOMAN” indicates an ideogram rather than a word. The translation is by Ventris and Chadwick. The work of these two great scholars is coloured by the backward-projection of patriarchy; nonetheless, they observe: “The casual references to the fathers of the children [in one tablet referring to “rowers”] also seem to indicate that they are not the product of any regular union. The absence of men listed in their own right is surprising; women appear to predominate, and where the men are listed it is as the sons of the women.” (Documents in Mycenaean Greek, p.156.) Furthermore, boys of a certain age are taken from their mothers and trained separately.
(Ad676)
pu-ro re-wo-to-ro-ko-wo ko-wo MEN 22 ko-wo 11 At Pylos: twenty-two sons of the bath-attendants, eleven boys. |
There appears to be no separate word in Mycenaean Greek for “wife”, and no unambiguous mention of a “wife” at all; no mention of preparations for a wedding or marriage. Priests and priestesses arrange sacrifices; they do not arrange marriages, so far as we know. While we conclude that most children did not know who their father was, there is evidence of concern for paternity within the ruling class.
(Sn01.15)
ne-qe-u e-te-wo-ke-re-we-i-jo to-towe-to o-a-ke-re-se ZE I [X nn] Ne-qe-u son of Etewoklewes this year took as follows: one pair, x X. |
(The denotation of x X, is not known.) The presence of a patronymic is rare and does not prove that Neqeu was the biological son of Etewoklewes; he may have been adopted. Greek mythology speaks of countless occasions when a hero who did not know his father was adopted by another man: for example, Heracles was adopted by Amphitryon and Theseus by Aegeus, and perhaps not so well-known but pertinent, Ephialtes and Otus, sons of Iphimedeia by Poseidon, were adopted by Aloeus. But the fact that some of the men at Pylos are known as sons of other men is significant. The picture emerges of a developing masculinism out of a background of matriarchy.
Let us elaborate a little on what is missing from the Linear B tablets. We know what the people ate—mainly bread and figs—but we don’t know where they ate; we don’t know who they ate with; from the evidence presented it seems unlikely that they lived in families; while there were houses of “apsidal” design, we do not know exactly where men and women of the segregated work-groups slept; some tablets indicate that workers were assigned bedding in pairs, but the pairings are for two men, a man and his daughter, and for a woman and her daughter; hence, we do not know whether they slept alone, in groups, and if in groups, whether these were same-sex groups; we suspect that the “aristocracy” washed in baths because there are bath-attendants, but we don’t know what the common-people did for sanitation; the records do not appear to say anything about washing and laundry; the tablets say nothing about how men and women met for the sake of procreation; we know nothing about their entertainments; some preparations for a religious festival or service are indicated, but we know only a little of their festive calendar; we do not know how these festivals were celebrated; there is no reference to how the wanax or his officials were appointed; there are sons, but no knowledge of laws of inheritance; the absence of information about marriage has already been noted, it follows automatically that we know nothing about “dynastic” arrangements, if there were any; we know nothing about their music, poetry or literature (Linear B was devised as a language for accounting, and it is said it could not be used to record poetry, narrative or ideas); we know very little from the tablets about their theology; although extensive knowledge of land tenure is conveyed in the tablets, the background to those arrangements is obscure. We have isolated parts of the social structure, but the “glue” holding those parts together is missing. If we wish to fill in the gaps with medieval or modern patriarchy, then an argument must be constructed in its favour. It cannot be assumed.
But the tablets certainly improve our knowledge of Mycenaean civilisation—it is a question of stepping back and seeing the picture. We know that women in Mycenaean Greece could hold land on the same terms as men, and we also learn that neither men nor women needed to cite their (non-existent?) spouse when “land-ownership” was in question: they hold land as individuals. Other tablets testify that “corporations” could “own” land, as could deities.
A recent author describes Myceneaean society as “not overwhelmingly oppressive.” (Casteldon, Mycenaeans p.84, my underlining.) I could not disagree more; for the lower orders there was no freedom whatsoever. Though there were rural areas not attested in the tablets that fell beyond the scope of a given palace’s administration, the society depicted is one that is utterly controlled in all respects. No free-market is attested, and without a means of exchange, one could not exist. Was it possible to “run away to sea” and make a career through the sweat of one’s brow? All surplus produce is expropriated by the state machine, and the forces behind that machine are vague—at Pylos, there is the wanax (king?) bordering upon divine status; and more important yet, the high-priestess, who resides at a place called pa-ki-ja-ne, and holds more land than anyone else. Beneath them is an elite of personages, all feeding off the labour of the “servants”, “slaves” and other categories of persons. The priesthood is squatting on the shoulders of the people. Marx could have written volumes about it, and perhaps Lenin had a hand in the catastrophe that followed. Such a life would be intolerable, and furthermore, there is the shadow of something more unpleasant yet.
Let us elaborate a little on what is missing from the Linear B tablets. We know what the people ate—mainly bread and figs—but we don’t know where they ate; we don’t know who they ate with; from the evidence presented it seems unlikely that they lived in families; while there were houses of “apsidal” design, we do not know exactly where men and women of the segregated work-groups slept; some tablets indicate that workers were assigned bedding in pairs, but the pairings are for two men, a man and his daughter, and for a woman and her daughter; hence, we do not know whether they slept alone, in groups, and if in groups, whether these were same-sex groups; we suspect that the “aristocracy” washed in baths because there are bath-attendants, but we don’t know what the common-people did for sanitation; the records do not appear to say anything about washing and laundry; the tablets say nothing about how men and women met for the sake of procreation; we know nothing about their entertainments; some preparations for a religious festival or service are indicated, but we know only a little of their festive calendar; we do not know how these festivals were celebrated; there is no reference to how the wanax or his officials were appointed; there are sons, but no knowledge of laws of inheritance; the absence of information about marriage has already been noted, it follows automatically that we know nothing about “dynastic” arrangements, if there were any; we know nothing about their music, poetry or literature (Linear B was devised as a language for accounting, and it is said it could not be used to record poetry, narrative or ideas); we know very little from the tablets about their theology; although extensive knowledge of land tenure is conveyed in the tablets, the background to those arrangements is obscure. We have isolated parts of the social structure, but the “glue” holding those parts together is missing. If we wish to fill in the gaps with medieval or modern patriarchy, then an argument must be constructed in its favour. It cannot be assumed.
But the tablets certainly improve our knowledge of Mycenaean civilisation—it is a question of stepping back and seeing the picture. We know that women in Mycenaean Greece could hold land on the same terms as men, and we also learn that neither men nor women needed to cite their (non-existent?) spouse when “land-ownership” was in question: they hold land as individuals. Other tablets testify that “corporations” could “own” land, as could deities.
A recent author describes Myceneaean society as “not overwhelmingly oppressive.” (Casteldon, Mycenaeans p.84, my underlining.) I could not disagree more; for the lower orders there was no freedom whatsoever. Though there were rural areas not attested in the tablets that fell beyond the scope of a given palace’s administration, the society depicted is one that is utterly controlled in all respects. No free-market is attested, and without a means of exchange, one could not exist. Was it possible to “run away to sea” and make a career through the sweat of one’s brow? All surplus produce is expropriated by the state machine, and the forces behind that machine are vague—at Pylos, there is the wanax (king?) bordering upon divine status; and more important yet, the high-priestess, who resides at a place called pa-ki-ja-ne, and holds more land than anyone else. Beneath them is an elite of personages, all feeding off the labour of the “servants”, “slaves” and other categories of persons. The priesthood is squatting on the shoulders of the people. Marx could have written volumes about it, and perhaps Lenin had a hand in the catastrophe that followed. Such a life would be intolerable, and furthermore, there is the shadow of something more unpleasant yet.
(Kn02)
[Possibly a calendar of ceremonies for ten days of a Pylos month, or a record of a series of processions occurring on the same day.] (1st) PYLOS: perform a certain action at the (shrine) of Poseidon and … the town, and bring the gifts and bring those to carry them. One gold cup, two women … (2nd) PYLOS: perform a certain action at the (shrines) of the Dove-goddess and of Iphimedeia and of Diwja, and bring the gifts and bring those to carry them. To the Dove-goddess: one gold bowl, one woman. To Hermes … : one gold cup, one man. [Similar gifts to Zeus, Hera, and to Drimos, the priest of Zeus.] [From the second series.] (1st) … To the Mistress: one gold cup, one woman. [Gifts of cups and women to Mnasa, Posidaeia, the ‘thrice-hero’, the ‘lord of the house’.] (Translation: Ventris and Chadwick.) |
Chadwick took this as proof that ritual human sacrifice was intended. Some scholars translate a key Mycenaean term po-re-na from the above text directly by “sacrificial victims”, because it indicates that the persons were girded with wool fillets used at times for sacrificial animals; such a translation makes the point utterly ambiguous but is warmly disputed. Yet to say that there are many explanations for what the “gift” of “one woman” and “one man” might mean does not make it certain that human sacrifice was not practised. The other significant feature of this list is the citation of names of the gods and goddesses, some of which are members of the much later Olympian pantheon—Poseidon, Zeus, Hera and Hermes, and others belonging to Mycenaean theology dropped out of later theology—Diwja, Mnasa, Posidaeia—while one, Iphimedeia, was later “downgraded” to the status of mother of giants. Drimos in the above is said to be “the priest of Zeus”, while others call him “son of Zeus”, making Drimos conceptually into a name of Dionysus. The suggestion “Dove-goddess” implicates Aphrodite.
If all the above shows that the Linear B tablets do not prove that Mycenaean Greece was a patriarchy—what then “proves” that Mycenaean Greece was a developed matriarchy? The evidence derives from three sources: (1) the iconography, which (excepting arguably the point about human sacrifice) unambiguously exposes the Minoan theology and expresses the dominant social position of women; (2) the Linear B tablets themselves; and (3) Greek mythology, which I discuss in a later section.
The iconography attests that Mycenaean religion was nothing like the “Olympian religion” that Homer and Hesiod celebrate. This is a devastating point. If the two religions were nothing like, then what happened between the two periods to account for the change? Jane Ellen Harrison (Prolegomena to Greek Religion) did partially address the question and she posited a reformation of Greek religion to have taken place in the darkness.
It is useful to have a date for Homer. Hitherto, it has been usual to date Homer early, working before Hesiod, whom it is agreed was writing c.700. Here I adopt the view expressed by Burkert and elaborated upon by Martin L. West (The Date of the Iliad) that the Iliad was written after the fall of Egyptian Thebes in 667. My general reason for dating Homer late is that the earlier we place him, the greater the disconnection between Greek iconography and Greek ideology. Study of Greek imagery reveals that the Olympian religion took its finalised form only in the C6 (at the earliest); the reign of the “tyrant” Pisistratus at Athens (third period, 547—528) was decisive in this matter—it was the “golden age” of early Athenian culture. If we place Homer mid C8 then we have a huge discontinuity between the cultural effusion of the word and that of the icon. Furthermore, the cognitive structure of Hesiod is more “archaic” than that of Homer. There are specific details in Homer that strongly suggest that the final Homeric redaction took place between 667, when Egyptian Thebes was captured by the Assyrians, and 656 when it was recaptured by the Egyptians under Psamtik I. In the following passage (Iliad 9, 381—4) Achilles rejects the gifts offered by Agamemnon by way of reconciliation between them.
If all the above shows that the Linear B tablets do not prove that Mycenaean Greece was a patriarchy—what then “proves” that Mycenaean Greece was a developed matriarchy? The evidence derives from three sources: (1) the iconography, which (excepting arguably the point about human sacrifice) unambiguously exposes the Minoan theology and expresses the dominant social position of women; (2) the Linear B tablets themselves; and (3) Greek mythology, which I discuss in a later section.
The iconography attests that Mycenaean religion was nothing like the “Olympian religion” that Homer and Hesiod celebrate. This is a devastating point. If the two religions were nothing like, then what happened between the two periods to account for the change? Jane Ellen Harrison (Prolegomena to Greek Religion) did partially address the question and she posited a reformation of Greek religion to have taken place in the darkness.
It is useful to have a date for Homer. Hitherto, it has been usual to date Homer early, working before Hesiod, whom it is agreed was writing c.700. Here I adopt the view expressed by Burkert and elaborated upon by Martin L. West (The Date of the Iliad) that the Iliad was written after the fall of Egyptian Thebes in 667. My general reason for dating Homer late is that the earlier we place him, the greater the disconnection between Greek iconography and Greek ideology. Study of Greek imagery reveals that the Olympian religion took its finalised form only in the C6 (at the earliest); the reign of the “tyrant” Pisistratus at Athens (third period, 547—528) was decisive in this matter—it was the “golden age” of early Athenian culture. If we place Homer mid C8 then we have a huge discontinuity between the cultural effusion of the word and that of the icon. Furthermore, the cognitive structure of Hesiod is more “archaic” than that of Homer. There are specific details in Homer that strongly suggest that the final Homeric redaction took place between 667, when Egyptian Thebes was captured by the Assyrians, and 656 when it was recaptured by the Egyptians under Psamtik I. In the following passage (Iliad 9, 381—4) Achilles rejects the gifts offered by Agamemnon by way of reconciliation between them.
‘As for his gifts, I like them just as little as I like the man himself. Not if he offered me ten times or twenty times as much as he possesses or could raise elsewhere, all the revenues of Orchomenus or of Thebes, Egyptian Thebes, where the houses are stuffed with treasure, and through every one of their hundred gates two hundred warrior sally out with their chariots and horses; not if his gifts were as many as the grains of sand or the particles of dust, would Agamemnon win me over.’
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This passage illustrates the unique genius of ‘Homer’, who created it: the ideas are not stock at all, but incisive in their psychology and literary device, for Achilles will eventually accept the gifts of Agamemnon, having been brought by providence to understand himself better, and do battle with his own negative emotions, cunningly exposed here. As to date, it has been observed that Egyptian Thebes fell in 667, and that this could have acted as a stimulus for the reference. But I add here that the literary device used by Homer goes three times further, for Homer mentions not one but three famous cities that have been sacked and destroyed: Orchomenus in legend destroyed by Heracles and Amphitryon, Thebes destroyed by Argos in the Seven Against Thebes, and finally Egyptian Thebes, destroyed just recently by the Assyrians. It is an ironic reminder of the fate of Troy (Ilium) and echoes the themes of man is but a leaf in the hands of the gods and there is no power on earth that cannot fall from hubris. These are literary allusions to other past epics, the Minyad attributed to Prodicus the Phocaean (date uncertain), and the Theban Cycle, a series of lost C8 epic poems that include the Thebaid, occasionally attributed to Homer, and the Epigoni, sometimes attributed to Antimachus of Teos, who is said by Plutarch to have observed the eclipse of the sun in 753. On this basis, I conclude that Homer’s redaction of his own epic took place between 667 and 656, with a date closer to 667 to be preferred because of the topicality of the reference to the fall of Egyptian Thebes. But to further confirm this, I suggest a study of the words that Homer used for the legal relations of marriage would imply a late date. For example, the first reference in the Iliad to legal marriage is made by Agamemnon: “For certainly I prefer her [Cryseis] to Clytemnestra, my wedded wife, since she is not inferior to her, either in form or in stature, or in mind, or in any handiwork.” (Iliad, I, 113—115.) The term used here for “wedded wife” is kουριδίης (kouridies); it specifically denotes a legal relation to a woman distinct from and more binding to that of concubine, ἀλόχου (alόkhou, poetic, “partner of one’s bed, wife”). There is no knowledge in Linear B of any such legal relations, which must come late in the historical record, and may thereby assist the dating of Homer.
In Hesiod and Homer we see the Olympian religion at an early stage. The Olympian religion is a religion of twelve high gods subordinate to a king-god, Zeus, who represents divine providence, capable of overpowering all the other eleven taken together. Each of these eleven has a developed personality and can intervene in any human sphere, yet each is also associated with a department or function, such as Poseidon, god of the sea, or Hera, goddess of marriage. In neither Hesiod nor Homer do we see all these features; nor has the list of the twelve become fixed. Hesiod knows practically nothing specific about the Olympian gods, though the whole theme of his Theogony is the terrible struggle for succession between the Titans and Zeus, who is clearly identified as “father Zeus in Olympus”. The struggle takes place between “the deathless gods” and the “Titan gods” without reference to any action of the twelve Olympian gods except Zeus, who owes his victory mostly to the hundred-handed giants, the sons of Mother Earth, Cottus and Briareus; the participation of the twelve in this war was a later invention. Members of the subsequently established Olympic pantheon are referred to in formulaic terms, such as “Poseidon the earth holder who shakes the earth” and “Phoebus Apollo, and Artemis who delights in arrows”. The references are sparse, and Athena does not appear whatsoever. Hesiod holds the nine Muses, daughters of Zeus, in very high regard, but his highest praise among the goddesses is reserved for Hecate “whom Zeus the son of Cronos honoured above all.” She was not an Olympian, but from the Theogony she would appear second only to Zeus, and the current blessed incarnation of the Goddess. Hesiod, who is a promoter and worshipper of Zeus, is equally devoted to the Goddess, as Hecate, who is closely identified in Greek theology with Persephone, daughter of Demeter and goddess of the underworld. Hesiod demonstrates that a prerequisite to the emergence of a systematic theology of twelve Olympian gods, is a Zeus-theology—first the king, then the followers. The Zeus theology represents the emergence of a new divine order, but one could not even equate this in the thought of Hesiod with divine justice and providence—they are a blessing of heaven—Olympus—but for what, is not fully known. Hence, Hesiod represents Olympian religion in an early stage of formation.
Yet what Hesiod records is a terrible struggle in the cosmological succession myth—first one set of gods, the Titans, then another, the deathless gods—and between them a terrible war. Since the Titans owe their origin to Mother Earth, they are representatives of matriarchy; and they are associated too with practices that the Greeks later came to regard as “barbaric”, that is, as non-Greek customs—for Cronos, the Titan king-god, consumes his offspring; if he were a man, he would be a cannibal of his own children. The concrete blessing that Hesiod celebrates through the coming of the gods, and the thing that he does know, is the end of barbarism.
The theme of Homer’s Odyssey is the struggle between barbarism of the Cronos type, represented primarily, but not exclusively, by the Cyclops Polyphemus, and civilisation, represented by Odysseus. The Iliad represents another closely related theme—the struggle between Justice (Dike), represented by Zeus, and arbitrary fate, represented by the advocacy of the other gods in relation to their favourites. Homer draws out the moral condemnation of the Trojans, who begin by breaking their oath over the duel between Menelaus and Paris, and progressively dig themselves into a moral quagmire. The Trojans lose the war because they are the morally weaker party, and Zeus upholds justice, even sacrificing one of his own sons, Sarpedon, in the process. But Homer’s knowledge of the Olympian twelve is almost as hazy as that of Hesiod. It is significant, too, that in his work Apollo appears in the role of foil to Athena, as much the mainstay of the Trojans as Athena is that of the Greeks, and his identification with the arts, culture and reason is not known. He is a bringer of plague. It is in the C6 that the Olympian religion is more firmly established; Hesiod and Homer represent stages in the early development; each made significant personal contributions to it. But if the Olympian religion is so late coming, what then did it replace?
This brings us back to a discussion of the Minoan-Mycenaean culture. Here a reminder that we are dealing with not one period but two: the Minoan neo-palatial period, c.1600—c.1380; and the Mycenaean hegemony, c.1380—c.1200. The thesis is that the Minoan period was a matriarchy, while the Mycenaean period was a developed matriarchy. The difference is that the degree of female social power in the Minoan phase was greater than that in the Mycenaean phase; however, the Mycenaean phase remains a matriarchy of sorts, because (a) its theology is the same theology as that of Minoan Crete; (b) mythology indicates that descent was matrilineal, and the “monarchy” was selected from the female line of high priestesses; (c) women continued to predominate in social settings. The Linear B tablets belong to the Mycenaean phase and they illustrate the varied and important roles that men undertook in that phase and may convey the impression that only men were active, though this is immediately contradicted by such facts as (a) the infrequent mention of a patronymic and the fact that most children knew only their mothers; (b) the ability of women to hold land; and (c) the fact that the chief landowners are the goddess (“the Mistress”) and her (high) priestess. But we must now proceed to discuss the Minoan phase. I shall examine this under two aspects: (A) religion and (B) social power of women.
(A) Minoan Religion. One has the feeling that the fundamental nature of Minoan religion ought to be utterly beyond dispute. The principal feature of Minoan religion was established by its first systematic researcher, Arthur Evans, who identified only two deities, a “Great Goddess” and a “Boy God” who is subordinate to her. The religion has been called a “Dual Monotheism”. The cult involved fetishes (to be explained below) of tree and stone. That this is the correct interpretation of Minoan religion is followed here. A potentially legitimate issue that arises is whether there is any evidence for a plurality of goddesses, so let us approach this question first.
The “contradiction” between one goddess and many is framed in that system of cognition that I have dubbed Ionian consciousness. The Minoans were primitive materialists for whom there was no distinction between appearance and reality such as we make. This means that the Goddess can manifest herself in different ways in all things, there being no fundamental distinction in Minoan minds between animate and inanimate. Since the Minoans only represent their supreme deity as a goddess, then for them it is the Goddess who enters into every body, every mouth of all gods, all men, all cattle, all creeping things, everything that lives, and everything whatsoever. Therefore, She, the Goddess, has many names, and each of these may be regarded as epithets, that is attributes of Her. Hence, the monotheism of the Minoans is monotheism of concept. Conceptually, there is just a Goddess, and her subordinate consort, the “Boy God”. But the Goddess, Our Lady (Potnia, Desponia) may manifest as the Mistress of the Mountains (Cybele), as the Mistress of Animals (Artemis), as the Queen of Heaven (Urania, Athena), as Protectress (Hera), as Goddess of Childbirth (Eileithyia), as the Most Pure Barley Mother (Demeter, Ariadne), as the Maiden (Britomartis, Kore), as the Arouser of the Loins (Iphimedeia), as the Mother of the Race (Iphigenia), as the Dove Goddess (Aphrodite) and as the Bringer of Destruction or Queen of the Dead (Persephone), for “everything is full of gods” means at this stage “everything is full of Her”. Since the thought of men and women at this stage of religious cognition amounts to service of the Goddess through sacrifice in the hope of material and spiritual salvation through Her, the greater part of life is spent in trying to invoke her presence. The power of the spoken word and of ritual act go hand in hand, and at childbirth She is invoked as Eileithyia, on the threshing table as Demeter or Ariadne; always the same Goddess but invoked in different ways through her epithets or names. Furthermore, just as there is a goddess of barley and a mistress of animals, so the Goddess manifests herself to different localities: she is the goddess Sparta at Sparta, Delphyne at Delphi, Dione at Dodona, Nemea at Nemea, Mykene at Mycenae, Atthis in Attica, and so on.
In Minoan religion there is no evidence that the names of male gods represent different concepts other than that of the “Boy God”, who is called Adonis in the East, and in Greece, I take his fundamental archetype to be called Dionysus. Thus, in their original formulation, all the names of the gods that we see attested in Mycenaean documents—Dionysus, Zeus, Poseidon, Hermes, Ares and Hephaestus—as well as the larger catalogue attested in Greek mythology all began as incarnations of the “Boy God”. The whole point is aptly put by Axel Persson in his Religion of Greece in Prehistoric Times with whose interpretation of Minoan religion this pamphlet concurs.
In Hesiod and Homer we see the Olympian religion at an early stage. The Olympian religion is a religion of twelve high gods subordinate to a king-god, Zeus, who represents divine providence, capable of overpowering all the other eleven taken together. Each of these eleven has a developed personality and can intervene in any human sphere, yet each is also associated with a department or function, such as Poseidon, god of the sea, or Hera, goddess of marriage. In neither Hesiod nor Homer do we see all these features; nor has the list of the twelve become fixed. Hesiod knows practically nothing specific about the Olympian gods, though the whole theme of his Theogony is the terrible struggle for succession between the Titans and Zeus, who is clearly identified as “father Zeus in Olympus”. The struggle takes place between “the deathless gods” and the “Titan gods” without reference to any action of the twelve Olympian gods except Zeus, who owes his victory mostly to the hundred-handed giants, the sons of Mother Earth, Cottus and Briareus; the participation of the twelve in this war was a later invention. Members of the subsequently established Olympic pantheon are referred to in formulaic terms, such as “Poseidon the earth holder who shakes the earth” and “Phoebus Apollo, and Artemis who delights in arrows”. The references are sparse, and Athena does not appear whatsoever. Hesiod holds the nine Muses, daughters of Zeus, in very high regard, but his highest praise among the goddesses is reserved for Hecate “whom Zeus the son of Cronos honoured above all.” She was not an Olympian, but from the Theogony she would appear second only to Zeus, and the current blessed incarnation of the Goddess. Hesiod, who is a promoter and worshipper of Zeus, is equally devoted to the Goddess, as Hecate, who is closely identified in Greek theology with Persephone, daughter of Demeter and goddess of the underworld. Hesiod demonstrates that a prerequisite to the emergence of a systematic theology of twelve Olympian gods, is a Zeus-theology—first the king, then the followers. The Zeus theology represents the emergence of a new divine order, but one could not even equate this in the thought of Hesiod with divine justice and providence—they are a blessing of heaven—Olympus—but for what, is not fully known. Hence, Hesiod represents Olympian religion in an early stage of formation.
Yet what Hesiod records is a terrible struggle in the cosmological succession myth—first one set of gods, the Titans, then another, the deathless gods—and between them a terrible war. Since the Titans owe their origin to Mother Earth, they are representatives of matriarchy; and they are associated too with practices that the Greeks later came to regard as “barbaric”, that is, as non-Greek customs—for Cronos, the Titan king-god, consumes his offspring; if he were a man, he would be a cannibal of his own children. The concrete blessing that Hesiod celebrates through the coming of the gods, and the thing that he does know, is the end of barbarism.
The theme of Homer’s Odyssey is the struggle between barbarism of the Cronos type, represented primarily, but not exclusively, by the Cyclops Polyphemus, and civilisation, represented by Odysseus. The Iliad represents another closely related theme—the struggle between Justice (Dike), represented by Zeus, and arbitrary fate, represented by the advocacy of the other gods in relation to their favourites. Homer draws out the moral condemnation of the Trojans, who begin by breaking their oath over the duel between Menelaus and Paris, and progressively dig themselves into a moral quagmire. The Trojans lose the war because they are the morally weaker party, and Zeus upholds justice, even sacrificing one of his own sons, Sarpedon, in the process. But Homer’s knowledge of the Olympian twelve is almost as hazy as that of Hesiod. It is significant, too, that in his work Apollo appears in the role of foil to Athena, as much the mainstay of the Trojans as Athena is that of the Greeks, and his identification with the arts, culture and reason is not known. He is a bringer of plague. It is in the C6 that the Olympian religion is more firmly established; Hesiod and Homer represent stages in the early development; each made significant personal contributions to it. But if the Olympian religion is so late coming, what then did it replace?
This brings us back to a discussion of the Minoan-Mycenaean culture. Here a reminder that we are dealing with not one period but two: the Minoan neo-palatial period, c.1600—c.1380; and the Mycenaean hegemony, c.1380—c.1200. The thesis is that the Minoan period was a matriarchy, while the Mycenaean period was a developed matriarchy. The difference is that the degree of female social power in the Minoan phase was greater than that in the Mycenaean phase; however, the Mycenaean phase remains a matriarchy of sorts, because (a) its theology is the same theology as that of Minoan Crete; (b) mythology indicates that descent was matrilineal, and the “monarchy” was selected from the female line of high priestesses; (c) women continued to predominate in social settings. The Linear B tablets belong to the Mycenaean phase and they illustrate the varied and important roles that men undertook in that phase and may convey the impression that only men were active, though this is immediately contradicted by such facts as (a) the infrequent mention of a patronymic and the fact that most children knew only their mothers; (b) the ability of women to hold land; and (c) the fact that the chief landowners are the goddess (“the Mistress”) and her (high) priestess. But we must now proceed to discuss the Minoan phase. I shall examine this under two aspects: (A) religion and (B) social power of women.
(A) Minoan Religion. One has the feeling that the fundamental nature of Minoan religion ought to be utterly beyond dispute. The principal feature of Minoan religion was established by its first systematic researcher, Arthur Evans, who identified only two deities, a “Great Goddess” and a “Boy God” who is subordinate to her. The religion has been called a “Dual Monotheism”. The cult involved fetishes (to be explained below) of tree and stone. That this is the correct interpretation of Minoan religion is followed here. A potentially legitimate issue that arises is whether there is any evidence for a plurality of goddesses, so let us approach this question first.
The “contradiction” between one goddess and many is framed in that system of cognition that I have dubbed Ionian consciousness. The Minoans were primitive materialists for whom there was no distinction between appearance and reality such as we make. This means that the Goddess can manifest herself in different ways in all things, there being no fundamental distinction in Minoan minds between animate and inanimate. Since the Minoans only represent their supreme deity as a goddess, then for them it is the Goddess who enters into every body, every mouth of all gods, all men, all cattle, all creeping things, everything that lives, and everything whatsoever. Therefore, She, the Goddess, has many names, and each of these may be regarded as epithets, that is attributes of Her. Hence, the monotheism of the Minoans is monotheism of concept. Conceptually, there is just a Goddess, and her subordinate consort, the “Boy God”. But the Goddess, Our Lady (Potnia, Desponia) may manifest as the Mistress of the Mountains (Cybele), as the Mistress of Animals (Artemis), as the Queen of Heaven (Urania, Athena), as Protectress (Hera), as Goddess of Childbirth (Eileithyia), as the Most Pure Barley Mother (Demeter, Ariadne), as the Maiden (Britomartis, Kore), as the Arouser of the Loins (Iphimedeia), as the Mother of the Race (Iphigenia), as the Dove Goddess (Aphrodite) and as the Bringer of Destruction or Queen of the Dead (Persephone), for “everything is full of gods” means at this stage “everything is full of Her”. Since the thought of men and women at this stage of religious cognition amounts to service of the Goddess through sacrifice in the hope of material and spiritual salvation through Her, the greater part of life is spent in trying to invoke her presence. The power of the spoken word and of ritual act go hand in hand, and at childbirth She is invoked as Eileithyia, on the threshing table as Demeter or Ariadne; always the same Goddess but invoked in different ways through her epithets or names. Furthermore, just as there is a goddess of barley and a mistress of animals, so the Goddess manifests herself to different localities: she is the goddess Sparta at Sparta, Delphyne at Delphi, Dione at Dodona, Nemea at Nemea, Mykene at Mycenae, Atthis in Attica, and so on.
In Minoan religion there is no evidence that the names of male gods represent different concepts other than that of the “Boy God”, who is called Adonis in the East, and in Greece, I take his fundamental archetype to be called Dionysus. Thus, in their original formulation, all the names of the gods that we see attested in Mycenaean documents—Dionysus, Zeus, Poseidon, Hermes, Ares and Hephaestus—as well as the larger catalogue attested in Greek mythology all began as incarnations of the “Boy God”. The whole point is aptly put by Axel Persson in his Religion of Greece in Prehistoric Times with whose interpretation of Minoan religion this pamphlet concurs.
Judging by all the evidences, the great Mother Goddess in Crete had been from the beginning a universal deity, the goddess of nature herself, like the Great Goddess in Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt. … Out of these two deities, the Great Goddess and the Boy God, there later developed a larger number of more or less distinct figures, which we meet with in Greek religious myths. In my opinion, their multiple variety depends to a very considerable degree on the different invocatory names, the epikleseis, of originally one and the same deity.
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Martin Nilsson represents a kind of critical voice against the interpretation of authors such as Evans, Axel Persson and Jacquetta Hawkes. But here, for the sake of brevity, I must make a summative judgement on the work of Nilsson in Minoan-Mycenaean Religion and its Survival in Greek Religion, and the reader is invited to study Nilsson for him or herself to verify or question the truth of it. While investigating a lot of the material evidence relating to Minoan Religion, Nilsson is forced to concede—it seems reluctantly—the main point—there was a Goddess, there was a “Boy God”, and the women were in charge. The critical points he does make seem very obscure to me—frankly, I don’t always understand them. Against the manifest evidence of the Minoan iconography, he strives to impose a patriarchal and Indo-European gloss. He severs Minoan Crete from the Asiatic Mainland, where he acknowledges such a universal Mother Goddess did exist and invents a new descent. He is not alone in this. Walter Burkert (Greek Religion) and Georges Dumézil (Archaic Roman Religion) represent the same bias, and it was the favoured interpretation of the Interwar period. On the issue of the Indo-European origin, Nilsson himself writes: “Frankly stated, our knowledge of the religion of the invading Greeks amounts almost to one word only … the name Zeus, which the Greeks share with the Indians and Romans…” (p.25) Observe the assumption that there were “invading Greeks”; “migrating Greeks” is better. But, since the historicity of a migration and fusion approximates to certainty, the Indo-European “Zeus” (Proto-Indo-European, Dyeus, Latin, Deus) was transformed on encounter with the original inhabitants of Greece into an instance of the ‘Boy God’, who was also the dying god, Dionysus. Zeus was said to have been born and to have died on Crete. It is a mistake to see Greek Olympian religion as a direct instance of Indo-European religion. Indo-European religion, if it ever was distinct, was first thoroughly submerged in the collective “Greek-Pelasgian” consciousness, which adhered to the religion of the Goddess of the Mediterranean and Near East, and from thence Greece followed a religious development unique to itself.
Tinia, Etruscan, Firenzuola, C5.
The Etruscan sky-god is the equivalent of Greek Zeus. As consort of Uni, the Etruscan epiphany of the Goddess, this instance of the proto-Indo-European storm god illustrates the submergence of that archetype within matriarchal theology. Etruscan culture lagged Greek culture, and Etruria remained a developed matriarchy for longer, retaining marked matriarchal features even after Roman conquest. |
The proof of the “dual monotheism” of the Minoans is derived from the study of their iconography, and particularly of their seal stones and signet rings. It is usual when studying this iconography to mix-up the Mycenaean with the Minoan artefacts, for indeed, as to theology, they show one and the same concept, but there is a distinction in that in Mycenaean iconography we see the emergence of a cult of the warrior, the reverence of individual combat between warriors, the love of battle and chase, and these images do not appear in Minoan artefacts. This illustrates the distinction between the two periods as between matriarchy and developed matriarchy. A single instance of an image depicting a female figure in the position of apparent reverence surrounded by female or male worshipers could not be conclusive, but it is the sheer number of these images that justifies us in calling them “icons” and inferring directly from them the nature of their religion and theology. Surveying what the iconography as a whole tells us about the nature of their worship is conclusive. We see the Goddess in the place of central worship, saving those less frequent occasions when a male figure takes her place, where all commentators have agreed that in this the male figure is a subordinate double of the Goddess, her “Boy God” Dionysus, the primal Greek archetype of male consciousness. The interpretation is as follows: the Goddess represents the eternal divine force, that which is unalterable behind all phenomena, whether she is manifested on mountain-tops, within caves, within the sanctuaries of the palace, or in a domestic cult. As one of her most important manifestations she appears as the “Mistress of the Animals”, a divine feminine figure flanked by two symmetrically placed beasts, real or fantastic. Dionysus is the incarnation of the Spirit of Vegetation, a manifestation of a single year, or in some interpretations half-year. As in vegetation, he is born, he dies, and he is reborn. From the image of the rebirth of the Spiritus Vegetativus the worshippers derive their greatest hope of salvation. In and through the life, death and rebirth of Dionysus, through the sacrifice and resurrection of the Dying God, mankind hopes also for resurrection. Hence, while the Goddess is feared, revered, worshipped and loved, the ecstatic passion of religious love is experienced exquisitely in the cult of the Dying God, whose death is lamented by bitter tears beyond all grief, whose resurrection is rejoiced with a joy unequalled by any joy. Hence, also, in the iconography Dionysus can take the place of the Goddess and be depicted as “Master of the Animals”, but no commentator has mistaken him for the principal deity, or even as a member of a pantheon, a pantheon being a later concept belonging to the interface between matriarchy and patriarchy.
Some details are of great importance in a general survey. (1) The principal icon and symbol of the power of the Goddess comprises a representation of the Goddess flanked symmetrically by two animals. (2) The lion, of either sex, is always a representative of female power. The image of the Goddess flanked by two lions is a symbol of matriarchy. (3) The Lion Gate stands above the cyclopean entrance to the citadel of Mycenae, constructed c.1300. This image demonstrates that theologically Mycenae was a matriarchy; whatever the Linear B tablets show about the comings and goings of the men, according to this icon, they thought in their minds that they came and went for the sake of the Goddess. (4) Among the variants of the image of the Goddess, we see what is called aniconic representations—that is, She is represented as a column or pillar. By “aniconic” here is meant non-figurative. (I take an icon to denote an image with a religious signification; the term aniconic prevalent in the literature is unfortunate.) It seems likely that the incarnation of the Goddess was first experienced in aniconic (non-figurative) images—such as meteorites, pillars and wooden planks. Something about these would have suggested a divine origin; the meteorite falling from the sky is an obvious instance. Wooden planks may have been one stage on the way to figurative representation, for something about a plank invites the feeling of an unearthly presence, perhaps as a figure emerging from irregular shapes. This depiction developed in the iconography into an almost heraldic device, systematised by the icon of the pillar with two symmetrically placed beasts. It is an image of this kind that we see on the Lion Gate of Mycenae. (5) Another variant concerns the beasts; these may be any pair of animals, but the beast can also become a creature of imagination—a fantastic beast. Hence, we see the griffin, a creature with a bird’s head and beast’s body, and perhaps with wings. The griffin is always a symbol of the Goddess, and an indicator of a theological matriarchy. (6) The fantastic elements appear because the Goddess is a transcendent deity who manifests herself in life. Therefore, she belongs to what we term, “super-nature”. (7) The Goddess’s epiphany. It is clear from the iconography that the worshippers of the Goddess did have ecstatic experience of the Goddess, as in a vision, religious experience or manifestation. This ecstatic experience is associated with drugs and with cult practices. (8) The Goddess could also appear as a bird, and hence the many representations of her as bird, or in association with birds. Each bird species was an instance of the Goddess. Hence, the association of peacock with Hera, dove with Aphrodite and owl with Athena. This also accounts for the combination of bird imagery with animal imagery, as in the griffin. (9) It follows that the image of the sphinx, which depicts a human head, the haunches of a lion and sometimes the wings of a bird, is a complex representation of the Goddess, her power and epiphany. The head should be female primarily, and the body shown with developed breasts, which are also symbols of female sexual power. Erosion both in the physical and iconographic sense can sometimes depict the head ambiguously, and suppress the breasts, but the origin of the sphinx icon identifies it with the Goddess. (10) In some theologies, for example, in the complex Near-Eastern myth of Agdistis, ancient thinkers expressed their advanced notion that the primal deity was an androgyne, both male and female, and that some primal disruption had occurred to split this figure into a female (Cybele) and male (Attis) counterpart. However, even this attempt at a kind of gender-equality expresses the theological predominance of woman, since in the splitting it is the female part that becomes the Mother, both divine and terrible, and the male part that becomes her lover, consort, and dependent plaything. (11) Another question concerns the relations between the worship of the Goddess and the cult of the dead. It may appear that the two represent different cults, and that we see a theological divide. But the fertility religion binds the two cults together, for the “Boy God” is a Dying God; he dies and is reborn, like a plant. The cult of the Goddess is also a cult of the Dead, and the Goddess as Queen of Heaven is also Persephone as Queen of the Dead. The goddess of the underworld was particularly associated with snakes, so we have her manifestation as a “Snake Goddess”. Snakes associate with the dead because they emerge from holes in the ground and are chthonic animals. Because they shed their skin, they appear to undergo death and rebirth. In primitive materialism, just as the soul is a material part, so the dead inhabit a physical region—they are thought to live in tombs, migrate to Western isles or to live in the ground. Hence, at the end of winter, when nature is re-awoken, the dead also come back to life, and emerge from their pot-holes. This reawakening of the dead posed a terrible threat to the living, for the dead also need to feed on blood and other offerings, and if disturbed for some reason, for example, as ghosts of men killed in some sacrilegious way, they could become angry spirits that haunt and plague the land. They could bring famine and ruin. Therefore, the spirits of the dead, and particularly angry spirits, needed to be appeased by blood sacrifices. But the dead could be useful too, for they could provide guidance and information to the living. Hence, they also became oracles, and there were rituals for the invocation of the dead, such as we see in the visit Odysseus makes to the Underworld. There is a distinction in later Greek concepts between games held for a funeral and games held for fertility rites. The view adopted here is that of Persson, who argues that funeral games originate in fertility rites: “It has been customary to connect the origin of the agones [games] with “Leichenspiele” or “Funeral games”; it is my opinion that these in turn go back to purely religious games of the kind we meet with here [Cretan Bull Games], which are closely connected with fertility rites. Such rites, as we know, have much in common with funeral rites.” (The Religion of Greece in Prehistoric Times). (12) A “fetish” is defined as “an object worshipped for its perceived magical powers” (Chambers). The Minoans primarily had fetishes in this sense of columns (stones) and trees. The “triple shrine” at Knossos was a chamber in which “Two sacred columns stood in the side chambers, and a fifth in the middle.” Jacquetta Hawkes, who thus describes the chamber (Dawn of the Gods) tells us that judging “from the model represented by tiny gold plaques from the Shaft Graves at Mycenae, there would have been pairs of horns of consecration in front of the columns and also on the roofs.” This arrangement exemplifies the symmetric flanking iconography of the Minoans in its most aniconic and “abstract” formation, with pairs of columns taking the place of flanking animals or griffins of other representations. This points directly to the invocatory rites of the Minoans, the practice of calling “down” the Goddess into her sacred column; her epikleseis. It seems that an abstract representation of the Goddess as a column was a more effective vehicle for the projection of her presence than a figurative one. (13) The renown symbols of Minoan culture, the horns of consecration, the double axe (labyrs), and the bull-icon, are all symbolic representatives of the Goddess. (14) The tree cult or fetish should be explained as an epikleseis of Dionysus, the “Boy God.” Persson summarises the point.
It has long since been agreed that the vegetation cycle must have had some great significance in the Cretan religion. Some scholars have maintained from the very beginning that in the Minoan religion we have a great nature goddess and her male partner. Scholars have also been tempted to find in the great nature goddess of Crete many characteristics of the great nature goddess of the Near East whom we know by the name of Cybele, later known, in Roman civilization, as Magna Mater. Her male partner is therefore naturally comparable with Attis. It is also established that these deities appear aniconically in the tree [Attis, Adonis, Dionysus] and in the stone, the baetyl [Cybele, Great Mother, Goddess].
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Here I have added for clarity in square brackets the identifications between the aniconic image and the corresponding deities. When we talk of the “survival of Minoan religion” in later Greek religion, we are talking primarily of the continuation of this Dionysus archetype and of the archetype of the Goddess. The life, death and rebirth of Dionysus-Attis is the fundamental mythologem (a term I will clarify below) of ancient civilizations; this can be inferred, because it appears everywhere. It has what we identify as “utilitarian” provenance: “The phenomena of nature, thus [in the Attis, Adonis, Osiris myth] interpreted and represented mystically, were the great seasonal changes—above all, the death and renewal of vegetation. The purpose of the cult practices was to strengthen the declining strength of nature through sympathetic magic in order that the trees should bear fruit, the seeds ripen, and men and animals perpetuate their kind.” (Persson, The Religion of Greece in Prehistoric Times.) Since this mythologem involves the ritual death of the tree-spirit, and the attempt to promote fertility by sympathetic magic it must invite a discussion of whether at one time the Minoans did ritually kill an incarnate Dionysus as in human sacrifice. All mythology points in this direction.
In all this I am primarily drawing out the salient points on the character of Minoan religion that have always been agreed by every scholar who considered the question; I take Persson’s monograph as seminal. Nilsson’s work is not an exception to this rule. As for the general pattern of thinking and the role of sympathetic magic and fetish, it was long ago laid down by J.G. Frazer, and subsequently ignored.
It is usual in the literature not to make a large distinction between iconography that is from the Minoan period of dominance (c.1600—1380), and that from the Mycenaean period of dominance (c.1380—1200). It is likely there is a common theological background of Gaiaism operating throughout both periods. But there are distinctions: (a) in the Mycenaean period we see images of men in combat and in chase, as well as women. (b) The Mycenaean frescoes have been described as derivative from Minoan frescoes and of such low artistic quality that they could be called “wallpaper”. This suggests a decrease in the religious fervour that accompanied the imagery—an implication of “1oss of faith”. (c) The stock depictions in Myceneaean art of bull-leaping sports, so passionate in Minoan frescoes, have suggested to many observers that the Mycenaeans did not practice such sports. The imagery is therefore consistent with an increased participation of men in society, that the Minoan period was a matriarchy proper, whereas the Mycenaean period was a developed matriarchy, that is, a social structure in which men, still theologically deriving power from the female principle, operate at all levels of society on terms nearing to equality. I postulate, therefore, a rise between the two periods of a culture of “masculinism”, the counterpart of the “feminism” of contemporary times.
The Linear B tablets all belong to the Mycenaean phase, but as those belonging to Pylos come from the time of its destruction, c.1200, there is a gap of about one hundred years between the Knossos tablets and those of Pylos. Hence, we may ask whether the interval suggests any changes in religion between the two. This question has been raised before with inconclusive results, but here I make some suggestions of my own. (a) In both sets of tablets, we see a great preponderance of female deities over male deities. In the famous tablet (Kn02, Tn316) cited above (page 9), the one with the hints of human sacrifice, we see a dove-goddess, Iphimedeia, Diwja, Hera, the Mistress (of pa-ki-ja-ne), Mnasa, and Posidaeia. On the other hand, we see only Poseidon, Hermes and Zeus among the male gods, and these are names of the “Boy-God” attested in classical mythology. That is a count of 7 goddesses to 3 male gods. (In other Pylos tablets, Artemis and Demeter may also be attested.) Drimios is uncertain—priest or god—and the “thrice hero” and “lord of the house” suggest heroes or demi-gods rather than gods. (b) We perhaps see the emergence of hero-worship. Hero-worship is only attested as arising in the C8 towards the end of the Dark Age, but there is just a hint here of an antecedent. Iphimedeia, on the other hand, appears as a goddess in her own right. (c) Through all the tablets the “Lady”, Potnia, appears most of all, and in many associations; we have met Potnia of the chief shrine of Pylos, pa-ki-ja-ne, but there at least five other shrines mentioned each with a Potnia. (d) There is a tendency in the Pylos tablets to associate a male god with a female goddess, and there is even a hint that the female counterpart is a derivative of the male, though this is probably not warranted and may be a backward projection of patriarchy. Specifically, we have Zeus and Diwia, Zeus and Hera, and Poseidon and Posidaeia. This pairing suggests that a division of theological power may have matched a division of social power. Indeed, as is well known, there was only one throne at Knossos, but at Pylos two throne-rooms have been reported (by Jacquetta Hawkes). In the absence of any definite evidence to the contrary, the throne at Knossos, which predates the period of Mycenaean dominance, must be thought of as occupied by a woman. The two thrones at Pylos (if there were two) were possibly occupied by one of either sex. (e) I suggest there is a hint that the religious configuration at Knossos has a more “archaic” character—we meet there other deities and functionaries such as the “Priestess of the Winds”, Eileithyia (Goddess of child-birth), and the Erinys, as well as Athana, which Robert Graves suggests derives from an inversion of Sumerian Anatha, Queen of Heaven, but a powerful name of the Goddess regardless. The “Winds” are taken to be male gods by most commentators, but there is no evidence for this. The religious power devolved upon the Priestess of the Winds cannot have been trivial in a maritime power that depended for its prosperity on trade. It is a belief in primitive materialism that through sympathetic magic the winds can be controlled. In classical times, Empedocles claimed to be a weather-worker. The evidence from the Linear B tablets supports the thesis of developed matriarchy and suggests an evolution between the earlier and the later tablets, as in increased male equality. (f) The title “Poseidon” may be an indicator of this increased power. This name has been suggested by Kerényi to mean, “capable husband of the goddess Da,” where “Da” is a form of “Ge” = Mother Earth. Although this reading has been attacked by Chadwick as not proven and “circular” reasoning, if we are allowed to read “Poseidon” as “capable husband”, as I believe we are, then this is strong confirmation of the basic interpretation presented here that Mycenaean Greece was a developed matriarchy.
(B) Social power of women. There is not a single fresco from either a Minoan or Mycenaean palace that does not attest to the social dominance of women. The evidence of the iconography is overwhelming. Perhaps the single best statement of this comes from the reconstruction displayed in the British Museum of a miniature fresco from which the sacred grove and dance frescoes are fragments: female spectators, in a welter, watch women dancing; they are seated around a shrine with the aniconic (non-figurative) image of the Goddess—a double column flanked by two lower columns. The women at the centre wear elaborate “court” dress, indicative of their social power. A fresco from the cult-centre at Mycenae shows a cloaked female figure with a sword. She faces another woman who holds a staff. Between them there are two, very small, naked male figures; the size convention deployed throughout the ages demonstrates the distinction between the worshipped Goddess and the worshippers. The image also shows another standing woman, two columns, the horns of consecration and a griffin. And so, it goes on. I cannot think of a single image from this epoch that depicts a man in an unambiguous position of power. There is the famous “Priest-King” icon from Knossos—this appellation is another backward projection of patriarchy; though this may depict the “Boy-God”, the delightful figure, seemingly unconsciously “one” with nature, is without connection to a symbol of social power. That the Minoans extolled and worshipped the beauty of nature cannot be doubted; their depictions of flowers and animals attest to it. Images of men seem presented for female regard; the so called “Boxing children” from Akrotiri on the island of Thera is an example; they suggest to me young men, as opposed to boys, performing. Against the cumulative weight of the evidence of all this imagery it is difficult to see how one can impose a patriarchal structure upon the society that made them.
It is usual in the literature not to make a large distinction between iconography that is from the Minoan period of dominance (c.1600—1380), and that from the Mycenaean period of dominance (c.1380—1200). It is likely there is a common theological background of Gaiaism operating throughout both periods. But there are distinctions: (a) in the Mycenaean period we see images of men in combat and in chase, as well as women. (b) The Mycenaean frescoes have been described as derivative from Minoan frescoes and of such low artistic quality that they could be called “wallpaper”. This suggests a decrease in the religious fervour that accompanied the imagery—an implication of “1oss of faith”. (c) The stock depictions in Myceneaean art of bull-leaping sports, so passionate in Minoan frescoes, have suggested to many observers that the Mycenaeans did not practice such sports. The imagery is therefore consistent with an increased participation of men in society, that the Minoan period was a matriarchy proper, whereas the Mycenaean period was a developed matriarchy, that is, a social structure in which men, still theologically deriving power from the female principle, operate at all levels of society on terms nearing to equality. I postulate, therefore, a rise between the two periods of a culture of “masculinism”, the counterpart of the “feminism” of contemporary times.
The Linear B tablets all belong to the Mycenaean phase, but as those belonging to Pylos come from the time of its destruction, c.1200, there is a gap of about one hundred years between the Knossos tablets and those of Pylos. Hence, we may ask whether the interval suggests any changes in religion between the two. This question has been raised before with inconclusive results, but here I make some suggestions of my own. (a) In both sets of tablets, we see a great preponderance of female deities over male deities. In the famous tablet (Kn02, Tn316) cited above (page 9), the one with the hints of human sacrifice, we see a dove-goddess, Iphimedeia, Diwja, Hera, the Mistress (of pa-ki-ja-ne), Mnasa, and Posidaeia. On the other hand, we see only Poseidon, Hermes and Zeus among the male gods, and these are names of the “Boy-God” attested in classical mythology. That is a count of 7 goddesses to 3 male gods. (In other Pylos tablets, Artemis and Demeter may also be attested.) Drimios is uncertain—priest or god—and the “thrice hero” and “lord of the house” suggest heroes or demi-gods rather than gods. (b) We perhaps see the emergence of hero-worship. Hero-worship is only attested as arising in the C8 towards the end of the Dark Age, but there is just a hint here of an antecedent. Iphimedeia, on the other hand, appears as a goddess in her own right. (c) Through all the tablets the “Lady”, Potnia, appears most of all, and in many associations; we have met Potnia of the chief shrine of Pylos, pa-ki-ja-ne, but there at least five other shrines mentioned each with a Potnia. (d) There is a tendency in the Pylos tablets to associate a male god with a female goddess, and there is even a hint that the female counterpart is a derivative of the male, though this is probably not warranted and may be a backward projection of patriarchy. Specifically, we have Zeus and Diwia, Zeus and Hera, and Poseidon and Posidaeia. This pairing suggests that a division of theological power may have matched a division of social power. Indeed, as is well known, there was only one throne at Knossos, but at Pylos two throne-rooms have been reported (by Jacquetta Hawkes). In the absence of any definite evidence to the contrary, the throne at Knossos, which predates the period of Mycenaean dominance, must be thought of as occupied by a woman. The two thrones at Pylos (if there were two) were possibly occupied by one of either sex. (e) I suggest there is a hint that the religious configuration at Knossos has a more “archaic” character—we meet there other deities and functionaries such as the “Priestess of the Winds”, Eileithyia (Goddess of child-birth), and the Erinys, as well as Athana, which Robert Graves suggests derives from an inversion of Sumerian Anatha, Queen of Heaven, but a powerful name of the Goddess regardless. The “Winds” are taken to be male gods by most commentators, but there is no evidence for this. The religious power devolved upon the Priestess of the Winds cannot have been trivial in a maritime power that depended for its prosperity on trade. It is a belief in primitive materialism that through sympathetic magic the winds can be controlled. In classical times, Empedocles claimed to be a weather-worker. The evidence from the Linear B tablets supports the thesis of developed matriarchy and suggests an evolution between the earlier and the later tablets, as in increased male equality. (f) The title “Poseidon” may be an indicator of this increased power. This name has been suggested by Kerényi to mean, “capable husband of the goddess Da,” where “Da” is a form of “Ge” = Mother Earth. Although this reading has been attacked by Chadwick as not proven and “circular” reasoning, if we are allowed to read “Poseidon” as “capable husband”, as I believe we are, then this is strong confirmation of the basic interpretation presented here that Mycenaean Greece was a developed matriarchy.
(B) Social power of women. There is not a single fresco from either a Minoan or Mycenaean palace that does not attest to the social dominance of women. The evidence of the iconography is overwhelming. Perhaps the single best statement of this comes from the reconstruction displayed in the British Museum of a miniature fresco from which the sacred grove and dance frescoes are fragments: female spectators, in a welter, watch women dancing; they are seated around a shrine with the aniconic (non-figurative) image of the Goddess—a double column flanked by two lower columns. The women at the centre wear elaborate “court” dress, indicative of their social power. A fresco from the cult-centre at Mycenae shows a cloaked female figure with a sword. She faces another woman who holds a staff. Between them there are two, very small, naked male figures; the size convention deployed throughout the ages demonstrates the distinction between the worshipped Goddess and the worshippers. The image also shows another standing woman, two columns, the horns of consecration and a griffin. And so, it goes on. I cannot think of a single image from this epoch that depicts a man in an unambiguous position of power. There is the famous “Priest-King” icon from Knossos—this appellation is another backward projection of patriarchy; though this may depict the “Boy-God”, the delightful figure, seemingly unconsciously “one” with nature, is without connection to a symbol of social power. That the Minoans extolled and worshipped the beauty of nature cannot be doubted; their depictions of flowers and animals attest to it. Images of men seem presented for female regard; the so called “Boxing children” from Akrotiri on the island of Thera is an example; they suggest to me young men, as opposed to boys, performing. Against the cumulative weight of the evidence of all this imagery it is difficult to see how one can impose a patriarchal structure upon the society that made them.
Female charioteer
Based upon a fresco from the citadel of Tiryns, C13, this figure illustrates the social prominence of woman in Mycenaean society. In the original two women are driving a chariot as part of a larger hunting scene. Their unblemished white skin contrasts with the red colour of their male attendants, who proceed on foot. |
We should also reference the mass of female figurines. Another point concerns the dress of men and women, which Jacquetta Hawkes has described so effectively. She writes of “a startling contrast between the minimal dress of the men, who appear naked except for a penis sheath, and the voluminous clothing of the women in full bell skirts and bulky hats and head-dresses.” She observes that the dress is “a frank encouragement of sexuality”—with the “frontless jacket,” and tells us that “big breasts were … admired in Minoan Crete.” Men are shown with emphasis “on the narrow waist (enhanced by a massive metal belt) and on the codpiece or penis sheath—a combination at least as provocative as the revelations and concealments of the women.” (Dawn of the Gods, Chapter 3.) In addition to the encouragement to fornication, the “frontless jackets” of the women which project their bare breasts and nipples at male (and female) regard could be interpreted as an “aggressive” sexual display of social dominance. From the imagery, men in Mycenaean as opposed to Minoan representations wear more clothes, which is consonant with the thesis of emergent male equality.
Scene from the cult-centre
Mycenae, c.1300
Mycenae, c.1300
Sufficient fragments of the original survive for the icon to be reconstructed. The size of the suspended male figures, here enlarged, relative to the standing female figures stresses the importance of the females, who both hold symbols of power. Their sexual power is aggressively emphasised in the size of their breasts. As three of the figures are turned towards the female on our left, this left-figure is an icon of the highest power, the Goddess; the figure on the right is her priestess. The Goddess of fertility, adored by men, is also the Goddess of war.
Let us look at the written evidence from the Dark Age itself. The Journey of Wen-Amon to Phoenicia (in James B. Pritchard, The Ancient Near East) is a hard-luck first-person narrative of an official of the Temple of Amon at Karnak journeying to the Phoenician port of Byblos to procure lumber for the ceremonial barge of the god. The story, told with ironic humour, describes the troubled conditions where trust has broken down, one can be cheated and bullied, and where piracy is rampant. Finally, he gets his timber, and the story continues.
So he [the Prince] loaded me in and he sent me away from there at the harbour of the sea. And the wind cast me on the land of Alashiya [Cyprus]. And they of the town came out against me to kill me, but I forced my way through them to the place where Heteh, the princess of the town was. I met her as she was going out of one house of hers and going into another of hers.
So I greeted her, and I said to the people who were standing near her: “Isn’t there one of you who understands Egyptian?” And one of them said: “I understand (it).” So I said to him: “Tell my lady that I have heard as far away as Thebes, the place where Amon is, that injustice is done in every town but justice is done in the land of Alashiya. Yet injustice is done here every day!” |
Wen-Amon then presents his plea to the Queen, which she acknowledges; she gives him shelter and the implication is that he gets home safely, for how otherwise could he write about it so eloquently? This story is attributed to the early Twenty-first Dynasty, the C11—that is, it comes from the period just following the eye of the storm that swept away up to 90% of the population of the civilized world in the Near East. Cyprus (Alashiya) is counted from archaeological evidence to have been a refuge site for Mycenaeans fleeing from that storm on the Greek mainland. The troubled times are clearly identified in the story—it is a story of double-dealing and brigandage; the life of Wen-Amon is under constant threat. We see that “injustice is done in every town” except, flatteringly, in this unidentified town of Cyprus, but now complaining, and even here. A general breakdown of “law-and-order” with roving brigands and piracy is pictured. And there, in the middle of this storm, is a powerful Queen, with many houses, to whom Wen-Amon can plead for justice, and if the conversation were conducted in or translated into Mycenaean Greek, she would be called--Potnia—“My Lady!”
After this significant instance—a Queen rather than a King—there is other evidence from the oral tradition recorded by Homer. The Odyssey is all about the encounters of a wandering hero who comes time after time to barbarous places where the inhabitants try to make a meal of him and his followers, and often succeed with the followers. The civilised but notwithstanding dangerous places where he finds haven are associated with female power: Calypso, Circe and the city of the Phaeacians. Circe is an interesting case, for it seems that if Odysseus were not given divine aid, and Circe not mastered by love, she would turn him into a pig, and put him with the rest of the swine, just like his unfortunate companions. She is a potent symbol of female power, and one that must be accounted for—the obvious interpretation being that at some time in the past women really did have social power, acknowledged by Homer, though he was a fervent advocate of patriarchy. More instructive yet is Homer’s depiction of the country of the Phaeacians, because there, while there is a king, Alcinous, there is also a queen, Arete, and the reader may affirm for him or herself that she is the one with the greater power. If their house had more than one room, and if they sat on thrones, then we might confidently expect two throne rooms, just as at Pylos. The text says that they had polished thrones of silver, and Odysseus is invited to sit in one of them. He is also offered the succession to the kingship by marriage to the princess Nausicaa, a clear indication of matrilineal succession. The Phaeacian state is a developed matriarchy.
This dual division of power between men and women, between wanax and wanasa, is firmly attested in Athenian tradition, which recorded that in the archaic period the Mycenaean palace on the Acropolis was still standing; it was called the Erechtheum and was itself built upon the tomb of an earlier legendary king of Athens, Cecrops. The palace was the place of worship of Poseidon Erechtheus and Athena Polias. For “Polias” we might easily substitute “Potnia”, “Our Lady”. That there was but one palace is attested in Homer (Odyssey 8. 81). Both Cecrops and Erechtheus are “children of Earth” and are half man, half serpent. The serpent image associates with the Goddess, matriarchy and death. That they are called “Children of Earth” (Iliad 2. 547—48) indicates that they are foundlings or offspring of the temple and are reared by the temple priestesses.
Minoan culture was a matriarchy, with a single queen, and Mycenaean culture was a developed matriarchy, in which there was a complex division of power between men and women of authority.
After this significant instance—a Queen rather than a King—there is other evidence from the oral tradition recorded by Homer. The Odyssey is all about the encounters of a wandering hero who comes time after time to barbarous places where the inhabitants try to make a meal of him and his followers, and often succeed with the followers. The civilised but notwithstanding dangerous places where he finds haven are associated with female power: Calypso, Circe and the city of the Phaeacians. Circe is an interesting case, for it seems that if Odysseus were not given divine aid, and Circe not mastered by love, she would turn him into a pig, and put him with the rest of the swine, just like his unfortunate companions. She is a potent symbol of female power, and one that must be accounted for—the obvious interpretation being that at some time in the past women really did have social power, acknowledged by Homer, though he was a fervent advocate of patriarchy. More instructive yet is Homer’s depiction of the country of the Phaeacians, because there, while there is a king, Alcinous, there is also a queen, Arete, and the reader may affirm for him or herself that she is the one with the greater power. If their house had more than one room, and if they sat on thrones, then we might confidently expect two throne rooms, just as at Pylos. The text says that they had polished thrones of silver, and Odysseus is invited to sit in one of them. He is also offered the succession to the kingship by marriage to the princess Nausicaa, a clear indication of matrilineal succession. The Phaeacian state is a developed matriarchy.
This dual division of power between men and women, between wanax and wanasa, is firmly attested in Athenian tradition, which recorded that in the archaic period the Mycenaean palace on the Acropolis was still standing; it was called the Erechtheum and was itself built upon the tomb of an earlier legendary king of Athens, Cecrops. The palace was the place of worship of Poseidon Erechtheus and Athena Polias. For “Polias” we might easily substitute “Potnia”, “Our Lady”. That there was but one palace is attested in Homer (Odyssey 8. 81). Both Cecrops and Erechtheus are “children of Earth” and are half man, half serpent. The serpent image associates with the Goddess, matriarchy and death. That they are called “Children of Earth” (Iliad 2. 547—48) indicates that they are foundlings or offspring of the temple and are reared by the temple priestesses.
Minoan culture was a matriarchy, with a single queen, and Mycenaean culture was a developed matriarchy, in which there was a complex division of power between men and women of authority.