Cultural Identity Within the Northern Black Sea Region in Antiquity: De-Constructing Past Identities (Colloquia Antiqua, 31) 9042944234, 9789042944237

Citation preview

Cultural Identity within the Northern Black Sea Region in Antiquity (De)constructing Past Identities

By Joanna Porucznik

PEETERS

CULTURAL IDENTITY WITHIN THE NORTHERN BLACK SEA REGION IN ANTIQUITY

COLLOQUIA ANTIQUA Supplements to the Journal ANCIENT WEST & EAST

SERIES EDITOR

GOCHA R. TSETSKHLADZE (UK) EDITORIAL BOARD

A. Avram (Romania/France), Sir John Boardman (UK), J. Hargrave (UK), M. Kazanski (France), A. Mehl (Germany), A. Podossinov (Russia), N. Theodossiev (Bulgaria), J. Wiesehöfer (Germany) ADVISORY BOARD

S. Atasoy (Turkey), L. Ballesteros Pastor (Spain), J. Bouzek (†) (Czech Rep.), S. Burstein (USA), J. Carter (USA), B. d’Agostino (Italy), J. de Boer (The Netherlands), A. Domínguez (Spain), O. Doonan (USA), A. Kuhrt (UK), J.-P. Morel (France), M. Pearce (UK), D. Potts (USA), A. Rathje (Denmark), R. Rollinger (Austria), A. Snodgrass (UK), M. Sommer (Germany), M. Tiverios (Greece), C. Ulf (Austria), J. Vela Tejada (Spain)

Colloquia Antiqua is a refereed publication

For proposals and editorial and other matters, please contact the Series Editor: Prof. Gocha R. Tsetskhladze The Gallery Spa Road Llandrindod Wells Powys LD1 5ER UK E-mail: [email protected]

COLLOQUIA ANTIQUA ————— 31 —————

CULTURAL IDENTITY WITHIN THE NORTHERN BLACK SEA REGION IN ANTIQUITY (De)constructing Past Identities

By

JOANNA PORUCZNIK

PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT

2021

A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN 978-90-429-4423-7 eISBN 978-90-429-4424-4 D/2021/0602/106 © 2021, Peeters, Bondgenotenlaan 153, B-3000 Leuven, Belgium No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval devices or systems, without prior written permission from the publisher, except the quotation of brief passages for review purposes.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Series Editor’s Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

VII

Preface and Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

IX

List of Illustrations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

XI

List of Abbreviations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

XV

CHAPTER 1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. The Northern Black Sea – Scope and Objectives. . . . . . . . . . . . 2. The Study of the Northern Black Sea Region – Past and Present 3. Rostovtzeff’s Iranians and Greeks – the Concept of Eurasian Unity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. The Northern Black Sea and the East. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

15 18

CHAPTER 2 Approaches to ethnicity and Greek identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. The Image of the ‘Other’ in Greek Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Greek Colonisation or Greek Settlements Overseas? . . . . . . . . 3. The Creation of a City’s Local Identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

25 29 36 49 62

CHAPTER 3 The Cultural Identity of the North Pontic Poleis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. The Origin of the Scythians (Herodotus 4. 8–10) . . . . . . . . . . . 2. The Cult of Local Heroes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Iphigenia in Tauris and the Cult of Parthenos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Ethnicity in Black Sea Society . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

65 68 77 83 91 113

CHAPTER 4 Greek Representations of the North Pontic Others . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. The Edges of the World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. The Cimmerians – People Wrapped in Mist and Cloud (Homer Odyssey 11. 15) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1 3 8

115 117 124

VI

TABLE OF CONTENTS

3. The Scythians and Common Clichés . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. The Taurians – Greek Representations and Archaeological Reality 5. The Sa(u)r(o)matians and Amazons – Ancient and Modern Misconceptions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

133 153 166 180

CONCLUSIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

183

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

191

Indexes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

217

SERIES EDITOR’S PREFACE

My long-term and continuing interest in the Black Sea, not least in its northern littoral, is well known, and it is a great pleasure to welcome this new study on the region. It derives from the author’s doctoral dissertation, but it is not simply the thesis made book. Likewise, while it adopts various theoretical perspectives, it has not been taken prisoner by them, though the trends it presents and the theoretical constructions are characteristic of modern Anglo-Saxon scholarship and reveal its partial roots there. In one place the author rightly remarks that Eastern European scholarship has eschewed postcolonial theory. We are nowadays much preoccupied with theories, categorisations, etc. Eastern European, primarily Soviet/Russian scholarship considers Archaeology as part of the broader discipline of History, and the main approach is historical and cultural, something reflected in the training of archaeologists in departments that fall within the History Faculty. Classical Archaeologists receive a broader training in Classical Studies, of which their discipline is deemed to form part. Theories come and go: one is in fashion for a few years but then forgotten, supplanted by another (whose trajectory will be similar). Currently in favour is the attempt to understand ancient societies through modern-day concepts – in one place the author mentions Coca Cola and the different reactions to it in different societies. Eastern European scholarship still seeks to understand ancient societies through the eyes of ancient people, echoing the once-common Anglo-Saxon empiricist approach to historical enquiry. It does not invent difficulties; it has no problem with the term ‘colonisation’, though fully aware that its meaning varies over time and between places. The present volume is principally historical, and it reflects modern developments in Ancient History in the West in contrast with Soviet/Russian approaches (but drawing these contrasts is only made possible through the author’s impressive knowledge of the Soviet/Russian bibliography). The book focuses on the Greek settlements of the northern Pontus, examined in terms of language, literature and education (rather than from a culture-historical point of view), how through self-definition the settlers and settlements constructed an identity (partly through local myth, partly by Greekness identified in contradistinction to the barbarian ‘Other’), and the mutability of ethnicity and ethnic composition. Its chronology is broad. In keeping with my own approach, both Eastern and Western European scholarship and publications are brought

VIII

SERIES EDITOR’S PREFACE

to bear on these questions. The author, based formerly at the University of Wrocław and now in Opole, both in Silesia (a region of contested cultural, linguistic, ethnic and political identity for many centuries), is very well qualified to undertake this investigation scholastically, geographically and linguistically. I am grateful as ever to Bert Verrept and his colleagues at Peeters, and to James Hargrave for his help with copy-editing and indexing. Gocha Tsetskhladze

PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book is based on my PhD thesis, which was completed and defended at the University of Wrocław in 2015 as part of the Polish-British Project The Eastern Mediterranean from the 4th Century BC until Late Antiquity. The project was carried out between 2011 and 2015 as part of the International PhD Projects Programme of the Foundation for Polish Science, co-financed by the European Union’s Regional Development Fund. My current research that resulted in finishing this book was supported by the National Science Centre (Poland) within the grant Greek City in the Hellenistic and Roman Age and the Territorial Powers, project No.UMO-2014/14/A/HS3/00132. In this respect, I would like to express my gratitude to the projects’ coordinator Krzysztof Nawotka for enabling me to participate in both of his projects, from which I have greatly benefited. I would also like to express my warmest thanks to my supervisors, Thomas Harrison and Gościwit Malinowski. Tom’s help during my time at the University of Liverpool (between 2011 and 2013) and the University of St Andrews (in 2017 and 2018) was invaluable and ensured that my stay there was enormously fruitful, and Gościwit could always be relied upon for advice regarding both practical and academic matters. A special thank-you is owed to Vladimir Stolba who kindly agreed to be my academic adviser during my research stays at Aarhus University between 2014 and 2017. Without his help, encouragement, stimulating comments and salutary criticism, this work would not have achieved its present form. Also, I want to express my gratitude to Gocha Tsetskhladze, the Series Editor, for his support for the publication of this study in Colloquia Antiqua. I am very grateful to my dear friend Lee Richards for helping me with the proof-reading of my work. His generosity and patience has greatly contributed to my understanding of the English language. Lastly, I am thankful to my family, to whom this book is dedicated, for their love and support during many years of my academic work. Joanna Porucznik

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Cover illustration: Horseman-shaped plaque. Kul-Oba Kurgan (excavations by P.A. Debrux, 1830). 4th century BC. Gold. Embossing, chasing, engraving. 4.6 × 3.8 cm. Inv. no. KO.-49. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Alexander Koksharov). Fig. 1. Drawing of the silver rhyton from the Karagodeuashkh Kurgan, Russia (after Rostovtzeff 1913, pl. I). Fig. 2. Sasanian rock relief at Naqsh-e-Rustam, Iran (after Rostovtzeff 1913, fig. 1). Fig. 3. Silver rhyton from the Seven Brothers Kurgan 4. Inv. no. SBr IV-3. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 4. Greek coins: 1. Drachm of Chersonesus with a representation of Heracles wearing a lion skin. Ca. 210–200 BC. Leu Auction, Auction 2 (11.05.2018), lot 67; 19 mm, 4.78 g. 2. Tetradrachm of Alexander the Great. 336–323 BC. Leu Auction, Web Auction 6 (9.12.2018), lot 73; 24 mm, 17.19 g. 3. Coin of Panticapaeum with a representation of a bearded Satyr and a griffin. Ca. 310–304/3 BC. Leu Auction, Web Auction 6 (9.12.2018), lot 203; 20 mm, 6.48 g. 4. Coin of Chersonesus with a representation of Parthenos wearing a corona muralis. Ca. 110–90 BC. Leu Auction, Auction 2 (11.05.2018), lot 68; 19 mm, 4.17 g. 5. Gold stater of Chersonesus with a representation of a male head (Obv.) and Parthenos (Rev.). AD 60. Leu Auction, Auction 3 (27.10.2018), lot 33; 19 mm, 7.78 g. 6. Drachm of Chersonesus with a representation of Parthenos. Ca. 210–200 BC. Leu Auction, Web Auction 2 (3.12.2017), lot 47; 18 mm, 3.94 g. Fig. 5. Statuette of Cybele. Necropolis of Panticapaeum. 3rd century AD. Terracotta. Inv. no. P.1910-145. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 6. Plaque in the shape of a winged female half-figure. Great Bliznitsa Kurgan. 4th century BC. Gold. Inv. no. BB.-49. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 7. Serpent-legged goddess. Kul-Oba Kurgan. Mid-4th century BC. Gold. Inv. no. KO-70. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

XII

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Fig. 8. Sarcophagus appliqué: serpent legged goddess. Necropolis of Panticapaeum. Second half of the 1st–first half of the 2nd century AD. Plaster. Inv. no. P.1919-13. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 9. Assemblage from the Kul-Oba Kurgan: a reconstruction with the arrangement of finds (after Fedoseev 2007, 1009, fig. 3). Fig. 10. Phiale from the Solokha Kurgan. Late 5th–early 4th century BC. Gold. Inv. no. Dn.1913-1/48. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 11. Schematic location of the inscriptions on the phiale from the Solokha Kurgan (after Mantsevich 1950, 227, fig. 9a). Fig. 12. Ceremonial vessel with Scythian warriors. Silver. Chased and gilded. 4th century BC. Chastye Kurgans, Kurgan no 3, Middle Don Basin, near Voronezh, Russia. Inv. no. Do.1911-1/11. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 13. Drawing of the silver vessel from the Voronezh Kurgan (after Raevskii 1977, 31). Fig. 14. Scenes on the vessel from the Voronezh Kurgan (after Raevskii 1977, 32). Fig. 15. Spherical vessel from the Kul-Oba Kurgan with relief depictions of Scythians. Electron. Chased. 400–350 BC. Inv. no. KO-11. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 16. Scenes on the vessel from the Kul-Oba Kurgan (after Raevskii 1977, 35). Fig. 17. Silver mirror from the Kelermes Kurgan. 7th century BC. Inv. no. Ku.1904-1/27. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 18. Detail of the mirror from the Kelermes Kurgan. Inv. no. Ku.1904-1/27. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 19. Tattoo motif of fantastic animals found on a mummified body in Kurgan 2 from Pazyryk. Ca. 400 BC (after Rudenko 1953, 309, fig. 177, and 311, fig. 180). Fig. 20. Kalathos headdress with a representation of combat between the Arimaspians/ Amazons and the griffins. Great Bliznitsa Kurgan. 4th century BC. Gold. Inv. no. BB.-49.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

XIII

The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 21. Attic red-figure pelike with a representation of Amazonomachy. Inv. no. KMAK-440 (photograph no. 1). Courtesy of the Eastern Crimean Historical and Cultural Preserve, Kerch. Fig. 22. Scythian settlements in the forest steppe zone (after Melyukova 1989, 323): 1, 14, 17 – Pastyrskoe; 2 – Mostishche; 3, 10, 16, 18, 18a, 20, 20a – Belskoe; 4 – Nemirovskoe; 5, 9, 12, 19 – Basovskoe; 6 – settlement near the village of Gorodishche; 7 – Matroninskoe; 8, 11 – Maritskoe; 13 – Voloshinskoe I; 15 – Dolinyany; 21, 21a – Lyubotinskoe. Fig. 23. Greek red-figure amphora, Munich. Inv. no. 2308. Courtesy of Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München (photograph by Renate Kühling). Fig. 24. François Vase, Attic black-figure volute krater, ca. 570 BC. Inv. no. 4209. Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Firenze. Courtesy of Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali, Polo Museale della Toscana, Florence. Fig. 25. Symposiast wearing a Scythian cap (on the left). Attic red-figure cup, ca. 480 BC. Inv. no. 3922. Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Firenze. Courtesy of Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali, Polo Museale della Toscana, Florence. Fig. 26. Scythian delegation. Apadana reliefs. Persepolis, Iran. Inv. no. P. 57061/N. 15264 (ps-74). Courtesy of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Fig. 27. Scythian stone steles (adapted from Olkhovskii 2004, 352, fig. 3): 1. Olkhovchik; 2. Erdelevka; 3. Ternovka. Fig. 28. Silver gilded vessel with a depiction of a lion hunt. Solokha Kurgan. Early 4th century BC. Inv. no. Dn.1913-1/40. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin). Fig. 29. Taurian sites in the Crimea (adapted from Khrapunov 2012, 65, fig. 18): 1. Koloski; 2. Urkusta; 3. Beloglinka; 4. Kholodnaya Ravine; 5. Karagach; 6. Ashlama-Dere; 7. Otar-Alan; 8. Cherkes-Kermen; 9. Uch-Bash; 10. Karan 2; 11. Mal-Muz; 12. Koshka; 13. Yalta sanctuary; 14. MAN cave; 15. Yeni-Sala 2; 16. Kizil-Koba; 17. Druzhnoye 1; 18. Shpil; 19. Druzhnoye 2; 20. Dzhapalakh; 21. Chuyuncha; 22. Ayvazovskoye; 23. Otvazhnoye; 24. Kapak-Tash. Fig. 30. Scythian grave of a young girl with weapons. Kurgan 13 near the village of Kapulovka. 4th century BC (after Il’inskaya and Terenozhkin 1983, 177). Fig. 31. Sanctuaries of Achilles: 1. Leuke; 2. Olbia; 3. Borysthenes (Berezan); 4. Race of Achilles (Tendra Spit); 5. Hylaia (Kinburn Peninsula); 6. Cape Hippolaos (Cape Stanislav); 7. Cape Beikush (adapted from Hupe 2006, Taf. 28).

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

ACSS

Ancient Civilizations from Scythia to Siberia.

AWE

Ancient West and East.

CIRB

V.V. Struve et al., Corpus inscriptionum regni Bosporani (Moscow/Leningrad 1965).

FGrHist

F. Jacoby, Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (Berlin/Leiden 1923– ).

IGDOlbia

L. Dubois, Inscriptions grecques dialectales d’Olbia du Pont (Geneva 1996).

IG

Inscriptiones Graecae (Berlin 1873– ).

I.Olbia

T.N. Knipovich and E.I. Levi, Inscriptiones Olbiae/Nadpisi Ol’vii (1917– 1965) (Leningrad 1968).

IOSPE I²

V.V. Latyshev, Inscriptiones orae septentrionalis Ponti Euxini Graece et Latine. I: Inscriptiones Tyrae, Olbiae, Chersonesi Tauricae aliorum locorum a Danubio usque ad Regnum Bosporanum, 2nd ed. (Petrograd 1916).

LGPN

P.M. Fraser and E. Matthews, A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names (Oxford/ New York 1987–2010).

LIMC

Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae (Zurich/Munich 1981–99).

LSAM

F. Sokolowski, Lois sacrées d’Asie Mineure (Paris 1955).

RE

Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft (Stuttgart 1893–1980).

SEG

Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum.

SNG

Sylloge Nummorum Graecorum.

SovA

Sovetskaya Arkheologiya.

VDI

Vestnik Drevnei Istorii.

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

Since ancient times one of the perceived geographical boundaries between Europe and Asia (the West and East) was located in the northern Black Sea region; the border being marked by the Cimmerian Bosporus, the River Tanais (see Hecataeus FGrHist 1 F 195; Herodotus 4. 45) and Lake Maeotis.1 Such a division between Asia and Europe is still visible in our perception of the border between these two continents today.2 Thus, the North Pontic shores appear as a meeting place of both the Eastern and Western worlds that were persistently conceptualised not only in Greek thought but also in modern times, which is visible in such works as L. Gumilev’s Rhythms of Eurasia.3 The region to the north of the northern Black Sea coast defined the limit of the oikoumene, which had an important impact on how this region and its non-Greek population were perceived and conceptualised in Greek tradition on a wider Panhellenic level through the conscious use of ethnic stereotypes and literary topoi. When the Greeks started to inhabit this region, a distinctive local community developed that encompassed Greek and non-Greek inhabitants who created what M.I. Rostovtzeff called a ‘community of race’, or a hybrid society as we tend to call it today.4 Newly established communities developed their own identity that was based on a shared experience of migration and a conceptual link with the new territory. Additionally, this identity was further enhanced as a result of the administrative, economic and political relationships that the community enjoyed with the rural and steppe territories. This led to the development of a local cultural identity among the inhabitants of the northern Black Sea poleis, a process that will be examined and discussed extensively in this book. A broad chronological perspective used in the study will explain the complex process of the creation of local identities in Greek apoikiai, which is examined by thoroughly analysing the self-definition of the citizens. As will be shown in this study, the self-definition of Black Sea poleis was expressed 1

See Ps.-Hippocrates AWP 13. For the borders between Europe and Asia, see E. Hall 1987,

431. 2 3 4

For modern geographical conceptions, see Lewis and Wigen 1997. Gumilev 1993. Rostovtzeff 1913, 11; see also King 2004, 33–34.

2

CHAPTER 1

through local myths and cults, their connection to a wider Panhellenic tradition and their relationship with the local ‘Others’, whose imaginary view was an integral part of the Greek ‘barbarian repertoire’ that was creatively used in Greek literature, poetry, theatre and art. The study of the North Pontic region has for many years been carried out by Eastern European scholars (with rare exceptions such as E.H. Minns’s Scythians and Greeks5) who artificially divided the region between the barbarian world and the civilised Greek world that was centred upon the Greek poleis. This was closely intertwined with how ethnicity was perceived by Eastern European anthropologists and archaeologists, namely as a historically and geographically defined monolith. This culture-history approach, which originated in Marxist theory, had a great impact on how social relationships in this region were studied over many decades. As a result, academic discussions were often devoted to the problems surrounding the ‘barbarisation’ of Greek poleis and the Hellenisation of non-Greeks. Such an approach disregards the existence of plural (i.e. mixed) societies, among which hybridity seems to have been a more obvious phenomenon than acculturation. Previous research also paid little attention to the existence of internal competition, co-operation and integration that was evident amongst groups and sub-groups, as well as largely ignoring the creation of collective identities and the intentionality in expressing a city’s self-image. This study aims to deconstruct these out-dated approaches that are based on the culture-history tradition, according to which an ethnos is a stable and continuous unit that can be described by clear ethnic markers visible in the archaeological material. Instead, a new approach to the study of multicultural encounters in the North Pontic region is offered, an approach that pays attention to flexibility and the situational nature of ethnic groups and their boundaries. The book integrates a significant amount of material published by Eastern European archaeologists, classicists and historians that is not readily available to non-Russian speaking Western European scholarship. A wide range of materials available for researching ancient societies have been incorporated into the study. These include literary, epigraphic, numismatic and archaeological sources. Moreover, important current theories of cultural anthropology are used in order to provide a conceptual framework for the study of ethnicity and collective identity in ancient society. The picture of the North Pontic society that emerges from this book is more complex and multi-layered than in many previous studies. As will be demonstrated below, the hybrid nature of the North Pontic society allowed 5

Minns 1913.

INTRODUCTION

3

for the creation of local collective identities that were based on dynamic interaction, conscious strategies and investment in mutual benefits by the members of the ‘collective’. This was expressed by a given set of commonly recognisable practices, rituals and cultural artefacts and was maintained by the political institutions of the polis. Apart from ethnicity, the expression of other kinds of identity appears to have been an important element of intergroup negotiations and co-existence, such as age, gender and social status. The physical boundaries between the city and the rural territories will also be discussed, since they may have also defined the sense of identity among the citizens of a given polis. It is hoped that this study will promote further discussion on multicultural encounters in the North Pontic region. It also provides a constructive theoretical framework for further investigation not only for the scholars working on the Black Sea area, but also for anyone who has an interest in regions that served as contact zones between Greek and local cultures. Moreover, the book intends to break down the methodological barriers between Eastern and Western European archaeology and encourages mutual co-operation. This in turn should provide for different observations to be formed, as well as bringing fresh ideas to the study of the Black Sea region. 1. THE NORTHERN BLACK SEA – SCOPE AND OBJECTIVES The view of the Black Sea region, that it was lands of barbarians who came into contact with the Greek civilisation located in small areas along the coast, enjoyed popularity among scholars throughout much of the 20th century.6 However, the clear-cut division between us (i.e. Greeks – ‘civilised’ – colonisers) and them (i.e. non-Greeks – ‘barbarian’ – colonised) with regard to the relationships that existed in the Black Sea area is no longer satisfactory. This typically Hellenocentric concept of Greek civilisation, centred around small dots of Greek seaports spreading across the seashores, which is well reflected in the famous passage of Plato’s Phaedro in which Socrates compared these dots of Greek settlement to ‘ants or frogs around a pond’ (Phaedro 109b), should be seen a relic from the colonial times when this simplistic notion of the self (coloniser) versus the imaginary Other (colonised) was widely accepted.7 The new approach that is adopted in this book assumes an existence of interrelations in which creative reception, emulation and transformation can be 6 7

Højte 2008, 151. Young 1995, 5.

4

CHAPTER 1

found between the Greeks and non-Greek peoples. As it is today often emphasised in literature, the old-fashioned concept of a sharp dichotomy between the Greek and barbarian worlds has undergone an abrupt conceptual change as a result of the ideas of Postcolonialism, Postmodernism and now the recent effect of globalisation.8 This encourages us to use modern concepts, which have developed through examining modern societies of a more heterogeneous character, in the study of ancient society. These concepts assume the occurrence of such cultural phenomena as hybridisation, multiculturalism or the middle ground, which will be discussed in further detail later in this work. The first chapter discusses the historical timeline of the study of the northern Black Sea region and the development of Eastern European anthropological and archaeological approaches. The long-term separation of Eastern and Western European thought had a profound impact on methodology and the way in which the question of ethnicity and cultural identity has been perceived in relation to the archaeological material. The Eastern anthropological thought was closely related to the culture-history approach, according to which ethnicity was a stable and continuous unit passed down from generation to generation, whereas ethnic identity was directly reflected in material culture. The relatively small interest shown in northern Black Sea archaeology among scholars from the Western side of the Iron Curtain can be explained not only by the difference between methodologies and the language barrier, but also by the peripheral location of the northern Black Sea region, away from the Mediterranean, the area traditionally associated with classical study. The seminal work of Rostovtzeff, Iranians and Greeks serves as a startingpoint for the discussion on intercultural relationships in the Black Sea area.9 Rostovtzeff presented the North Pontic region as a geographically and economically unified entity in which mutual cultural impacts of the Greek and Iranian worlds can be observed. According to Rostovtzeff, South Russia had always belonged to the East as a consequence of its Graeco-Iranian past and the period of interaction and mutual assimilation between the Eastern and Western Worlds, which was stressed by the geographical location of this region between Europe and Asia. The second chapter describes how the growing interest in the study of ethnicity in the second half of the 20th century created an impetus to re-examine the question of Greek identity. The main change that occurred at that time in the perception of ethnicity in Western anthropology was the fact that ethnicity was no longer treated as a historically or biologically constructed social unit, but 8 9

Bilde and Petersen 2008, 9–10; Højte 2008, 151–52; Braund 2008, 347. Rostovtzeff 1922.

INTRODUCTION

5

rather as a subjective self-categorisation of a group of people that is in a constant process of ‘becoming’. Consequently, ethnicity is today regarded as a more situational and instrumental than a passive and monolithic phenomenon.10 Postcolonial theory (which is also discussed in the chapter) has widely been adopted by Western historians and archaeologists11 but almost completely neglected by Eastern European scholarship. As a result of Postcolonialism, an Athenocentric approach, according to which Athens and Old Greece were perceived as the centre of Greek culture, has been rejected by Western European scholars. Instead, modern approaches tend to focus on every microregion of the Greek world independently, challenging at the same time the concept of Hellenisation and the homogeneity of Greek identity.12 The world of Black Sea apoikiai has rarely been the subject of studies concerning local Greek identities. Eastern European approaches to ethnicity have long been influenced by the culture-history theory rooted in Marxism (expressed, for example, in the works of G. Kossinna and V.G. Childe13). As a consequence, an ethnos in Eastern European anthropology is still defined in terms of its long history, enduring attachment to the territory and material culture. Such an approach however does not take into consideration the existence of collective identities that were established, for example, through a common experience of migration and a new self-definition.14 This chapter also discusses the fact that the formation of a society’s collective identity is based on the active and creative process of remembering history and often includes an ‘invention’ of the past.15 All of this leads to the understanding of the environment and its inhabitants by a newly formed group of people. The establishment of a formative middle ground was crucial for a city’s self-definition and the development of relations with local communities. In such ‘colonial’ circumstances, the polarities between the Greeks and North Pontic barbarians, which were an essential element of the Athenian self-definition, do not appear to be locally constructed. The images of various North Pontic Others (especially the Scythians), which were based on oppositions, stereotypes and different categorisations, were part of Greek tradition on a wider Panhellenic level.16 10 Barth 1969; Banks 1996; Hutchinson and Smith 1996; Hall and du Gay 1996; S. Jones 1997; Bonnell and Hunt 1999a; J. Hall 2002. 11 See, for example, Hurst and Owen 2005; Liebmann and Rizvi 2008. 12 Malkin 1987; 1998; 2001; 2003a; 2004; Gruen 1993; 2005; 2011a; Vlassopoulos 2013. 13 See Shennan 1991; Shnirelman 1995. For Soviet anthropology, see also Geller 1980. For Marx’s legacy to archaeologists and social scientists, see Patterson 2003. 14 See, for example, Bilde 2008. 15 See Foxhall et al. 2010. 16 As demonstrated by E. Hall 1989b; Harrison 2002; re-examined by Mitchell 2007; Gruen 2011c. For a response, see Harrison 2020.

6

CHAPTER 1

The third chapter is devoted to modern approaches to the term ‘culture’. It is argued that culture should not be perceived as monolithic and fully coherent, since such an assumption, based on an illusory image of culture as a clearly defined and static unity, does not take into consideration the existence of other sub-groups and sub-cultures that continuously negotiate their flexible sense of identity. An important role in the constant process of negotiation and maintenance of cultural coherence is played by power and politics that define cultural boundaries and norms through state institutions and resistance to oppositional groups.17 The case studies presented in this chapter demonstrate the way in which local cultural identity was expressed by the citizens of Greek apoikiai through myth and common genealogies rooted in the mythical past. For example, the story about the origin of the Scythians illustrates the establishment of a semiotic middle ground between Greeks and Scythians through the participation in a universal mythical framework. Furthermore, it appears that the story played an important role as it enabled the Greeks living in the North Pontic poleis to familiarise themselves with the territory and understand the local environment. The cultural identity of Greek apoikiai was also expressed through local cults, since they were based on local historical and religious traditions, which clearly illustrates the development of a city’s own narrative. This chapter also demonstrates that self-representation is crucial in expressing cultural identity. Such ‘intentional Greekness’ is visible among the Bosporan elite that seemed to refer consciously to the mythical imaginary Greek past in order to display social status and power. An important element of the elite’s self-representation was also a set of values that were used in a wider network of elite collaboration.18 The fourth chapter discusses the fact that the Black Sea region belonged to a wider Greek cultural zone in which a set of representations, such as literary motifs, stereotypes and clichés, functioned and created an imaginary view of the North Pontic area and its non-Greek population such as the Scythians, Taurians, Cimmerians, Sauromatians, Sarmatians and the legendary Amazons. Their imaginary view is confronted with the archaeological material, which demonstrates that ancient ideas often have a great impact on today’s understanding of the demographic situation in this region. It is also demonstrated that imaginary geography in Greek thought had a great impact on how the northern Black Sea was perceived in Antiquity. Due to its location at the northern margins of the known world, non-Greek inhabitants of this region were included 17 18

Barth 1969; J. Hall 1997; Sewell 1999; Dougherty and Kurke 2003b. Meyer 2013.

INTRODUCTION

7

in mythological representations that were produced according to topoi that were commonly recognisable in Greek tradition. Greek perceptions of the North Pontic region are visible on both local and Panhellenic levels. The chronological scope of this book encompasses over a millennium of Greek-Barbarian interrelations in the northern Black Sea region. The startingpoint of this work will be the time when the Greeks first came into contact with local populations and Greek settlements were set up along the northern Black Sea shore, which can be traced to the 7th and 6th centuries BC during the Archaic period. Special focus is placed on the ensuing Classical and Hellenistic periods, which is due to the fact that the literary topoi and the imaginary view of the northern Black Sea region and its population were developing over these periods (in particular during the Hellenistic period), which deeply influenced Roman writers. The Hellenistic period is also important due to the fact that, except for Zopyrion’s short campaign against the Scythians and the siege of Olbia, in the 4th century BC the whole Black Sea littoral remained beyond the lands involved in the campaigns of Alexander the Great. This begs the question of how the Hellenistic period proceeded in the territories which were not directly under the influence of the Greek world after Alexander. Moreover, when examining the Hellenistic period in the Black Sea region, we have to rely mainly on epigraphic and archaeological material due to the relatively small number of literary sources from this time. As for the Roman period, it is noticeable that the Roman presence did not bring considerable changes to the cultural relationships in the region, and one may even think of it as the long Hellenistic period, as D. Braund suggests.19 This is why the Roman period will also be included in this work. This continuity of tradition in the northern Black Sea cities is visible not only in the city’s selfidentity (which remained local and Greek) but also in the way the northern Black Sea was perceived in the Roman world, as a part of the Roman east. This period is also important to investigate due to the multicultural character of Black Sea society that can be observed, particularly in the Bosporus and during the Roman time in Olbia where a significant Sarmatian component appeared after the city was destroyed by the Getae. The investigation will focus on three areas of the northern Black Sea region in which a Greek-Barbarian interrelationship is particularly visible – Olbia (due to its close relations with the Scythians and Sarmatians), Chersonesus (due to its interactions with the Taurians), and the Bosporan kingdom (due to its multicultural nature).

19

Braund 2005b, 10.

8

CHAPTER 1

2. THE STUDY OF THE NORTHERN BLACK SEA REGION – PAST

AND

PRESENT

When studying the Black Sea region, it is important to realise to what extent the political situation has affected the study of this area. The Black Sea coast has been occupied over many years by several countries, many of whom were extremely diverse in terms of culture, politics and nationality.20 Consequently, each region has been researched by local scholars using different methodologies and approaches. The starting-point for the study of antiquities can be traced back to the early 18th century in Russia during the reign of Peter the Great. This early stage of what might be called archaeology was concentrated on the excavation and acquisition of golden objects from burial mounds in Siberia, Kazakhstan and other parts of the Eurasian steppe. This led to the tsar signing a decree in 1718, according to which ‘all objects found under the ground or in water’ should be sent to his residence in St Petersburg.21 The objects were in later times collected in the Hermitage that was founded in 1764 by Catherine the Great, which marked the beginning of one of the most impressive collections of antiquities in the world.22 The collection includes a number of precious North Pontic finds, since for many years Russian archaeology was mainly focused on the excavation of classical sites as well as Scythian and Sarmatian kurgans in the northern Black Sea region.23 The fact that Classical Archaeology enjoyed great popularity had an ideological purpose. At the time, spectacular golden finds from Scythian barrows were displayed as objects of the nomadic elite, which was closely linked with the 18th century image of archaeology as an upper class occupation that was strictly focused on elite-related topics.24 When the northern Black Sea shore and the Crimea were annexed by Russia after the Russo-Turkish Wars at the end of the 18th century, archaeological attention could focus on Classical Antiquity in this territory. Collecting precious archaeological finds in statefounded museums was a matter of national prestige; therefore, archaeological excavations as well as heritage preservation were frequently sponsored by monarchs.25 This was also the time when the idea of the superiority of the ancient Greek civilisation was generated in European thought. This led to the 20 For a comprehensive study of Black Sea history from Antiquity to the present, see Ascherson 1995; King 2004. 21 Tikhonov 2008, 151–52. 22 Tikhonov 2008, 152; Petersen 2010, 20; Tsetskhladze 2001a, ix. For the history of the Hermitage collection, see Kalashnik 2007. For an extensive study of the history of northern Black Sea archaeology in the 18th and early 19th centuries, see Tunkina 2002; 2003. 23 Dolukhanov 1995, 327. 24 Petersen 2010, 21. 25 For the engagement and financial support from the Romanov family, see Tikhonov 2008; 2011.

INTRODUCTION

9

development of a typical Hellenocentric approach that for many years remained deep-rooted amongst scholars and still influences modern research.26 According to this approach, the Black Sea was considered as an area which was inhabited by civilised Greeks who were practising their ‘superior’ culture (concentrated in Greek cities), which in turn influenced their ‘barbaric’ neighbours.27 The Nationalist movements that developed in Russia and Europe in the late 19th and early 20th centuries led to the idea of archaeology as a political tool. This was mainly reflected in the concept of archaeological culture, according to which archaeological cultures were seen as direct markers of distinct ethnicities and consequently, particular peoples and tribes.28 This approach was often adopted to prove the superiority of one nation over the other. In the case of Germany, this is particularly visible in Kossinna’s works, which significantly influenced the ideology of National Socialism.29 Worth mentioning is the work of the prominent British scholar E.H. Minns, who carried out his research on northern Black Sea archaeology at the beginning of the 20th century.30 Even though we have experienced considerable progress in the field of North Pontic archaeology, Minns’s well-known work Scythians and Greeks still remains important with regard to the study of the history and culture of the North Pontic region, and is widely quoted by modern scholars, which is most likely caused by the fact that Russian is rarely understandable in Western Europe. Minns travelled to Russia occasionally and also exchanged ideas and information with Russian and Ukrainian scholars with whom he maintained contact, which resulted in this well researched and widely read book.31 He also maintained a friendly relationship with the famous Russian scholar, Rostovtzeff. Their long-lasting friendship is well attested in their correspondence that has closely been investigated by G. Bongard-Levin.32 The Russian Revolution of October 1917 forced a drastic change in the way in which archaeology was studied. The main role of archaeology, as a social science, was to support Communist ideology through investigating the origins of various ethnic groups that were included in the Soviet republics and incorporated into the Soviet Union.33 The main approach of Soviet archaeology was based on Marxist historical materialism, according to which archaeology 26

Petersen 2010, 22, 34–35. For examples of this kind of approach regarding Olbia, see Petersen 2010, 111–14. 28 Dolukhanov 1995, 329; Petersen 2010, 21. 29 See, for example, Kossinna 1911; 1926–27; Veit 1994; S. Jones 1997, 2–3. 30 Minns 1913. 31 Bongard-Levin 2005, 14–15. 32 Bongard-Levin 2005. 33 Trigger 1989, 326; Dolukhanov 1995, 329–30; Shnirelman 1995, 120; Petersen 2010, 23; Klejn 2012. 27

10

CHAPTER 1

was a part of history and ethnology and should be concentrated on the evolution of society and culture: particularly on the technology, social organisation, and ideology of past societies.34 This evolution was explained by socio-cultural changes and development models that were supposed to remain universal among every society.35 The aim of such an approach, which was further strengthened by the ideology of Lenin’s internationalism, was to provide a historical justification for the building of the Soviet Union.36 An example of such a study was V.I. Ravdonikas’s attempt to explain the North Pontic demographic situation as an autochthonous evolution through a few socio-economic stages from the Cimmerian, the Scythian and the Sarmatian up to the Gothic, and finally to the Slavic stage, completely neglecting the idea of migration.37 Marxist social concepts strongly influenced the Western archaeologist, V.G. Childe, who actively promoted the Marxist approach outside of Soviet scholarship.38 In the mid-1930s changes in archaeological thought were brought about in the Soviet state. Since the idea of the world revolution turned out to be rather utopian, there was a need to confirm and support ideologically the totalitarian national state that had been built up in the Soviet Union. The political situation also led to the growth of new ethnic intellectuals among different ethnic groups living in the republics that were integrated into the Soviet state.39 As a result, scholars turned their attention to Russian history and culture, which was additionally stimulated by the national socialist interest in the history of Germanic tribes.40 Also, archaeology started to become more professional and a number of excavations were carried out in the country, for example in the Caucasus and Central Asia, and also in Siberia where the famous frozen tombs of Pazyryk were found.41 The origins of various ethnic groups now began to be investigated in order to define their ethnic territories and glorify their ancient cultures.42 As a result, local archaeologists tended to draw naïve conclusions and identify their own nations with the great ethnic groups known from Antiquity. For example, Urartians were often equated by Armenian archaeologists with modern Armenians.43 34

Dolukhanov 1995, 330. Dolukhanov 1995, 331; Trigger 1989, 328; Shnirelman 1995, 120–29. 36 Shnirelman 1995, 125. 37 Ravdonikas 1932; Trigger 1989, 338–39; Shnirelman 1995, 128. 38 See, for example, Childe 1930; 1936; Trigger 1989, 344–52; Dolukhanov 1995, 332; Patterson 2003, 33–62. 39 Shnirelman 1995, 129. 40 Shnirelman 1995, 130. 41 Trigger 1989, 340; Petersen 2010, 24. For Pazyryk, see Rudenko 1953; 1970. 42 Trigger 1989, 340. 43 Dolukhanov 1995, 336. 35

INTRODUCTION

11

Some scholars tried to discover clear ethnic markers that can be used to identify archaeological finds with concrete ethnic groups.44 This so-called cultural-ethnic approach was already known in pre-Revolutionary Russia when archaeological cultures were also identified with ethnicity (which was also characteristic of Kossinna’s approach), and it enjoyed popularity amongst scholars after the fall of the Soviet Union as a result of the rise of nationalism.45 In the case of the northern Black Sea region, this approach resulted in the strong need to separate Greek and non-Greek populations of the Greek poleis, which was particularly visible in the study of Black Sea burials.46 In the 1940s, as a response to German ‘ethnogenetic’ expansion, Soviet archaeologists actively sought proof of the superiority of the Slavic culture. Some scholars believed that an autochthonous Slavic entity was formatted over a large territory of central and Eastern Europe. Derzhavin47 even argued that Scythians, Cimmerians, Thracians, Sarmatians, Etruscans, and even Goths and Huns were among the ancestors of the Slavs.48 In the case of the Crimea, when the Crimean Tatars were forced to leave the peninsula in 1944, it became possible to seek Slavic roots there in order to legitimise Russian rights to this territory. Soviet scholars stated that there was a genetic relationship between the Slavs and the Scythians, and the peninsula was initially owned by them.49 A number of excavations were carried out in places such as Scythian Neapolis and Chersonesus in order to confirm a strong relationship between the Crimea and the Russian nation. At the time, the state encouraged a large migration of Russians and Ukrainians to the peninsula.50 However, the study of Slavic roots in the Crimea was the subject of intense debate amongst Soviet archaeologists and it was finally abandoned in 1954 when the Crimea was given to the Ukraine by Khrushchev as a gift to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the unification of the Ukraine with Russia.51 After the death of Stalin in 1953, contact with Western scholars gradually became more possible. Soviet archaeology was still strongly influenced by the Marxist approach, though in its more historical and scientific variation.52 At the time, many Soviet archaeologists began to search for simple and standardised 44

Trigger 1989, 341. Dolukhanov 1995, 339. 46 Petersen 2010, 25. 47 Derzhavin 1944; 1946. 48 Shnirelman 1995, 132–34. 49 For example Shults 1950. The idea of linking the Slavs with the Herodotean Scythians had already been criticised in the 19th century (see Meyer 2020). 50 Shnirelman 1995, 135. 51 Shnirelman 1995, 135. 52 Trigger 1989, 343; Petersen 2010, 25. 45

12

CHAPTER 1

methods for the analysis of archaeological material, which led to the formation of artefact typologies and a uniform definition of such terms as the ‘archaeological culture’.53 Such a typological approach became deeply rooted in archaeological thought and it still enjoys popularity in modern study. One of the approaches adopted in the 1990s, often called ‘strict archaeology’, strongly insisted on treating archaeology as an independent discipline that should be completely separated from the study of history.54 The fall of the Soviet Union caused a drastic economic crisis which had an enormous impact on all state-funded scientific organisations. A number of large projects and excavations were cancelled due to the lack of financing. Scholars did not have funds either for research or for scientific travel and acquisition of foreign literature.55 The economic decline forced archaeologists to seek alternative sources of funding, which sometimes successfully led to co-operation with Western institutions.56 Unfortunately, another outcome of the crisis was the development of an illegal market in antiquities which was accompanied by looting of ancient sites, especially in the territory of the Ukraine. 57 In the case of Olbia, it has been reported that between the excavation missions in 2001 and 2002, over 600 graves were plundered in the cemetery area.58 The law regarding the protection of archaeological heritage was finally signed in 2004 by the Ukrainian Parliament after a long period of debate caused by the lobbying and strong pressure of high-ranked influential people who owned private archaeological collections.59 The long separation between Eastern and Western scholarship was reflected in the relatively small interest shown in northern Black Sea archaeology among scholars from outside the Iron Curtain.60 As H. Heinen assumes, this may have been caused not only by the ‘psychological distance’ between the Eastern and Western world (caused by language differences and mentality) but also by the peripheral location of the northern Black Sea shore from the point of view of classical studies that were traditionally associated with the Mediterranean.61 53

Trigger 1989, 343. Dolukhanov 1995, 338. For the relationship between archaeology and history and the need to separate them, see Klejn 1993. For a different point of view in Western scholarship, see Morris 2000; J. Hall 2014. 55 Chernykh 1995, 139–40. 56 Chernykh 1995, 140; Tsetskhladze 2001a, xvii. 57 Petersen 2010, 26. 58 Petersen 2010, 26–27, n. 19. 59 Petersen 2010, 27. 60 With a few rare exceptions such as Hind 1984; 1993. For the complaints about Western scholars ignoring the Black Sea region, see Hugh 1961. 61 Heinen 2001, 1–3. 54

INTRODUCTION

13

Fortunately in recent years, the flow of information between Eastern and Western scholarship has considerably improved due to the relatively stable political situation (now worsened by the conflict in the eastern Ukraine) and the establishment of contacts between scholars, which has resulted in a number of international archaeological missions and publications.62 However, many years of a separate development of archaeological thought in the East and West may sometimes cause problems in mutual relations. One of the problems is the use of a different methodology based on a different tradition of archaeological thought.63 Another problem which impedes the flow of information is language, which has often been pointed out by Western scholars.64 Research from the Black Sea region was (and still is) published in many languages, mostly in Russian but also in Ukrainian, Romanian, Bulgarian, Georgian and Turkish. Thus, it is important to collate the data from the Black Sea littoral and make it available to the Western, English-speaking scholarship in order to improve the understanding of the history and archaeology of the Pontic region. This aim is gradually being fulfilled thanks to various projects concerning the archaeology of the Black Sea, such as the journal Ancient Civilizations from Scythia to Siberia (published by Brill in Leiden), the series Colloquia Pontica (also published by Brill), and the Danish National Research Foundation’s Centre for Black Sea Studies that gathered Eastern and Western scholars and carried out research between 2002 and 2010.65 The Danish Centre not only carried out several field projects which resulted in publications (Panskoye I, Olbia Sector NGS and, Olbia Necropolis, and the Dzharylgach Survey Project) but also published annual reports and articles, as well as 21 volumes (published by Aarhus University Press) which deal with the history and archaeology of the Black Sea region; all publications are provided with free online access. Worth mentioning is the project Ancient Greek Colonies in the Black Sea carried out by Grammenos and Petropoulos, which resulted in two comprehensive books published in two volumes in 2003 and 2007.66 Also, a valuable contribution to the study of the North Pontic area has been made by Müller, who used both Slavonic language material and Western European literature to produce a comprehensive study of the northern Black Sea region (spreading from Olbia to Tanais), focusing on the economy and exchange networks of this territory.67 Moreover, a recent collection of papers prepared by archaeological 62 63 64 65 66 67

For the situation at the beginning of the 21st century, see Tsetskhladze 2001a, xvii. See Braund 2005b, 3. Braund 2005b, 2; Boardman 1999b, xi. See the web-site https://antikmuseet.au.dk/pontos. Grammenos and Petropoulos 2003; 2007. Müller 2010.

14

CHAPTER 1

and historical experts of the northern Black Sea area and edited by V. Kozlovskaya provides an important overview of current research in this region.68 As recent events in the Ukraine and the Crimea have demonstrated, the study of the northern Black Sea coast is still strongly affected by the political situation in the region. The so-called Crimean crisis in 2014 resulted in the cancellation of many international archaeological missions that were to be carried out in the territory of the peninsula (such as the Polish-Ukrainian mission at Tyritake). Also, archaeological missions located near military conflicts in the eastern Ukraine were temporarily cancelled due to the safety aspects (the PolishRussian mission at Tanais being an example of this). This raises the question of how communication and cooperation between East and West scholarship may be affected by political circumstances in the near future. The same separation of Eastern and Western thought also applies to anthropology, which had a profound impact on the way in which the question of an ethnos, ethnicity and cultural identity has been perceived in relation to the archaeological material. Throughout the Soviet period, the idea of an ethnos was deeply rooted in Marxist theory. This idea was mainly based on the historical principle that identified a certain ethnic group through its long history, which also served as an analytical tool for research. Ethnic groups were perceived as social units that were defined by common language, territory, history, ethnonym, culture and self-awareness. Consequently, an ethnos was studied on account of its long history and thus, the idea of collective identities (that are situational and flexible by nature) was not taken into consideration.69 Ethnic groups were understood as stable and continuous units passed down from generation to generation that were connected through having a specific social organisation. Such an approach to ethnicity was rejected by the structuralfunctionalists in the West who paid more attention to flexibility and the rather situational nature of ethnic groups and their cultural boundaries, rejecting at the same time any connotations of ethnicity related to genetics.70 As it can be seen, the development of Eastern anthropological thought was closely related to the culture-history approach that was applied in archaeology, especially by Kossinna. According to this approach, ethnic identity was directly reflected in material culture, which in turn resulted in the idea of so-called ‘static indigenism’, namely the belief that groups of people lived in one place for thousands of years. As a consequence, every change in material culture was interpreted as an effect 68 Kozlovskaya 2017. For an overview of the main archaeological research on the northern Black Sea region carried out between 1995 and 2011, see Papuci-Władyka 2018. 69 Dragadze 1980; see the next chapter for more detail. 70 Shennan 1991. For a discussion regarding the methodologies used by Eastern and Western anthropologists, see Geller 1975.

INTRODUCTION

15

of diffusion or local and cultural evolution.71 It is important to be aware of such different developments in anthropological thought in the East and the West due to the fact that it has had a great impact on how ethnicity is approached in modern study, which will be one of the key points that will be discussed further on in this study. Having discussed the historical timeline of the study of the northern Black Sea region and the development of Eastern anthropological thought, it is essential to look closer at one of the most famous Russian researchers in the field of ancient history in general and Black Sea archaeology in particular, Rostovtzeff, whose seminal work Iranians and Greeks can serve as a starting-point for the discussion on Greek-Barbarian relationships in the North Pontic region. 3. ROSTOVTZEFF’S IRANIANS

AND

GREEKS – THE CONCEPT OF EURASIAN UNITY

M.I. Rostovtzeff (1870–1952) was one of the first scholars to examine the contacts between the Greeks and non-Greek peoples on the northern Black Sea coast. In 1918, Rostovtzeff decided to leave his home country after the October Revolution. He emigrated first to England and then to the USA where he became a Professor of Ancient History at Yale and gained international recognition with his works on the Hellenistic world and the Roman empire.72 In his book written during his emigration, Iranians and Greeks in South Russia, published in 1922, he offered a new, fresh impression that presented the northern Black Sea region as a geographically and economically unified entity which was influenced for many centuries by the ‘outside’ world.73 As he wrote, apart from the strong Greek impact that arrived through many sea routes, there were also Oriental and Southern influences that came from the Caucasus and the southern Black Sea region, and Western Influences brought to the northern Black Sea via the Danube route.74 Rostovtzeff’s aim was to examine mutual cultural impacts of the Greek and Iranian worlds and relations between these two civilisations. Rostovtzeff treated the Black Sea region not only as an integral part of the Greek world (as a region of Greek cities spread along the sea coast) but also as a world of the nomads – Cimmerians, Scythians and Sarmatians. To him, Southern Russia seemed to be more than just a part of the classical world. It was also the world of the 71 72 73 74

Shennan 1991, 30. Heinen 2001, 3. For Rostovtzeff’s stay in England, see Bongard-Levin 1999. For a previous Russian edition of the book, see Rostovtzeff 1918. Rostovtzeff 1922, 7.

16

CHAPTER 1

Orient that had never been fully Hellenised in the same way as the Greek Black Sea world had never been entirely Orientalised. As a result, the Black Sea milieu had its own mixed character and created its own distinctive cultural forms. Rostovtzeff’s approach, in which he put emphasis on reciprocal relations and mutual influence between the Greek and Iranian worlds, seems very modern and was certainly innovative at the time.75 Especially, his view of the Bosporan kingdom as a multi-ethnic conglomerate of Greek cities and indigenous lands is comparable to our modern concept of hybridity. Although the idea of gathering the material from the northern Black Sea was previously expressed in Minns’s Scythians and Greeks,76 Rostovtzeff’s conceptual difference lay in the way he used the word Iranians instead of Scythians. Unlike Minns, who preferred ancient ethnic terminology, Rostovtzeff decided to use modern categorisation.77 This allowed him to construct a historical narrative that had its starting-point in the Graeco-Scythian period and continued through to modern Russia. The Scythians were replaced by the Sarmatians, Celts, Goths and Huns, and finally, by the Slavs who migrated into the region in the 6th century AD and then, established the Rus principalities in the 9th and 10th centuries AD.78 This holistic vision of the northern Black Sea region and the continuity between ancient and modern history was particularly attractive for the Eurasianist school that was founded in 1921 by a young Russian émigré community in Sofia and Prague.79 Both Rostovtzeff and the Eurasianists shared the same concept of Eurasia being an independent cultural zone that provides natural conditions for the development of large and politically integrated empires.80 The concept was closely connected with a patriotic vision of Russian history and a political programme (that was never accepted by Rostovtzeff), according to which the Bolshevik regime was a temporary but necessary stage of decline on the way to the pan-Eurasian state.81 The same idea of Eurasianism emerged again in the second half of the 20th century and was expressed in Gumilev’s works such as the Rhythms of Eurasia.82 Furthermore, it appears that the modern emergence and development of the Eurasian Economic Union is also a reflection of the same pan-Eurasian ideas.

75

Meyer 2011, 78. Minns 1913. 77 Meyer 2011, 77. 78 Meyer 2009, 188–89; 2011, 83. 79 Meyer 2009, 186. 80 Meyer 2009, 186. 81 Meyer 2009, 186; 2011, 83–84. 82 Gumilev 1993. For an analysis of Gumilev’s works and the idea of Neo-Eurasianism, see Klitsche-Sowitzki 2011. 76

INTRODUCTION

17

According to Rostovtzeff, South Russia had always belonged to the East as a consequence of its Graeco-Iranian past and the period of interaction and mutual assimilation between the Eastern and Western worlds which was even more stressed by its geographical location between Asia and Europe. As Meyer points out, this in turn provided a good explanation of Russia’s ambivalent identity between East and West (that is between Asia and Europe).83 The East-West assimilation was to be seen in cult in the Black Sea region that, according to Rostovtzeff, was fully Orientalised. He stated that the supreme gods of the Bosporan kingdom were in fact eastern gods that were Hellenised only by name. As a consequence, Rostovtzeff sought for a link between Western Mithraism and Eastern (Persian) Zoroastrianism, a link that has never been found.84 As mentioned above, Rostovtzeff’s work was hindered by the political situation in Russia. During his emigration, he had limited access to Russian literature and archaeological material. He left behind his personal library as well as a collection of archaeological material in St Petersburg.85 As Rostovtzeff himself complained, he often had to cite books from memory.86 This certainly affected the study of archaeological sources that should be reviewed and also updated in accordance with the current state of research in this field. One such issue is the problem of the Scythian presence in Asia Minor in the 8th and 7th centuries BC. Modern studies suggest that from an archaeological point of view the Cimmerians and the Scythians are almost indistinguishable due to the similarity of their material culture at that time. Moreover, Akkadian and Greek written sources regarding the territory of Asia Minor suggest a Cimmerian rather than a Scythian presence.87 It has also been suggested by A.I. Ivantchik that the Cimmerians were closely related with the Scythians, unlike Rostovtzeff who assumed a Thracian origin of the Cimmerians.88 Nevertheless, the contribution of Rostovtzeff’s Iranians and Greeks to the historical and cultural understanding of the Scythian world remains significant; this is demonstrated by the frequency in which this work is still cited and explored in modern study.89 However, what is of most importance with regard to modern studies of the northern Black Sea is that Rostovtzeff created the idea of the Graeco-Iranian world as an ecological, geographical and economic entity that has its own distinctive 83 84 85 86 87 88 89

Meyer 2009, 195; 2011, 88; see also Lehmann-Carli et al. 2011; cf. Gumilev 2014. Meyer 2009, 195; 2011, 86, 88; 2013, 250. Bongard-Levin 2005, 14. Rostovtzeff 1922, ix. See Ivantchik 1993a; 2001a. Ivantchik 1995, 5, 20. See especially Meyer 2009; 2011; 2013; also Rostovtzeff 1993.

18

CHAPTER 1

multicultural character that was formed through continuous contact between the Greeks and Iranians. As Rostovtzeff pointed out, although the Iranian world has left us with no written sources, there is a large amount of Scythian material that allows us to reconstruct their political, social, economic and even religious life.90 However, it should be taken into consideration that our understanding of the Scythian culture has been influenced to a large extent by Greek sources – texts and Greek iconography. Written sources come mainly from Greek literature in which both the Scythians (i.e. nomads) and the northern Black Sea were bound by a literary convention that was established as early as the first Greek ethnographic accounts of Scythia. These are known from Herodotus’ work, but their origin might be traced to the first Greek contacts with the northern part of the Black Sea, since they could have been included in periploi that were initially produced by ancient sailors and preserved for future generations through oral tradition. It is important to point out that since Rostovtzeff’s time, Classical Archaeology and Scythian Studies (which are called ‘Scythology’ by Eastern scholarship) developed into two separate and highly specialised disciplines. This in turn often significantly impedes the general understanding of the history of the North Pontic region. The need for dialogue between these two disciplines certainly exists in modern research. Such a constructive dialogue would undoubtedly contribute to our understanding of the term Iranian world and the problem of its cultural continuity. 4. THE NORTHERN BLACK SEA AND

THE

EAST

Eurasian nomads inhabited vast territories of the steppe for many centuries. Their existence is visible in the archaeological record which shows similar material culture existed throughout the region, which was most likely a consequence of a similar lifestyle adopted by the steppe population. This in turn seems to be closely associated with the natural conditions of the area, which afforded groups of people greater mobility and also aided the development of economic activities such as pasturage and animal breeding. Such a distinctive feature of the Eurasian steppes builds up an image of the Iranian world as a unit of peoples of assumed Iranian origin, an image that encouraged Rostovtzeff to search for evidence of both a historical continuity of Eurasian tradition and a link between the Eastern and Western part of the Iranian world. As mentioned above, Rostovtzeff sought for elements of Iranian cult or religion which originated 90

Rostovtzeff 1922, 12.

INTRODUCTION

19

Fig. 1. Drawing of the silver rhyton from the Karagodeuashkh Kurgan, Russia (after Rostovtzeff 1913, pl. I).

in Persia. Such an attempt is visible in his interpretation of the silver rhyton from the Karagodeuashkh Kurgan near Krymsk, dated to the 4th century BC (Fig. 1).91 The scene on the rhyton represents two horsemen in Scythian dress; one of them is holding a rhyton and a staff, the other is raising his right hand. There are also two decapitated bodies lying on the ground beneath the horses.92 The staff was interpreted by Rostovtzeff as a sceptre and the gesture as an adoratio. Rostovtzeff compared this representation with Sasanian rock reliefs at Naqsh-e-Rustam in Iran showing the investiture of king Ardashir I by Ahura Mazda in AD 224 (Fig. 2),93 and came to the conclusion that both scenes represent an ancient Iranian ritual conferral of royal power by the supreme god, involving an act of mystical communion between the king and the god through a sacred beverage.94 This idea of cultural influence from Iran was later criticised 91 Meyer 2009, 190–92 with n. 16 with further literature; 2013, 28–33; Rostovtzeff 1913 (for translation and commentary by Meyer and Maguire, see Meyer 2011, 94–159). 92 Meyer 2013, 29, fig. 6. 93 Meyer 2013, 31, fig. 7. 94 Meyer 2009, 191; 2013, 30–31.

20

CHAPTER 1

Fig. 2. Sasanian rock relief at Naqsh-e-Rustam, Iran (after Rostovtzeff 1913, fig. 1).

by scholars who indicated that five centuries divided classical Bosporus from Sasanian Persia and it is hardly possible to assume such iconographical transmission between these periods. Moreover, the sceptre should be interpreted rather as a lance, whereas the gesture of raising the hand is a greeting between mortals known from Greek vases and grave reliefs.95 This shows that similarities between the Karagodeuashkh rhyton and the Sasanian relief is rather compositional and Rostovtzeff’s idea of a cultural influence from Iran on the North Pontic Scythians, that was further elaborated in his Iranians and Greeks, did not find confirmation either in the Scythian monarchic system or in Bosporan cult and religion; scant evidence of Mithraism in the North Pontic region should be associated with Roman military presence rather than with influences from the East.96 This brings up the question as to whether the Iranian world was in any sense a cohesive unit, since it appears that this idea is rather a modern construct. However, it is important to note that an Iranian cultural impact on the northern Black Sea region may have existed, but it appears that such an impact had a different source which is to be found in the Achaemenid empire rather than in the Scythian steppes. There are known objects that were inspired by Achaemenid art or that originated from the Achaemenid state that have been found in 95 Meyer 2009, 196 with nn. 24, 25; 2013, 31–32; cf. Ustinova 1999, 264–69 with n. 29, who follows Rostovtzeff’s interpretation. 96 Meyer 2011, 88, n. 42.

INTRODUCTION

21

Fig. 3. Silver rhyton from the Seven Brothers Kurgan 4. Inv. no. SBr IV-3. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

the North Pontic region, particularly in the necropoleis of the Bosporan kingdom, among which the most usual finds are cylindrical seals and carved stones (scaraboids) dated to the 5th–early 4th centuries BC.97 Of special interest is an impression of an Achaemenid seal that has been found on a clay weight from Olbia.98 Apart from these objects, pieces of metalwork have also been found, such as a silver rhyton with a representation of a winged ibex discovered in Kurgan 4 of the Seven Brothers group (Fig. 3).99 This kurgan is identified as 97

Fedoseev 1997; Treister 2001; 2010, 234–36, 251–52. Fedoseev 1997, 310. 99 Treister 2010, 225 fig. 1; Goroncharovskij 2010. Treister (2010, 223–27) suggests Asia Minor as the place of manufacture. 98

22

CHAPTER 1

the burial site of a Sindian chief and is dated no later than the middle of the 5th century BC.100 The iconographic analysis of the rhyton clearly indicates close parallels with Iranian art.101 The presence of the rhyton in the Sindian grave is variously interpreted by scholars who assume that it may have been a trophy, a diplomatic gift, part of an exchange or an offering from the nearby town of Labrys for the local ruler.102 It seems probable that such objects may have been brought to the lands of the Sindians due to the fact that they reflected a local taste for this kind of ornamentation. This idea is supported by the discovery of two golden rhytons that were produced by Greek craftsmen who seem to have followed the same iconography of the silver rhyton from the Seven Brothers Kurgan.103 Other Achaemenid and Achaemenid-inspired objects from the North Pontic area include: a sword from the Chertomlyk Kurgan decorated in the Achaemenid style, a silver rhyton from the Kul-Oba Kurgan which is a local imitation of rhytons of Achaemenid type, and objects of the Achaemenid circle, such as deep Achaemenid bowls from the Solokha and Zhirnyi Kurgans and a phiale from the kurgan on Mt Zelenskaya. 104 Furthermore, other possible Achaemenid influences on the North Pontic region that have been suggested by scholars are to be found in coin emblems of the Bosporus and Olbia, which seem to have their parallels in Persian symbols. Another parallel is assumed to exist between Bosporan and Persian weight systems. Worth also mentioning is the occurrence of Iranian (Persian) names in local onomastics.105 Apart from the North Pontic shores, the South Ural region is another area that exhibits a distribution of Achaemenid and Achaemenid-style objects. These objects include jewellery such as torques, bracelets and part of a pectoral, as well as gold, silver and silver-gilt vessels. The objects have been found in early Sarmatian burials at Filippovka, Prokhorovka, Dolinnoe and Orsk which date to the 4th century BC.106 It is important to observe that some of the objects were repurposed, as in the case of the phialae from the Prokhorovka Kurgan which were given a secondary function by the Sarmatians as phalerae on horse-harnesses.107 100

For chronology of the kurgans, see Goroncharovskij 2010, 97–98, n. 5. For classification of Achaemenid and Achaemenid-inspired objects from the Black Sea region, see Rehm 2010. For the rhyton, see Rehm 2010, 168. For parallel finds from other regions, see Treister 2010, 224–27. 102 Goroncharovskij 2010, 88–89. 103 Goroncharovskij 2010, 89. 104 Treister 2010, 230–32. 105 Fedoseev 1997, 311–13; see also Treister 2010, 223 with literature. 106 Treister 2010, 236–48. 107 Treister 2010, 249. 101

INTRODUCTION

23

The means of distribution of Achaemenid and Achaemenid-style objects varies depending on a given context. The seals are likely to indicate that a diplomatic relationship existed between the Bosporus and the Achaemenid state, although no valid historical conclusion can be drawn from their occurrence. Some of the objects in the South Ural region may in turn have served as prestigious gifts bestowed upon Sarmatian kings or a means of payment for their service as mercenaries for the Achaemenids.108 The examples of the intercultural contacts between the Black Sea area, the Achaemenid empire and the steppes lead to the conclusion that the term Iranian world appears to be a modern concept that was non-existent in Antiquity. Such a concept has its roots in the holistic idea of Eurasia that is ʻmentally’ connected with the East and has its own uninterrupted history.109

108 109

Treister 2010, 250. For example, for the latest, see Tsetskhladze 2019 (with updated evidence and literature).

CHAPTER 2

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

Since the beginning of the 1980s, the question of cultural identity and ethnicity has become a popular topic in sociology and anthropology. This has been caused by a few factors that strongly influenced attitudes towards the study of identity. Examples of which include the so-called ‘ethnic revival’ – the emergence of indigenous post-colonial societies that have sought their own cultural identity since the 1950s, and also ethnic movements in both Europe and the Americas from the 1960s onwards. Such social movements occurred after the breakup of the Soviet Union and other Eastern Bloc countries, which in turn led to the growth of nationalism and self-awareness of various ethnic groups.1 As a consequence, the awareness of a multicultural character of most contemporary states increased among society, which resulted in a growing interest in the study of ethnicity.2 Another factor is the fact that our Postmodern world is experiencing the opposition between expected effects of globalisation (such as acculturation, i.e. the disappearance of culture differences) on the one hand, and evolving multiculturalism (i.e. cultural diversity within one society) on the other. Multiculturalism stays in opposition to the idea of a melting pot which was especially popular in the USA, according to which present-day multicultural society is becoming more and more homogenous through assimilation and acculturation. As it is visible today, the idea of a melting pot failed despite the multicultural character of modern society, and it turned out to be completely unrealistic.3 Instead, other kinds of phenomena occurred, such as hybridisation (the process of creating new trans-cultural forms), creolisation (cultural mixing which leads to the formation of new identities), and indigenisation (taking something from outside and making it part of our culture).4 All those phenomena encouraged scholars to reconsider previous theories about ethnicity and cultural identity. It is also worth noting that Postcolonial critique had a great impact on how ethnicity is studied today and that these criticisms changed 1 2 3 4

Hutchinson and Smith 1996, v; S. Jones 1997, 8, 54. S. Jones 1997, 8. J. Hall 1997, 19. S. Jones 1997, 8, 53.

26

CHAPTER 2

the traditional view regarding social interrelationships in the colonial environment.5 A growing interest in ethnicity and the creation of identities also occurred in the study of culture and is commonly called the ‘cultural turn’.6 This approach put particular stress on interdisciplinary research and the critique of Poststructuralist and Postmodernist concepts, challenging at the same time the concept of culture. One of the aims of the cultural turn was to separate ethnicity from the idea of race in order to avoid negative connotations with racism or nationalism.7 The growing interest in new approaches to ethnicity and culture influenced archaeologists as well; however, as S. Jones points out, archaeology did not immediately follow the development of anthropological thought.8 Both processual archaeology (established during the 1960s and 1970s) and post-processual archaeology (established in the late 1970s and early 1980s) adopted a cautious approach regarding the study of ethnicity and the construction of cultural identity. This was caused by the fact that archaeologists tried to escape from the culture-historical approach (represented by Kossinna and Childe; see Chapter 1) that was usually associated with the study of ethnicity. Also, scholars were afraid that archaeology and the study of ethnicity could be used as a tool in the politics and ideology of modern national movements.9 The establishment of the so-called New Archaeology (the first stage of processual archaeology) brought a new conceptualisation of culture as an integrated functionalist system that is a product of a variety of past processes.10 Subsequently, ethnicity started to be seen as an aspect of social process related to economic and political relationships.11 It was argued that ethnicity is not a passive reflection of cultural norms. On the contrary, it is a self-defining system that is strengthened through active maintenance of cultural boundaries. This approach to ethnicity is mainly based on the work of the social anthropologist F. Barth, who developed this concept in his seminal book Ethnic Groups and Boundaries.12 A similar approach was also developed by another anthropologist A. Cohen, according to whom ethnicity is an instrumental construct based more on economic and political purposes than psychological ones.13 Both Barth and Cohen are considered as developers of the so-called instrumental approach that was predominant in social anthropology 5

Young 1995; 2001. For more detail on Postcolonial theory, see the next section. See Bonnell and Hunt 1999b. 7 Bonnell and Hunt 1999a. 8 S. Jones 1997, 13. 9 S. Jones 1997, 5-6; for example the Australian Aborigines (see S. Jones 1997, 142). 10 S. Jones 1997, 26. 11 S. Jones 1997, 28. 12 Barth 1969. 13 A. Cohen 1996, 83–84; Banks 1996, 33. 6

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

27

throughout the 1970s and 1980s. As a consequence, the theory of primordialism, according to which ethnicity is a natural, biological phenomenon, has been strongly critiqued due to its too atavistic and a priori attitude.14 Also, there was a lengthy debate about objectivist and subjectivist definitions of ethnicity. According to the objectivists, ethnic groups are regarded as social and cultural entities that are relatively isolated and do not interact with other groups, and they are defined by strict boundaries. Subjectivists in turn regard ethnic groups as culturally constructed systems that can be defined based on their own subjective self-categorisation which involves social interaction. As it can be noticed, Barth’s and Cohen’s theories support the subjectivist definition of ethnicity. Both scholars placed strong emphasis on how a certain group of people defines itself, and not on how the group is perceived from the outside by someone who analyses it. Consequently, the objectivist approach has strongly been criticised and today it does not retain much popularity in the human sciences.15 To sum up, during the last few decades the most influential approaches to ethnicity are instrumentalism that regards ethnicity as a social construct, and subjectivism that perceives ethnicity as a construct based on the self-definition of a group of people. According to these approaches, ethnicity is dynamic and changeable depending on the circumstances and opportunities that can be gained by a shift of identity. The main criteria of perception of an ethnic group are its self-conceptualisation which is based on the creation of its own distinctiveness (also referred to as boundaries) and the opposition us versus them towards other groups. Moreover, contact with other ethnic groups does not lead to the disappearance of distinctiveness through acculturation, as it was traditionally perceived before. This is due to the realization that an ethnic group is not the result of geographical or social isolation, and it is not a bearer of a separate cultural entity; the boundaries, such as norms, beliefs and values, are maintained in order to preserve a group’s identity and define social relations with others that are based on common understanding and mutual interest.16 The extremely instrumental nature of ethnic groups is supported by Cohen who calls them organised collective interest groups that emerge to achieve and protect their economic and political interests.17 Barth’s approach had and still has a great impact on the social sciences even though it has been criticised for a lack of empirical criteria that would help 14 15 16 17

Eller and Coughlan 1996; Hutchinson and Smith 1996, 8–9; J. Hall 1997, 17–19. S. Jones 1997, 56–57. S. Jones 1997, 73; see also Barth 1969, 10–19. A. Cohen 1974; see also A. Cohen 1996.

28

CHAPTER 2

to determine what can be called an ethnic group and what cannot.18 Using Barth’s theory, other identity groups such as gender, class or caste might also be included in the definition of ethnicity.19 To narrow down the definition, some scholars use other categories of ethnicity such as language, consciousness of common history or common origin.20 This is especially visible in Eastern European and post-Soviet traditions, which place strong emphasis on the cultural and historical continuity of the ethnos whose self-awareness developed over a long time and can be perceived by ‘objective’ criteria such as language, customs or material culture.21 The word ‘ethnicity’ itself is a neologism that was first attested in English in 1953 and since that time, scholars have been struggling with its clear definition.22 As a consequence, this term conveys a different meaning depending on the scholar and the context in which he/she is referring to. In order to clarify the meaning behind the use of the terms ‘ethnic identity’, ‘ethnicity’ and ‘ethnic group’ in this book, the following definitions provided by Jones will be adopted: Ethnic identity: that aspect of a person’s self-conceptualisation which results from identification with a broader group in opposition to others on the basis of perceived cultural differentiation and/or common descent. Ethnic group: any group of people who set themselves apart and/or are set apart by others with whom they interact or co-exist on the basis of their perceptions of cultural differentiation and/or common descent. Ethnicity: all those social and psychological phenomena associated with a culturally constructed group identity as defined above. The concept of ethnicity focuses on the ways in which social and cultural processes intersect with one another in the identification of, and interaction between, ethnic groups.23 Moreover, a distinction between ethnicity and cultural identity is drawn in this study, since these two aspects of a person’s self-definition may manifest themselves on different levels of social interaction. Such a distinction is necessary since, as argued by C.M. Antonaccio, cultural identity, unlike ethnic identity, transcends social criteria such as class, gender and age; consequently, cultural 18 19 20 21 22 23

See especially Vermeulen and Govers 1994. S. Jones 1997, 61; Vermeulen and Govers 1994, 3–4. See, for example, A. Cohen 1994; Roosens 1994. Shennan 1991, 29; S. Jones 1997, 63. Tonkin et al. 1996, 22; Eriksen 1996, 28. After S. Jones 1997, xiii.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

29

practices such as particular dialects or pottery forms are related to cultural identity and therefore cannot be considered as markers of ethnicity.24 The crucial question that can be raised is how we can use these approaches when studying ancient societies. As E.S. Gruen rightly points out, the ancient world was no less multicultural than it is today, which should encourage us to investigate how ancient societies expressed and defined their own identities through a variety of tools, such as the manipulation and reshaping of myths and historical tradition, the invention and creation of legends and tales of origin.25 Anthropological study provides useful models which demonstrate how human groups form, define themselves and interact with one another. The use of these models can improve our understanding of ancient societies, and that is the reason why anthropological theories are adopted by other academic disciplines such as Classical Studies. Furthermore, today’s concerns regarding issues such as multiculturalism, gender, minority groups and globalisation can bring about new challenging questions and change former approaches. They can also shed some new light on the problem of how ancient identities may have developed over time. A number of works on Greek identity have been produced in recent years using modern anthropological approaches, however, most of them pertain to the Mediterranean World, particularly to its western part.26 As for the northern Black Sea region, the question of local identities has recently started to be re-examined by scholars.27 Nevertheless, both the eastern Mediterranean and the Black Sea region still remain an important subject for further investigation. 1. THE IMAGE OF THE ‘OTHER’ IN GREEK TRADITION For the last few decades, the question of Greek identity (Hellenicity) has been intensively studied and re-examined by a number of scholars whose approaches were strongly influenced by modern culture theory.28 The previous focus on an Athenocentric point of view and the core-periphery system (or world-systems theory) have frequently been criticised and rejected as modern conceptions that are non-existent from an ancient perspective.29 Instead, modern study adopts 24

Antonaccio 2010, 33. Gruen 1993, 1–3. 26 See Skinner 2012, 23 with n. 88, and 25, n. 97 for literature. 27 See, for example, Bilde and Petersen 2008; Petersen 2010. For the Black Sea region as a whole, see also Dana 2011. 28 J. Hall 1997; 2002. For an overview, see Skinner 2012, 19–30. 29 For the history and a critique of core–periphery theory, see Dietler 2009, 26–28; Malkin 2003a. 25

30

CHAPTER 2

the concept of networks and attempts to encompass both the world of central Greece and the world of many Greek settlements (microregions) spreading across the Mediterranean and the Black Sea which are connected with one another.30 Scholars often focus on the way in which the Greeks developed their sense of common identity, and also on the question concerning the time when this notion occurred in Greek thought. It is traditionally believed that the gradual development of Greek identity, borne out of a number of local identities, was intertwined with the process of cultural and social change brought about from the more developed and more powerful Near East. This phenomenon was described as the Orientalising revolution/period and since the 19th century the term Orientalisation has been used by art historians and archaeologists. However, the question of Orientalisation has recently been thoroughly debated. It has been argued that Orientalisation, as a construct of modern historiography, may lead to misconceptions about the nature of cultural transformation and exchange in the Late Bronze and Early Iron Age Mediterranean.31 Most importantly, it has been pointed out that during this period there was no clear distinction between the Greeks and non-Greeks which is visible in the archaic Greek written record.32 As S. Hall argues, cultural identity develops from the opposition to another ethnic group, the so-called ‘Other’. This is due to the fact that identities are constructed through differences and these differences in turn can be defined through the relation to the Other.33 This opposition demands a representation of the Other who should be understood collectively as ‘people who do not belong to us’ or ‘outsiders’. This idea of the opposition us versus them has been widely adopted in the study of Greek identity. According to this idea, the encounter with the required Other took place either in the form of cross-cultural contact through overseas settlements (which began in the 8th century BC)34 or through contact with the common enemy, the Persians (at the end of the 6th and the beginning of the 5th century BC).35 At the time, the Greeks are supposed to have realised both the cultural differences and their own ‘sameness’ through their contact with non-Greek people. It is claimed that since that time, the Greeks categorised their world according to polarity – that is Greek versus barbarian. In her influential book, E. Hall develops this idea and 30 Horden and Purcell 2000; Malkin 2003a; 2011; Harris 2005. For the Black Sea region, see Dana 2011. 31 See Riva and Vella 2010. 32 J. Hall 2002. 33 S. Hall 1996, 4. 34 Malkin 2003a, 59. 35 J. Hall 1997; 2002.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

31

explores how the image of the barbarians was ‘invented’ through Greek tragedy, and how the often caricatured image of the Other was used by the Greeks (or more specifically, the Athenians) to retain their own self-identity.36 The same system based on polarities between Greeks and barbarians was also examined in an earlier study, Mirror of Herodotus by F. Hartog who demonstrated how Herodotus’ descriptions of various barbarian Others were in fact an effect of Greek ethnocentrism, since they were only represented to show a reverse reflection of the Greek Self. Thus, the representations of non-Greek people based on stereotypes were used to strengthen the Greek sense of identity.37 B. Isaac has more recently explored this issue regarding proto-racism, roots of which he found in Greek attitudes towards non-Greek peoples labelled as ‘barbarians’.38 The origin of this approach based on Greek-barbarian polarities and hostile stereotypes can be traced to post-Freudian psychoanalysis and structuralist anthropology related to the Paris school of research on the culture of ancient Greece. The school started to function during the 1960s and was inspired by the works of C. Lévi-Strauss and his interpretation of Greek mythology.39 The scholars saw the nature of myth as the expression of binary categories through which the human mind tries to create order in the world that is chaotic by nature. Thus, both the origin and deeper meaning of myth was seen as situated in every human mind. According to the structuralist approach, myth was a form of thought that was universal for all people and all cultures. The polar concepts of culture are the major mythical categories: culture/nature, man/ woman, kin/non-kin, or production/consumption, and they have a different meaning in each culture.40 In this sense, culture expresses itself by the creation of difference through myth in which a number of oppositions are represented such as man/woman in the myth of the Amazons (see Chapter 4.5), human/animal in the myth of the Centauri, and Greeks/barbarians, for example in the myth of a barbarian princess Medea who marries a Greek hero or in the representation of the Persians as the main non-Greek enemy.41 Another important factor that contributed to the adoption of the idea of polarities was E. Saïd’s Orientalism (published in 1978), due to which the concept of the Other became widely known in America.42 His work is a Postcolonial 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

E. Hall 1989b. Hartog 1988; first published as Le miroir d’Hérodote in 1980. Isaac 2004. For ancient racism, see also Tuplin 1999; 2007. Blok 1995, 118–19; B. Cohen 2000, 6; Skinner 2012, 44–45. Blok 1995, 119. Blok 1995, 120. B. Cohen 2000, 8.

32

CHAPTER 2

critique of Western imperialism and has demonstrated how the fictitious European idea of the Orient played a crucial role in justifying colonial rule over Asiatic territories (see Chapter 2.2). In fact, the Orient which is known through this imaginary representation does not exist in reality.43 Saïd saw Aeschylus’ tragedy The Persians (performed in 472 BC) as the origin of Western Orientalism, because this was the first depiction of the opposition between the West and the Orient, which is understood as the opposition us versus them.44 The idea of polarities became widely known and gained popularity in Classical Studies particularly due to Hartog’s and E. Hall’s above-mentioned influential works.45 The idea that the Greeks strengthened their self-perception through a stereotypical and caricatured image of the Other has been challenged by Gruen, who demonstrates that Greek (as well as Roman and Jewish) representations of foreigners are more nuanced and go far beyond simple stereotypes and caricature. On the contrary, ancient attitudes towards the so-called barbarian people often expressed admiration and connections through mediums such as myth, invented kinship, fictive histories and the incorporation of foreign traditions.46 It is worth mentioning that such an alternative view of the ‘alien’ has been described by Barth as characteristic in most, as he calls them, plural societies (i.e. societies composed of different ethnic groups or cultural traditions) in which ethnic relations and boundary constructions are not about the sharp opposition us and them, but more about neighbouring and familiar Others who are co-residents in surrounding social systems. Such social relations more often bring up questions of how we are distinct from them, instead of constructing a dominant and one-sided view of the Other.47 Furthermore, scholars such as E. Roosens who strongly stresses the necessity of a kinship metaphor (i.e. invented genealogical bounds) in the formation of ethnicity, point out that the representation of the outsiders can be symbolic and the imagined Other does not even have to be physically present.48 An important change in Greek self-definition is related to 4th-century Athens, when the idea of Hellenicity (i.e. Greekness or Greek identity) was reconceptualised and shifted towards a form of identity that was more cultural than ethnic. Isocrates is one of the most important sources for this shift in the 43

Saïd 1978; Young 2001, 387–89; Wengrow 2006. Saïd 1978, 56–57; see also E. Hall 1989b, 99–100; Vlassopoulos 2013, 2. 45 Hartog 1988; E. Hall 1989b; see B. Cohen 2000, 8–9; Skinner 2012, 45 with n. 174 for further literature. 46 Gruen 2011c. 47 Barth 1994, 13. 48 Roosens 1994, 93. 44

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

33

conception of identity. He believed that Greeks were culturally superior to nonGreeks, but that superiority was based not on nature, but on education and form of government (Isocrates Paneg. 50). He rejected the view of Aristotle that the barbarians were enslaved by nature and claimed that the barbarians can be raised to the level of the Greeks, king Evagoras of Cyprian Salamis being an example of this.49 As he claims, even a whole city may become ‘barbarised’ if it does not cultivate tradition and does not keep the intellectual level which provides superiority over the barbarians. Thus, to become Greek was to acquire Greek education (paideia) and to adopt Greek culture.50 Alexander the Great followed Isocrates’ programme and his conquest of the Persian empire is often seen as another step in the relationships between the Greeks and non-Greeks. It is often indicated that, as a result of the conquest and the political situation after Alexander’s death, Greek culture and identity spread across the eastern Mediterranean and Near East. This brings about another approach taken by scholars to define the process of the adoption of Greek material culture, language, literature, cult and in certain situations identity – Hellenisation.51 The process of Hellenisation is often seen as continuous and characteristic to all periods, from the Archaic onwards, and is mostly applied to the study of the Greek ‘colonial’ environment in the Mediterranean and the Black Sea to describe the adoption of elements of Greek culture by non-Greek local societies. In turn, the study of Hellenicity is mainly focused on the mainland Greece and its interaction with the Persians during the Classical period. However, such division does not apply to the Hellenistic period when both Hellenicity (in a cultural form of identity) and Hellenisation mixed together – Greekness became available to non-Greeks and Hellenisation progressed in many non-Greek communities in the East.52 As it can be seen, the discourse on the Other and their representation in Greek literature and art has recently been the subject of a series of studies that can be divided between those which highlight deep polarities between Greeks and barbarians and between East and West,53 and those which focus more on cultural interaction, reciprocity and various aspects of Greek-barbarian relations.54 However, the question as to which approach should be preferred and which should be avoided in the study of Greek representations of non-Greeks 49 See Isocrates Evagoras 66: ‘His citizens [of Cyprus], who were barbarians, he made Greek again.’ 50 See J. Hall 2002, 179–226. 51 For a vague definition of this concept, see Vlassopoulos 2013, 9. 52 Vlassopoulos 2013, 9. 53 Cartledge 1993; B. Cohen 2000; Harrison 2002; Isaac 2004. 54 Malkin 2001; Mitchell 2007; Gruen 2011a; 2011c; Bonfante 2011; Vlassopoulos 2013.

34

CHAPTER 2

is complex. As K. Vlassopoulos argues, a clear chronological division of Greek-barbarian relations into Archaic, Classical and Hellenistic periods with two key political events that brought radical changes – the Persian Wars and Alexander’s conquest – may lead to erroneous conclusions. 55 Most of the changes that are attributed to these political events predated them – both the Panhellenic community and the barbarian repertoire was already present in Greek culture before the Persian Wars. The same can be observed with regard to the spread of elements of Greek culture. An example of this is Mausolus, a native ruler of Caria who used Greek artists and Greek artistic models before the birth of Alexander the Great.56 Furthermore, the Greek construction of a sharp opposition between Hellenic freedom and Persian autocracy which can be seen in Isocrates’ letters, according to which, the Persians were considered as ‘soft’, ‘inexperienced in wars’ and ‘corrupted by luxury’ (Isocrates To Philip 124), cannot be treated as the only feature of Greek-Persian relations. It is hard to disagree with the fact that the construction of the ‘corrupted’ Orient and the polarisation between free Europe and slavish Asia had a great impact on the strengthening of Greek selfdefinition; however, as L.G. Mitchell argues, the idea of the Hellenic community was an imagined construct that structured the way the past was perceived. In that sense, the Persian Wars were ‘reinvented’ as a symbol of unity as opposition to a common barbarian enemy associated first with the Persian king and then, when the Macedonians became a threat to Greek independence, with Philip.57 Thus, the idea of a barbarian enemy that was shifting depending on the circumstances was a useful rhetorical and political tool in creating symbolic unity (or rather its utopian vision) through an idealised and shared past.58 However, Greek-barbarian relations were not limited to political issues. M.C. Miller has demonstrated that despite strong hostility towards the barbarian East visible in Athenian theatre, art and the assembly, cultural receptivity did exist between Classical Athens and Persia. Certain objects such as parasols, peacocks, Persian dress as well as exotic slaves (such as black servants at the symposium) were associated with luxury and were used as status symbols of the Athenian elite.59 Furthermore, Gruen has recently re-examined Herodotus’ narrative of Persia in order to show that Herodotus’ observations of Persian behaviour, practices, customs and beliefs do not depict a one-sided picture in which Greek values are praised and Persian values are condemned. On the contrary, Herodotus 55 56 57 58 59

Vlassopoulos 2013, 9–10. Vlassopoulos 2013, 10. Mitchell 2007, 10–12. Mitchell 2007, 78–80. Miller 1997.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

35

creates a more nuanced image that shows criticism and admiration of both the Greeks and Persians. Moreover, Herodotus uses mythology to link the Greeks and Persians to the common Argive ancestor.60 A similar approach is used by T. Hölscher who points out that military conflict did not need to lead to the rejection of a foreign lifestyle, religious cults, or wisdom of the East; thus, the idea of the Other and Greek identity varied depending on different cultural spheres.61 As it has been pointed out by Vlassopoulos, attempting to establish a chronology that reflects the development of Greek-barbarian relationships fails due to the inconsistent nature of both the Greek written sources and the archaeological evidence. Instead, it would be more productive to examine these relationships in a variety of forms that deal with the finer, more complex issues that existed in each specific environment of the Greek world: the world of networks (focusing on mobility of people and goods), the world of apoikiai (Greek ‘colonies’), the Panhellenic world (which since the Persian Wars was based on a construction of the Hellenic community) and the world of nonGreek empires in the eastern Mediterranean during the Archaic and Classical periods.62 Such an approach highlights the fact that, as Mitchell argues, Greek identity was not established at a specific moment in time, but it was constantly created and reinvented to meet the demands of a given political and social situation.63 The anthropologist S. Hall points out that identities ‘are constantly in the process of change and formation’, they ‘invoke an origin in a historical past with which they continue to correspond’, and they use ‘the resources of history, language and culture in the process of becoming’.64 As a consequence, the complexity of Greek representations of the barbarian Other that played an important role in the creation of Greek self-awareness should be understood in particular social, political, geographical and historical contexts. The nuances in Greek attitudes towards non-Greeks (and also non-Romans) become particularly visible through Isaac’s analysis of the variation in the meaning of the term barbaros that was used by the Greeks (and Romans) in different times, different literary forms, and for different purposes.65 In this sense, the 5th-century ‘invention’ of the barbarian Other in Greek tragedy should be understood in the context of Athens and the self-categorisation of the Athenians. If we shift the focus onto the world of apoikiai, such as 60 61 62 63 64 65

Gruen 2011b. Hölscher 2011. Vlassopoulos 2013. Mitchell 2007, 65. S. Hall 1996, 4. Isaac 2014, 117–37.

36

CHAPTER 2

the Black Sea region, the context changes, as does local Greek identity. The barbarian Other does not seem crucial for the development of Greek selfdefinition in the areas where the Greeks constantly came into contact with a variety of local non-Greeks. Mutual interactions, exchange, reciprocity and establishing a middle ground between Greek and non-Greek communities in the ‘colonial’ milieu go well beyond the Hellenisation approach. The Panhellenic barbarian repertoire was comprised of a number of North Pontic nonGreeks, such as the Scythians, Taurians or imaginary Amazons, who became part of the image of Greek oikoumene on a broader Panhellenic level. This begs the question as to how the function and meaning of Greek representations of North Pontic Others can be perceived in the Panhellenic context and subsequently, compared with the context of apoikiai. To begin with, it is crucial to draw our attention to the problem of how Greek apoikiai should be studied in today’s multicultural and post-colonial world. 2. GREEK COLONISATION OR GREEK SETTLEMENTS OVERSEAS? Postcolonialism (or Postcolonial Studies) emerged as a political and academic discipline in the late 20th century in Western universities. It is mainly focused on the cultural effects of European colonialism and imperialism, such as economic exploitation and social and political power over colonised people. Another focus of Postcolonialism is on the interactions within societies that were former European colonies.66 As scholars argue, it is difficult to find one moment in which Postcolonial critique can be traced; however, it is important to point out that one of the first critiques of Western colonialism and imperialism has its roots in Marx’s works in which these two phenomena were perceived as products of a capitalist global economy. Anti-colonial Marxist ideologies were widely adopted in various parts of the world where they evolved independently in countries and territories such as China, India, Africa and Latin America.67 Marxist works provided one of the sources of inspiration for Saïd, whose above-mentioned work Orientalism is widely considered to be the founding text of Postcolonial Studies.68 In his work, Saïd explains how during the postEnlightenment era European culture started to create the imaginary view of the Orient based on stereotypes and fake representations of Middle Eastern, Asian and North African societies, which were shaped mainly through British and 66 67 68

Young 2001; Liebmann 2008; Patterson 2008. Young 2001, 101–12. Saïd 1978; see also Patterson 2008, 26–27; van Dommelen 2005, 113; 2011, 1–3.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

37

French literature.69 Saïd points out that this image is still vivid in the Postmodern world, which is visible in the myth of the exotic and mysterious Orient that is maintained through television, films and media resources.70 This collective Orientalist discourse created a false consciousness, where Western culture was politically, economically, culturally and intellectually able to manage ‘the East’, which in turn led to the legitimacy of European colonial domination.71 Another leading work in Postcolonial thought is H.K. Bhabha’s The Location of Culture (influenced by Poststructuralist methodology), in which he examines the relationship between the coloniser and colonised which is often based on unconscious or passive opposition to power and cultural dominance, and results in such phenomena as hybridity (a concept widely adopted by archaeologists), mimicry (imitation of the coloniser’s culture in order to provide convenient camouflage) and ambivalence (a split in the identity of the colonised Other). Bhabha also examines the formation of subjectivity, identity and agency in the colonial context. He also introduces the term ‘hybrid cultural identities’ in the context of large-scale migration of peoples and reshaping cultural differences in new lands.72 These and other Postcolonial ideas and theories that appeared around this time have subsequently developed in cultural and critical studies, which focus mainly on the relationship between the coloniser and colonised that is produced through representations and discourse in a colonial context. This relationship is no longer explained through a clear-cut representation of colonial situations, according to which power and domination over colonised societies played a crucial role. On the contrary, Postcolonial theory suggests that the clear division between the coloniser and colonised, that is Self and Other (who is perceived through false representations), does not explain the actual relationships that existed among colonial societies. Such division does not explain, for example, the existence of pidgin and creolised languages which are actual historical ‘hybrid’ forms of cultural contact.73 Instead, previous linguistic theories tried to explain language changes through conquest, absorption or decline, thus disregarding more obvious factors such as mixture, fusion and creolisation.74 A useful conceptual framework for the explanation and understanding of cultural relationships in a colonial context has been provided by R. White in his work The Middle Ground, in which he describes cultural interaction between 69 70 71 72 73 74

Saïd 1978, 1–5. Saïd 1978, 26; see also Wengrow 2006. Patterson 2008, 26. Bhabha 1994. Young 1995, 5. Young 1995, 65.

38

CHAPTER 2

the Europeans and Indians in the region around the Great Lakes in the time between 1650 and 1815.75 The ‘middle ground’ presented in White’s work is examined both as a place in between cultures, peoples and political powers, and a process of mutual adaptation between the Indians and Europeans. The ‘middle ground’ requires a situation in which the distribution of power between peoples is relatively equal so that one side is not able to use force over the other. If the need to interact with one another (for example, to trade) arises among both sides, it leads to the establishment of mutually understandable practices through negotiation, persuasion, compromise, but also to creative misinterpretation. According to ‘middle ground’ theory, creative misunderstandings occur when people on both sides try to persuade others or justify their actions in terms of what they perceive to be the others’ values and practices. This misinterpretation of other people’s cultural framework generates ‘the shared meanings and practices of the middle ground’, which is new cultural forms intelligible to both sides.76 The concept of the ‘middle ground’ has widely been adopted by scholars to explain cultural relations in other similar social and political situations.77 In the study of Antiquity, the concept of the ‘middle ground’ has been applied by I. Malkin to the early Archaic period and the cultural situations in Greek apoikiai, and by C. Gosden who uses this model to describe one of the forms of colonialism.78 Over the last two decades, Postcolonial theory has gradually gained more prominence among Western archaeologists which has resulted in critiques of previous archaeological perspectives, interpretations and representations of colonial situations in the past.79 One of the subjects that has been closely re-examined by scholars is Greek colonisation. The term ‘Greek colonisation’ has been pointed out in literature many times, as an anachronistic expression that has been created by modern scholars who are using a false analogy with modern European colonisation and imperialism.80 However, worth noting is the fact that such a false analogy can also be found in Roman imperialism whose coloniae had more in common with modern colonies than with Greek apoikiai. Scholars indicate that the word ‘colony’ has appeared in English, and other modern languages, courtesy of ancient texts. The problem has long been discussed 75

White 1991. White 1991, x. 77 See Deloria 2006, who deals with the definition of the ‘middle ground’ and points out the risk of an unconscious simplification of this concept by certain scholars. 78 Malkin 1998; 2003a; 2005; Gosden 2004. For the importance of ‘creative misunderstandings’ (that are often neglected by scholars) in ‘middle ground’ theory, see White 2006; Antonaccio 2013. 79 For an overview, see Lydon and Rizvi 2010. 80 Osborne 1998; Malkin 2004; Owen 2005; Snodgrass 2005; Shepherd 2005. See also Tsetskhladze and Hargrave 2011. 76

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

39

in literature; however, there is no alternative name for the complex process of Greek settlements far from mainland Greek cities. A.M. Snodgrass has tried to fill this gap in terminology and has suggested using the term ‘early Greek overseas settlement’ instead of ‘Greek colonisation’.81 The term colony is less problematic due to the Greek word apoikia (i.e. home away from home), which can successfully substitute a less adequate colony. The source of the modern habit of using the term colonia with regard to the Greek cities founded outside Old Greece between the 8th and 6th centuries BC can be traced to L. Valla’s translation of Thucydides into Latin (published between 1448 and 1452).82 Valla translated Greek apoikiai into Latin coloniae, a term which is applied to Roman imperialism. Due to the fact that Roman colonies had much in common with modern European colonialism (since Roman coloniae provided a conceptual model for modern colonies), generations of scholars tended to discuss Greek apoikiai in terms of modern colonies which included many anachronistic connotations with modern history.83 It is important to stress that the problem with the term ʻGreek colonisation’ is not simply linguistic. The association of Greek apoikiai (that were, since their onset, separate entities independent of their motherland) with modern colonies (that were an effect of European imperialistic policy) has a long tradition and, as it has been pointed out, the epithet Greek does not remove all the unwanted overtones that are combined with the word colony.84 The general misconceptions that have been created on the back of using a false analogy with imperial colonisation concern issues such as: – ‘Greek colonisation’ is seen as an organized process (by a state or an individual) that had its specific purposes: land, raw materials and trade being a few examples. – The process of Greek settlement included the conquest of new territories and its indigenous population. – The Greek identity of the settlers is seen as a phenomenon that had a strong influence on local populations, who often tended to take on Greek cultural identity by using objects of Greek material culture. – Greek cultural and political predomination over the local population has been understood as a natural and obvious fact.85 81

Snodgrass 2005. However, the term colonia with regard to Greek apoikia had already occurred in Antiquity: see Curtius 4. 1. 10. 83 De Angelis 1998, 539. 84 Osborne 1998, 252. 85 After Owen 2005, 6. 82

40

CHAPTER 2

In order to understand how Western colonial experiences may have influenced the study of Classical Antiquity, it is important to realise that Classical Archaeology developed in the 19th century as a product of a Western society that believed it was part of the cultural legacy of ancient Greece and Rome.86 This belief was a result of a widespread fascination with the ancient Greeks and their culture (what scholars refer to as Graecolatry or Graecomania) which was promoted especially in the 18th-century romantic humanist vision which developed in Germany, according to which ancient Greek culture was superior to other cultures (in particular to the culture of the decadent Orient) and represented the highest possible form of human development. Thus, emulation of Greek culture soon became obligatory not only in Germany, but also in France, Britain and other Western European countries.87 By the 19th century, this ‘pan-European cultural obsession’, as M. Dietler refers to it, strongly inspired political philosophy, art, architecture as well as educational systems. The importance of the Roman legacy was often regarded as a historical mission to adopt and bring the superior Greek civilisation to the ‘barbarians’ that were incorporated into the Roman empire.88 This European myth of common cultural ancestry did not limit itself to the cultivation of Classical Antiquity, but it resulted in the belief of a legacy of colonisation. European states were seen by themselves as the legitimate heirs of Graeco-Roman civilisation who would continue the mission to ‘civilise’ the ‘barbarian’.89 Consequently, ancient Greek and Roman versions of colonialism were manipulated in order to rationalise and legitimise imperial ambitions of Western European states. One of the most significant impacts of ancient tradition on the development of modern imperialism was the absorption of the Graeco-Roman division of the world into dynamic ‘civilised’ societies and passively receptive ‘barbarians’, which had far-reaching effects that are visible in archaeological interpretive models regarding colonial contexts.90 A thorough reassessment of the history of colonialism in a broad geographical and chronological scope has recently been provided by Gosden.91 His typology of colonialism clearly illustrates distinct forms of colonisation which had different effects on cultural and power relations within colonial societies. Gosden distinguishes three main types of colonialism: cultural power, which is the earliest form of colonialism that exists in a shared cultural milieu 86 87 88 89 90 91

Van Dommelen 1997, 306; 1998, 17–24; González-Ruibal 2010. Dietler 2005, 37–38. Dietler 2005, 39. Dietler 2005, 42. Dietler 2005, 43, 56; van Dommelen 1998, 20–24. Gosden 2004.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

41

controlled by the symbolic power of material culture that become attractive to a local elite (for example, early Greek expansions around the Mediterranean and the Black Sea); middle ground, a concept derived from White’s work, which allows for the creative processes of cultural hybridisation and the creation of a functioning relationship with local peoples; such a model does not require power relations (for example, Roman colonies); terra nullius, according to which colonised lands are regarded as belonging to no one, and the settlement is justified on the grounds that the land is not properly exploited by local populations; an example of this model is the colonisation of the territories in the Pacific. Table 1. Types of colonialism (after Gosden 2004, 26, table 3.1) Cultural power

Greatest experiment and creativity

Colonialism within a shared cultural milieu Allows for forms of power operating within understood norms of behaviour.

Middle ground Accommodation and regularised relations through a working understanding of others’ social relations.

Limits of colonisation created by area over which culture shared and spread, not military might.

All parties think they are in control. Often creates new modes of difference, not acculturation. Can have profound effect on those colonising

New forms of social and cultural capital seen as novel sets of resources by local elite. Non-elite excluded from the colonial network, creating new forms of inequality.

Examples: all early forms from Mesopotamia to the Greeks; also Aztecs, Incas, early Chinese, Vikings, Tongans.

Reception of strangers depends on the categories used to classify strangers and can challenge existing categories. Great social experiment and ferment of discussion. Examples: round peripheries of Greek colonies and Roman empire, early modern contacts in North America, Africa, India, the Pacific.

Violence Terra nullius Lack of recognition of prior ways of life of people encountered leads to excuse for mass appropriation of land, destruction of social relations and death through war and disease. Exists where there are fixed categories of difference. Possible only in recent periods of colonisation. Armed invasion and mass death seen not as final, but as a phase in a longer process of resistance and cultural upheaval. Examples: the Mongols, Spaniards in Mexico and Peru; mainly creation of settler societies in North America, Russia, Australia and New Zealand from middle 18th century.

Gosden’s typology clearly indicates that not all colonial situations can be examined in terms of power and domination, nor can they be understood in binary categorisation that reduces cultural relations to a simplified opposition between colonisers and colonised, because such categorisation does not apply to every

42

CHAPTER 2

colonial context. Gosden points out that colonial cultures were created by all those who participated in them. As a consequence, all participants had agency and a social effect on colonial situations and also, the colonial experience considerably changed both colonised and colonisers.92 To follow this approach, it has to be noted that the conception behind the founding of Greek apoikiai had no aggressive character from the outset. As Malkin states, the Greeks did not aim for vast territorial conquest, but rather they set up city-states in relatively small territories.93 On the contrary, there is evidence of situations when Greek apoikiai had to pay a tribute to local rulers, such as in the case of the Odrysian kingdom in Thrace.94 It should also be taken into consideration the possibility that military conflicts may have existed not only among the Greeks and barbarians, but also among the Greeks themselves. It has been suggested that the traces of destruction found beneath the city walls of Olbia may have been the result of a siege of the city by Alexander’s general, Zopyrion rather than a barbarian attack.95 Also, there is no real evidence to assume that Greek settlers tended to have any cultural domination over local populations, be that through exportation of elite goods from Old Greece or by adopting the more ‘attractive’ traditions of the homeland.96 On the contrary, objects such as architecture and pottery discovered at Greek colonies tended to represent its own style and form that derived from a different, ‘colonial’ environment. Due to the lack of adequate archaeological terminology, the concept of hybridity has widely been adopted by scholars to explain the situations in ancient colonial contexts, in particular in the Greek apoikiai in Italy and Phoenician and Carthaginian settlements in the Mediterranean.97 In Postcolonial theory, the term ‘hybridity’ is used to refer to the creation of trans-cultural forms within a contact zone, forms that cannot be classified into single cultural or ethnic categories and also bear new cultural meanings.98 Hybridity is a useful concept especially in the situations in which there is a strong willingness to identify and distinguish between the Greeks and the local population through the archaeological record, although such distinction is not clear and it often provides mixed, Greek and non-Greek material. Hybridity does not require problematic classificatory labels such as Greek or indigenous, because it refers to a distinctive local culture and identity.99 92

Gosden 2004, 25. Malkin 2004, 348. 94 Archibald 2002, 65 with n. 80. See also the honorific inscription for Protogenes from Olbia in which such a tribute is mentioned: IOSPE I2 32. 95 Karjaka 2008. 96 Shepherd 2005, 34–36. 97 See van Dommelen 1997; 2005; 2006. 98 Van Dommelen 2006, 136. 99 Van Dommelen 1998, 214–15; 2006, 139–40; cf. Antonaccio 2003; 2010. 93

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

43

As mentioned above, the concept of hybridity in a modern colonial context has particularly been propagated and elaborated by the anthropologist Bhabha.100 He describes the process of hybridity as an effect of an ambiguity – a situation in which the societies that inhabit a colonised region have a distinctive hybrid identity and are no longer indigenous and colonial. It is important to mention though that the use of hybridity to explain cultural relations in Antiquity may lead to misconceptions, which have been pointed out in literature when hybridity is used to explain colonial relations in general.101 An example of poor use of this concept is S. McWilliam’s article ‘Hybridity in Herodotus’, in which she seems to understand hybridity simply as Greek-barbarian contacts and she calls Herodotus a ‘theorist of hybridity’.102 Another problem with the concept of hybridity concerns the use of this term in the 19th century when it denoted a lack of racial purity leading to degeneration.103 In order to avoid these racist or biological connotations, scholars suggest using the alternative, associated term hybridisation.104 The concept of cultural superiority of the colonisers is based on the concept of acculturation. This concept was rooted in the functionalist paradigm of anthropology and was a leading approach in anthropological studies up to the 1970s. Then, it continued to appear within archaeological research in which the term acculturation readily replaced the out-dated concept of Hellenisation without changing the actual interpretation of this concept.105 The weakness of the Hellenisation/acculturation approach lies in the assumption that indigenous societies – seen as passive recipients – were adopting elements of Greek culture – seen as dynamic and more powerful – often together with Greek identity. However, this conception fails when examining the history of Greek apoikiai which prove that the cultural relations between the Greeks and the local populations were not a one-way influence – one that assumed the adoption by the locals of Greek material culture due to its natural attractiveness and also cultural superiority.106 According to modern Postcolonial theories, the process of Hellenisation should not be seen as a natural and obvious phenomenon, because that view is a result of a typical Hellenocentric approach.107 This approach also 100

Bhabha 1994. For a critique, see Dietler 2009, 29–31; for a defence, see van Dommelen 2006, 138–39. 102 McWiliams 2013. 103 For the history of the use of the term ‘hybridity’, see Young 1995, 1–28. 104 Van Dommelen 2005, 117–18; 2006, 138–39. Some scholars prefer the form ‘hybridisation’ (see, for example, Bilde 2008), whereas others continue to use ‘hybridity’ (see, for example, Antonaccio 2003; Vlassopoulos 2013). 105 Dietler 2009, 25–26. 106 Owen 2005, 13. 107 Owen 2005, 13–16. 101

44

CHAPTER 2

does not take into consideration the fact that at the time of colonisation the Greeks, who lived in hundreds of small, autonomous city-states, had not developed an idea of unity and superiority of Greekness, nor did they want to ‘civilise’ local societies according to their system of values and beliefs.108 A useful approach to ancient colonisation has been suggested by P. van Dommelen who argues that every colonial situation is locally constructed and should be examined in its individual regional context.109 Therefore, a Postcolonial perspective should focus on the fact that each colonised region has its own colonial strategy due to both the differences in colonial intentions and policies, and distinctive regional situations encountered by colonisers. This includes different reactions of the local populations who play an important role in shaping colonial situations.110 It is noticeable that Postcolonial critique has gained popularity especially amongst Western (especially English-speaking) scholarship whereas it is almost absent in Classical Studies in post-Soviet and Eastern European countries.111 This lack of interest in Postcolonial Studies in Eastern scholarship can perhaps be explained by the lack of colonial experiences or by the fact that colonial experiences were an effect of different political circumstances, as in the case of Russian colonialism. As a result, Postcolonial study was initially focused on the ancient settlements in the western Mediterranean and only recently the Black Sea region has become a subject of Postcolonial investigation.112 One of the most discussed issues concerning cultural encounters in the northern Black Sea area is the early type of dwelling used by the first colonists – dugouts and semi-dugouts. The use of these local types of dwellings was a common phenomenon not only in the northern Black Sea area, but also in other regions such as Colchis, the Bulgarian coast and Italy.113 For many years, scholars strongly supported the idea that the appearance of semi-dugouts and dugouts is characteristic of the first phase of Greek settlement during which a large number of dugout structures have been found, especially at the Berezan settlement and Olbia. This kind of architecture was considered to have a local influence which has created dispute amongst scholars about the ethnicity of the inhabitants of these structures – whether they were indigenous peoples or Greek 108

Malkin 2004, 344–45. Van Dommelen 2005, 139–40. 110 Van Dommelen 2005, 138. 111 With rare exceptions such as Dolukhanov 2010, who discusses Soviet colonialism in the 1920s and 1930s, and Gorshenina 2012, who refers to the colonial situation in Turkestan. 112 Stein 2005; Dietler and López-Ruiz 2009; Riva and Vella 2006; van Dommelen 1998; Carstens 2006. For the northern Black Sea, see Braund 2008. 113 Tsetskhladze 2002b, 82. 109

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

45

settlers.114 The first dugout structures in the chora of Olbia were recorded in the 1950s at Shirokaya Balka 1. Consequently, the settlement was automatically classified as non-Greek and attributed to a local population called the ‘Callipidian culture’ named after the Herodotean Callipidae (Herodotus 4. 17. 1). However, further investigation revealed Greek material at the settlement as well as cultural and administrative links with Olbia.115 One of the theories assumes that the Greeks took over the tradition of the use of this kind of construction from the local population, because they are more functional in the colder climate of the northern Black Sea region.116 S.L. Solovyov claims that the first settlers represented a group of traders who were more able to adapt to diverse conditions of life than other groups of society – in particular, craftsmen and farmers. From his view the reason for using a local type of dwelling was concerned more with the natural attitudes common to traders than by the lack of building materials or specific climatic conditions.117 Others indicate that the use of dugout constructions demonstrates that poverty and slow economic development existed in the first Greek settlements, which led to the adaptation of the local building tradition.118 The question of the use of (semi-)dugouts has been closely re-examined by V.D. Kuznetsov who discusses the early housing constructions in the Archaic period (from the 7th to the beginning of the 5th century BC) at the Berezan settlement and Olbia. He proves that there is no reason to believe that dugout constructions were a phenomenon characteristic of the first phase of Greek settlement in the northern Black Sea region, stating that the poor preservation of the cultural levels dating to the Archaic period (which was caused by rebuilding, the levelling of the soil for new constructions and the re-use of earlier building material in later periods) does not allow for such a conclusion. As a matter of fact, at certain settlements, such as Kutsurub 1 in the chora of Olbia, dugout constructions were in use as long as the 3rd century BC.119 Moreover, the existence of above-ground buildings has also been attested in northern Black Sea Greek apoikiai during the Archaic period.120 Also, it appears that in certain regions the natural conditions did not allow for the use of dugouts. This is visible in Porthmion where no Archaic dugout constructions have been found 114

Solovyov 1998, 212–13; 1999, 32–34; Tsetskhladze 1998b, 44. Kryzhitskii et al. 1990, 25–26. 116 Tsetskhladze 1998b, 20–21. For possible provenance of pit-houses form Asia Minor, see Tsetskhladze 2002b, 82, n. 13. 117 Solovyov 1998, 212–13. 118 For more details regarding the theories about dugout constructions in the northern Black Sea region and for further literature in Russian, see Kuznetsov 1999. 119 Marchenko 2013, 77. 120 Kuznetsov 1999. 115

46

CHAPTER 2

so far, most probably due to the presence of the bedrock under a thin layer of soil, whereas remains of an above-ground house have been recorded at the site (with parallels identified in nearby Myrmekion).121 This shows that at least in certain areas dugout architecture cannot be associated with the first phase of Greek settlement. Kuznetsov also indicates that not all dugout structures should be interpreted as houses, since some of them may have been used for husbandry purposes. Parts of the (semi-)dugouts may in fact have been (semi-)basements of mud-brick (or stone) houses with a ground floor room.122 In his comparative analysis of dugout architecture, Tsetskhladze discusses various aspects of such constructions and points out that in fact all interpretations are to some extent correct.123 It is true that dugout constructions were well known among the Scythian population and it is very likely that Black Sea apoikiai were ethnically mixed from the beginning. Consequently, certain pit-houses may have indeed been inhabited by non-Greeks. An ethnic mixture was a phenomenon that was characteristic not only of Black Sea apoikiai, but also of their mother cities. For example, the study of Archaic Miletus has demonstrated that the city was inhabited by both Greeks and non-Greeks such as Carians.124 Also, it seems probable that Milesian settlers were familiar with dugout architecture, since similar constructions have been recorded among the neighbouring local population in Ionia.125 Similarly, during the first stage of the settlement in Metaponto in Magna Graecia dugout architecture was in use (especially in the chora), which was inspired by construction methods of the local population.126 This points not only to cultural appropriation and exchange among the settlers, but also to a cross-cultural character of dugout constructions. Another common tendency in literature is to put strong emphasis on trade being the catalyst for Greek settlement in the Black sea region.127 For example, in his monograph of Greek settlement on Berezan Island, Solovyov’s view is that the first colonisers were a group of sailors and traders whose expedition was caused mainly by their commercial interests in the Lower Southern Buh area and the search for goods such as fish, timber, metal and grain. However, the importance of the Black Sea region’s natural resources as one of the main reasons for settling apoikiai has been questioned. Recent studies show 121

Vakhtina 2003, 45-46, 50. Kuznetsov 1999. 123 Tsetskhladze 2004. 124 Greaves 2002, 122; Tsetskhladze 2004, 270; see also Herodotus 1. 146–147 for the complex ethnic composition of the Ionians. 125 Tsetskhladze 2004, 267–72. 126 Tsetskhladze 2004, 252–53. 127 See, for example, Solovyov 1999, 30. For the history of the ‘emporial’ theory in Soviet and Russian scholarship, see Petropoulos 2005, 9–19. 122

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

47

that the southern and eastern parts of the region were not as rich in metal resources as had been claimed before. A more convincing point of view is that trade was a by-product of the process of establishing new settlements rather than a reason.128 The notion regarding the importance of exporting grain from the Black Sea region is also a well-established scholarly tradition which has recently been re-examined. This exaggerated importance of the grain trade in the North Pontic region has been pointed out in literature many times.129 It has been confirmed through both archaeological material and literary source that there is no evidence for grain trade before the 5th century BC. Also, from the 5th century onwards, the grain trade between the Black Sea cities, Athens and the Aegean world was conducted irregularly and on a small scale. Additionally, grain was not the most important Black Sea import.130 The nature of the relationship between the Greek settlers and the local populations in the Black Sea region is another widely discussed issue. It has been argued that during the initial phase of Greek settlement in the Archaic period (the so-called Ionian colonisation, in contrast to the later more aggressive Dorian colonisation) peaceful relations and exchange existed in the northern Black Sea coast.131 Three indicators have been used to support this view: (1) a large amount of local hand-made pottery found at most Greek sites in the 7th century BC;132 (2) the fact that no fortification systems dated before the 5th century BC have been found in North Pontic Greek apoikiai, with the exception of Porthmion (near Panticapaeum);133 (3) the fact that there are no traces of destruction at Greek cities in the northern Black Sea region in the 7th and 6th centuries BC.134 As J.M. Højte points out, it would be difficult to imagine the situation in which a Greek apoikia was successfully founded and had a chance to survive without establishing a working relationship with the 128

Tsetskhladze 1994; 1998b, 51–67. Tsetskhladze 1994, 124; 1997. For a thorough analysis, see Braund 2007a. For the 4th century BC, see also Moreno 2007a; 2007b, 146–208. 130 Braund 2007a; Noonan 1973. For the importance of the slave trade in the northern Black Sea region, see Braund 2007d. 131 See especially the proceedings from the conferences in Tskhaltubo: Lordkipanidze 1979; 1981. See also Tsetskhladze 2002b, 90; Petropoulos 2005. 132 Which should not be regarded as an ethnic marker but rather as proof of contact, exchange and peaceful co-existence; however, it is worth mentioning that six sherds of hand-made local pottery daubed with Greek graffiti have also been discovered in the area which shows that the Greeks may have used pottery that was produced in local workshops: Tsetskhladze 1998b, 44; 2002, 83; Højte 2008, 152. 133 Tolstikov 1997, 228–29; Vakhtina 2003, 51–52. 134 Tsetskhladze 2002b, 83; with the exception of Porthmion and Myrmekion, where destruction layers dating to the end of the 6th century BC have been found (see Vakhtina 2003, 51). 129

48

CHAPTER 2

local population who were as active as the Greeks in creating the colonial situation.135 J.M. Højte also notices that there are places on the map of the Black Sea shore, such as the southern coast of the Crimea, where Greek apoikiai were never founded. This indicates that establishing a good relationship with the local population was perhaps not possible everywhere. An example of the importance of strong relations between Greek poleis and locals is Olbia. The parallels between the periods of prosperity at Olbia and the situation in the hinterland suggest that the city closely co-operated with neighbouring nomadic and semi-nomadic populations.136 Højte argues that Greek apoikiai should be perceived not only as a source of income for the Greeks, but also as beneficial for local populations who allowed the Greeks to settle in their land. Thus, the economic significance of the Greek apoikiai to the locals, positive or negative, seems a crucial factor behind the success or failure of a Greek apoikia.137 An important influence of Postcolonial thought on the study of Greek settlement in the North Pontic area is visible in fresh approaches that have been applied to cultural encounters in this region. The main focus of the study of colonial experiences has shifted from a ‘coloniser’ (Greek) to a ‘colonised’ (local) perspective.138 As a consequence, Greek-barbarian relations are no longer perceived as one-sided, since the existence of every Greek apoikia required at least a certain degree of co-operation with a local population. Furthermore, modern research goes beyond traditional questions as to when and for what purpose Greek apoikiai were founded, because the creation of a community in a new land is not perceived as a point in time, but as a long and complex process in which colonial origins, as part of a city’s identity, were created and often reinvented by the settlers themselves.139 Another influence of Postcolonialism in Classical Studies is the approach that focuses on the distinctive nature of each settlement due to different economic and socio-political circumstances that existed in every ‘colonial’ context.140 The adoption of such an approach seems crucial for the understanding of intercultural relations in the North Pontic region, which will be discussed later in this study. It is important to stress that Postcolonial theory and modern approaches to ethnicity and self-identity can shed new light on the question of how Greek 135

Højte 2008, 151–54. Archibald 2002, 56. 137 Højte 2008, 155. 138 Such a perspective has long been the focus of Soviet scholarship: see, for example, Lordkipanidze 1981. 139 For a new approach, see Braund 2008, 347–48. For a synthetic approach combining Eastern and Western traditions, see Petropulos 2005. For traditional study, see for example Graham 1958; Boardman 1999a. 140 For the Mediterranean, see van Dommelen 2005, 139–40. 136

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

49

identity developed in the Greek apoikiai on the northern Black Sea coast. The crucial questions that will be discussed below are what influence the ‘colonial’ context had on the way in which Greek local identity was created and what tools were used in this creation. 3. THE CREATION

OF A

CITY’S LOCAL IDENTITY

As mentioned above, it is argued that cross-cultural contact between the Greeks and non-Greeks in Greek apoikiai contributed to the emergence of the idea of Greekness. This was possible first, through the newly observed differences of various Others, and second, through a common ‘colonial’ experience among the settlers.141 It should be taken into consideration though that the settlers were not a homogenous group of Greeks that had been sent out by their mother city, but they were rather a mixture of various Greeks led by their founder. The entire expedition, a ‘cohesive nuclei of settlers’ as Malkin refers to it, had to create their own collective identity, one that reflected their common experience of migration and their involvement in the creation of a new cohesive society.142 At that time, settlers became citizens due to the common experience of having participated in the foundation process. Collective ‘colonial’ society was a new entity expressed especially by the formal means of cult and by absorption into the social, religious and political order reflected in city’s nomima.143 These factors led to the creation of regional collective Greek identities, for example Milesian or Megarian.144 This was possible through the invention and manipulation of tradition, shaping the past and establishing collective memory. Such a process, which is often called intentional history, is the projection in time of the elements of self-categorisation that creates a group’s distinctive identity.145 At the same time, Greek apoikiai needed to integrate into a broader sense of Panhellenic identity, which was expressed through ritual (such as the participation in the Pythian Games at Delphi), the participation and dedications in the Panhellenic sanctuaries in Olympia and Delphi, and the use of the Panhellenic mythical framework in the expression of ‘colonial’ origin.146 Phenomena such as the creation of local identities, collective memory and intentional history in the North Pontic apoikiai have not warranted particular 141

Malkin 2003a; 2009. Malkin 2009, 378. 143 Malkin 2009, 386–90; 1994; 2003a, 67; 2003b, 164–66. 144 Malkin 2009, 378–79. See also Antonaccio 2001 for a detailed discussion on the development of the Sikeliote identity as a reaction to the ‘colonial’ experience of the Greeks. 145 Foxhall and Luraghi 2010, 9; see also Braund 1998. 146 Malkin 2003a; 2009. For the Black Sea region, see also Dana 2011. 142

50

CHAPTER 2

interest, especially in Eastern scholarship. Instead, one of the most frequently discussed issues in literature are the dates of the foundation of Greek apokiai.147 What is evident is that some scholars rely solely on written information,148 whilst others prefer to use the archaeological data.149 The written sources are frequently disregarded as firm evidence due to the fact that first, the information is not contemporary to the proposed foundation dates (most of the written evidence about Archaic colonisation dates from the Classical period), and second, it is not of the highest quality because of the lack of objectivity in this kind of Greek literature.150 However, such an approach does not take into consideration the fact that literary sources reflect the colonial traditions that were crucial for the development of local identities within North Pontic communities. As mentioned above, colonial origins were commonly rooted in myths through which the Greeks could connect to the broader Panhellenic world and also establish a new local identity and a self-image of the city. In this sense, while studying the importance of mythical stories in the life and functioning of Black Sea apoikiai, myth appears not only as an important factor behind the creation of a city’s self-identity, but it also unified and created co-operation between the Greeks and non-Greek peoples. Such an aspect of myth is especially visible in the case of the Odrysian rulers of Thrace, whose genealogy was reinvented by the Greeks in the 5th century BC and traced to the mythical marriage of Thracian Tereus and Athenian Procne. Such genealogy, accepted as a historical reality, served as an important factor behind the improvement of the relations between Athens and the Odrysian kingdom during that time.151 Similar common genealogy regarding the origin of the Scythians as descendants of Heracles can be found in Herodotus’ Scythian logos, which will be discussed in further detail in the next chapter. Mythology was a crucial factor in the creation of a common ancestry amongst settlers, even though this sort of kinship between citizens was not a biological but a cultural entity. This kinship was projected into a mythical history, which was often expressed in terms of a Greek heroic past that allowed for the development of a sense of collective identity.152 As a result, Greek apoikiai, that were aware of being much younger than the heroic world of Old Greece, through sharing a common sense of a wider Panhellenic identity could become as old as their mother cities by sharing the times of mythical heroes such as 147 148 149 150 151 152

Boardman 1991; 1999a; Tsetskhladze 1994; 1998b. Graham 1958. Boardman 1991. For the nature of written material, see Malkin 1987, 115; 2009, 374. Thucydides 2. 29; Mitchell 1997, 137–39; Braund 2002, 73. Malkin 2003a, 64; Gehrke 2001, 307; cf. Antonaccio 2001, 122–24.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

51

Heracles, whose life from a mythological point of view may even be transferred to the times before the Trojan War.153 A notable example of the intentional use of genealogy and common kinship can be found in the Bosporan kingdom where the non-Greek ruling dynasties traced their origin to the mythical Greek past. Such a Greek genealogy appears to have been an important element of self-representation for Bosporan rulers who could use their Greek descent both to express their ‘Greekness’ and legitimise their rule. Epigraphic evidence indicates that Rhescuporis II, Sauromates I and Rhescuporis III considered Poseidon, his son Eumolpus, and Heracles as their ancestors (CIRB 53, 980 and 1048).154 According to V.F. Gaidukevich, the occurrence of Eumolpus in the genealogy should be traced to the Spartocid dynasty, who maintained a close relationship with Thrace that was the land once inhabited by Eumolpus.155 The long-lasting tradition of such a genealogy can be proven by tiles dated to the 3rd century BC that bear the inscription βασιλική and a stamp representing the emblems of the dynasty – a trident and a dolphin.156 A trident also occurs on coin types of Sauromates II and Rhescuporis III.157 Heracles, however, does not appear to be included in the genealogy before the 1st century AD, as is visible in the aforementioned inscriptions.158 As Malkin points out, myths associated with a territory have two functions. First, they may ‘open up’ the territory for the settlers by legitimising their rights to inhabit it. Second, sometimes they close the territory by defining the end of expansion and justifying territorial limits. He also indicates that the so-called opening myths evolved simultaneously with Greek territorial expansion. The myths or rather certain mythic episodes and events were identified with particular places (localisation), events (concretisation) and located in a particular moment of time (temporalisation).159 Since mythic geography and the myth itself were extremely flexible in the Greek world, they could be easily deported from the homeland by Greek settlers and used as one of the factors when familiarising new lands. Myths concerning the foundation of Greek apoikiai were closely combined with religion and cult which is indicated by the important role of oracles, seers, foundation rites and the founder’s cult in the life of the Greek settlers.160 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160

Malkin 2003a, 65. Rusyaeva 2005, 423. Gajdukevič 1971, 67, 339. Gajdukevič 1971, 66–67. Gajdukevič 1971, 355 and Taf. VI.89–91. See Rusyaeva 2005, 455. Malkin 1994, 169. See especially Dougherty 1993.

52

CHAPTER 2

The cult of the founder was another important factor behind creating selfidentity of Greek apoikiai. It is significant that unlike most colonial cults, founder’s cults could not have been brought from the mother city due to its function. The idea of this cult was reflected through expressing self-identity within the new citizens and creating a foundation history as a part of collective memory; a memory that was ritualised in the annual heroic cult of the founder in the agora of a city (in the political and religious centre of the city), where the founder was customarily buried. Due to the fact that the founder still possessed the land after his death, his burial indicates his protection over the community and also stresses the link between the citizens and their new land. It seems to be significant that most Greek apoikiai preserved for posterity not only the name of their founders and the name of the mother city, but they also memorialized the date of the foundation. As Malkin points out, the beginnings (arche) must be sharply defined. That is why people tended to have one concrete date, a single year of foundation, even though the process of setting up a city could in fact have taken many years, or one generation at least.161 The entire process of foundation included such elements as: the decision to set up an apoikia, consultation of the oracle, the establishment of the city in the new territory. The starting point was indicated by the arrival of settlers, whereas the whole process ended with the death of the founder. Thus, the foundation can be considered both symbolically as an event and historically as a process.162 The existence of the founder allowed for the development of the city-identity based on a new historical beginning.163 An important factor occurs when the myth of the founders has been historicised and finally included into history by the citizens. This moment can be considered as the beginning of the community’s collective memory and the so-called intentional history that seems to characterise the mentality of a particular group of people.164 The social memory of the past allows the community to be aware of the distinctive nature of its historical experiences; it also enables the creation of a sense of group identity. As a result, each community is able to identify itself as long as it can recollect its own past.165 The concept of collective memory was first introduced by the sociologist, M. Halbwachs who argued that groups (such as families, social classes or religious communities) reconstruct their past experiences collectively, which creates a shared identity. According to this theory, memory depends on the 161 Malkin 1994, 127–28. For the role of the founder (ktistes), see Malkin 1987, 135–86. For the cult of the founder, see also Dougherty 1993, 24–27. 162 Malkin 2009, 375. 163 Malkin 1994, 127. 164 See Gehrke 2001. 165 Giangiulio 2001, 116–17.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

53

social environment which establishes a framework for it. Consequently, the way in which an individual understands the past is strongly linked to group consciousness.166 However, Halbwachs stressed an essential difference between collective memory which is flexible and changeable depending on present circumstances, and the more objective historical memory. This distinction has been proven to be too sharp, since it does not consider social and religious constants expressed through a city’s nomima, sacred laws, festivals or the cult of the founder, elements that are part of both historical tradition and collective memory.167 The idea of intentional history, popularised especially by H.J. Gehrke, seems to provide a more helpful model for conceptualising group memory in Greek society due to the fact that it takes into consideration the dynamism and malleability of collective memory and so-called framework constants which remain less changeable.168 When examining the tradition of the colonial origin, a proxeny decree from the city of Chersonesus dated to the 2nd century AD deserves special attention (IOSPE I2 364). The inscription mentions two groups of citizens – Chersonaseitai and ‘those who are citizens by origin’ (τοῖς Χερσονασείταις κἀπὸ γένους πολείταις), which has been interpreted as ‘the direct descendants of those who founded the city’. The reason for distinguishing the citizens who were ἀπὸ γένους from the rest may have been political, as V.I. Kadeev suggests, and perhaps indicated those citizens who had full citizen’s rights.169 However, it should not be excluded that such a distinction may have been more a matter of prestige for the families who could trace their descent from the founders of Chersonesus. A parallel situation can be observed in Cyrene where the first of the Theran settlers, those that sailed on the two ships under the leadership of Battos (the ktistes), were considered as the symbolic founders and original citizens of the city. Over the following generations many more (also non-Theran) settlers arrived in the city; however, the prestige of belonging to the ‘aristocracy’ of the first settlers seems to be raised among the citizens, which was clearly expressed by the poet Callimachus in the Hellenistic period who was proud to be a ‘Battiad’.170 A similar tradition of the citizens’ origin may have been established in Chersonesus, even though it is not certain about the exact nature of the privileged status that the citizens apo genous may have enjoyed in the polis. However, another, perhaps more plausible interpretation 166

Halbwachs 1950. Malkin 2003a. 168 Gehrke 2001; 2010; Malkin 2003a; 2003b. For intentional history, see also Foxhall et al. 2010; Marincola et al. 2012. 169 Kadeev 1974, 61. 170 Malkin 2003b, 162, n. 23; see also Herter 1931, 439. 167

54

CHAPTER 2

can be made, namely that the formula apo genous may have been used to distinguish between inborn citizens and those who acquired citizenship through a proxeny.171 This can be supported by the analysis carried out by A. Chaniotis who associates the term hoi apo genous poleitais (interpreted as ‘those who are citizens through descent’) with similar phrases that appear in roughly contemporary Chersonesean inscriptions such as IOSPE I2 359 (οἱ ἔμφυτοι τῶν ἀστῶν: ‘the natural/innate among the citizens’) and SEG 45.985 (οἱ ἀρχᾶθεν Χερσονησῖται: ‘those who are Chersonesitans from the beginning’; 2nd/3rd century AD).172 Such a hierarchical division of citizens may have been caused by the fact that at the time, the city had to cope with a difficult demographic situation, namely the lack of citizens that is attested in SEG 55.838. The reaction to the demographic problem in the city may have been the granting of citizenship to citizens of other cities as well as to the non-Greek population, which seems to correspond with the onomastic material from Chersonesus.173 Worth examining also are local nomima that were customary institutions established shortly after the foundation of an apoikia.174 Nomima served as a tool in mediating the social, political and religious order among settlers, they also reflected the collective identity of a new political community. The importance of nomima is expressed by Thucydides who considers them to be an identifying feature of a Greek polis (Thucydides 6. 5. 1 and 6. 4. 4). The settlers, who were a multicultural co-opted mixture of people rather than a heterogeneous group, needed to accept and conform to the new rules largely determined by nomima that defined the formative middle ground for a new collective society.175 Nomima were not dependent on foundation myths or invented traditions; contrarily, they were common, independent and ʻneutral’ features of a city’s identity, often transported from its mother city.176 One of the aspects of nomima were sacred calendars which were based on theophoric month names that usually followed major cults and festivals in the city.177 It is assumed that the adoption of the same theophoric month names by an apoikia was often combined with the adoption of the associated cult from the mother city; however, it did not indicate any kind of dependence between the cities.178 Such an example of a local cult transferred from the mother city can be found in Olbia where an Orphic-Dionysiac cult that has been attested 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178

Personal communication with V. Stolba, December 2014. Chaniotis 2017, 155. Chaniotis 2017, 154–55. See Malkin 2003a, 67–71; 2009, 386–90. Malkin 2009, 388; 2003a, 67–68. Malkin 2003a, 68–69. Malkin 2009, 387. Malkin 2009, 389; 2003a, 69.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

55

on three bone tablets (interpreted as membership tokens) dated to the 5th century BC (SEG 28.659) may have been linked to the cult of Dionysus Baccheios worshipped in Miletus.179 In the case of the northern Black Sea cities, two calendars have been recorded – in Olbia and Chersonesus. All Olbian months are known from a dedication to Apollo Delphinios Iatros Thargelios that was found on the bottom of a vase dated to the middle of the 5th century BC (SEG 30.99).180 It has been established that the months correspond closely to those of Miletus, the mother city of Olbia.181 Although there is no information concerning the calendar of Megara (the mother city of Heraclea Pontica and ʻgrandmother’ city of Chersonesus), distinct similarities have been pointed out between the calendars of the cities founded by Megara, Byzantium and Selymbria, and also between the apoikiai of Heraclea Pontica, Callatis and Chersonesus. It is assumed that these similarities point to a common Megarian source.182 Worth mentioning is the Chersonesean month Herakleios, whose name has been recorded in Chersonesean inscriptions.183 Another common aspect of nomima between Megara and Chersonesus, and also other Megarian apoikiai are the names of magistracies: an annual eponymous basileus (IOSPE I2 186–187), aisymnatai and aisymnoi.184 Moreover, the citizen body was organised in hekatostyes as it was in Megara.185 The cult of Apollo in Olbia appears to be not only another link between the city and Miletus but also an important aspect of city’s self-image. Epigraphic material from Olbia clearly indicates that the cult was present mainly in the city and was virtually absent in the Olbian chora.186 This urban aspect of the cult of Apollo was most likely stressed by the Olbian coinage with the representation of dolphins that may have been connected with the cult of Apollo Delphinios.187 Moreover, the significant role of Apollo and his oracle in Dodona in the foundation process of Milesian apoikiai has been pointed out in literature on several occasions.188 Another important piece of information is the fragment 179

See LSAM 48 (276/5 BC); M. West 1983, 17–18 and fig. 1; Hinge 2008, 371; Bilde 2008. Dubois 1996, 99. 181 Dubois 1996, 163–64; Malkin 2009, 390. 182 Antonetti 1997, 84; Avram et al. 2004, 942; Malkin 2009, 389. 183 IOSPE I2 402; 359 with a form Harakleios (μανὸς Ἁρακλείου); dated to the 2nd century AD. See Rusyaeva 2005, 451–52, who suggests the religious conservatism of the Chersonesitans in the cult of Heracles. 184 Sherk 1992, 235–36; Antonetti 1997, 84; Avram et al. 2004, 942; Malkin 2009, 389. 185 Avram et al. 2004, 942; Malkin 2009, 389. For Megarian apoikiai in more detail, see Robu 2014. 186 Braund 2007b, 56. 187 Braund 2007b, 76. 188 See Rusyaeva 2005, 204–12; Y.G. Vinogradov and Kryžickij 1995, 109–11. For further literature, see Braund 2007b, 56 with n. 71. 180

56

CHAPTER 2

of Alcaeus’ poetry in which Apollo is imagined beyond the North in the land of Hyperboreans (Alcaeus, fr. 307c). With that in mind, it can be assumed that the presence of Apollo in Olbia as a city god may have been imagined by the settlers as a return to the North – an idea that could build a stronger link between the city and the region.189 It is worth mentioning that the motif of return and its profound importance in the creation of new identity amongst the settlers has been closely examined by Malkin, mainly by studying the return of Heraklides in the case of Spartan settlement.190 As mentioned above, apoikiai were usually fully independent poleis and the adoption of nomima was not synonymous with copying cults from the mother city.191 On the contrary, apoikiai often had their own independent cults as it was in the case of Heracles, who was worshipped not only in Heraclea Pontica and Chersonesus but also in other Megarian apoikiai. The cult of Heracles did not originate in the mother city and it was most likely a ʻcolonial’ invention.192 Of particular interest is the cult of Heracles in Chersonesus and its chora in connection with the city’s coinage, on which Heracles’ head in a lion skin is represented.193 It has been suggested by Saprykin that the occurrence of these coins may have reflected the city’s efforts to restore good relations with its mother city, Heraclea Pontica, that were broken off in the late 4th century BC, since Heracles was the founder and the main hero of Heraclea.194 This would indicate how apoikiai could creatively manipulate their tradition for a specific purpose. Since the narrative potential of the images on coins and their significance for the expression of civic identities has been proven to be extremely powerful,195 the coinage may have been used to strengthen or loosen the bonds with the mother city depending on a particular political or economic situation. However, it has to be noted that the coin chronology accepted by the author (from 280250 BC until the late 3rd century BC) is outdated.196 The current state of research indicates that the coins were minted from the last third of the 4th century BC up to the early 2nd century BC.197 Moreover, one the iconographic types of the coins (Fig. 4.1)198 closely resembles Alexander’s tetradrachms (Fig. 4.2); the 189

See Braund 2007b, 56–57. Malkin 1994; see also Malkin 1998. 191 Malkin 2009, 389. 192 Antonetti 1997, 84. 193 See Anokhin 1980, pls. VII and VIII. 194 Saprykin 1997, 218. For the cult of Heracles in Heraclea, see Saprykin 2005, 107–15. 195 See, for example, Howgego et al. 2005; Skinner 2010. 196 See Anokhin (1980, nos. 91–120, 127–132; 2011, nos. 715–744, 752–759), who dates the coins to 280–210 BC. 197 Stolba 1989, 62–69; 2004a, 59. 198 Anokhin 1980, nos. 93–120; 2011, nos. 717–731. 190

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

57

Fig. 4. Greek coins: Drachm of Chersonesus with a representation of Heracles wearing a lion skin. Ca. 210–200 BC. Leu Auction, Auction 2 (11.05.2018), lot 67; 19 mm, 4.78 g. Tetradrachm of Alexander the Great. 336–323 BC. Leu Auction, Web Auction 6 (9.12.2018), lot 73; 24 mm, 17.19 g. Coin of Panticapaeum with a representation of a bearded Satyr and a griffin. Ca. 310–304/3 BC. Leu Auction, Web Auction 6 (9.12.2018), lot 203; 20 mm, 6.48 g. Coin of Chersonesus with a representation of Parthenos wearing a corona muralis. Ca. 110–90 BC. Leu Auction, Auction 2 (11.05.2018), lot 68; 19 mm, 4.17 g. Gold stater of Chersonesus with a representation of a male head (Obv.) and Parthenos (Rev.). AD 60. Leu Auction, Auction 3 (27.10.2018), lot 33; 19 mm, 7.78 g. Drachm of Chersonesus with a representation of Parthenos. Ca. 210–200 BC. Leu Auction, Web Auction 2 (3.12.2017), lot 47; 18 mm, 3.94 g.

58

CHAPTER 2

difference is that Zeus is replaced by Parthenos on the Chersonesean coin, which is likely to indicate connections with Macedon rather than with the mother city.199 Thus, another explanation for the appearance of the coin types needs to be taken into consideration. The iconographic analysis of the representations of Heracles has clearly indicated that the cult of the hero was worshipped not only in Chersonesus itself but also in the rural territory.200 It is significant that the disappearance of the coin types representing Heracles in the middle of the 2nd century BC was contemporary with the destruction of the city’s chora, the place where the cult of Heracles appeared to be particularly widespread.201 The popularity of the worship of Heracles in the rural area has been demonstrated by the finds of limestone reliefs representing the hero in a standing, reclining or feasting pose, examples of which are the reliefs discovered at Panskoye I and other sites in the north-western Crimea (the so-called distant chora), such as Chaika, Saki, the settlement at Lake Moinaki and Mezhvodnoe.202 In contrast to the city, where free-standing statues and statuettes of Heracles were also common, the limestone reliefs seem very typical of the rural territory.203 What is of most importance is the fact that the reliefs date to the same period – from the late 4th century to the early 3rd century BC, that is to the period when the chora was most prosperous.204 An important piece of evidence is the 4th century BC dedication to Heracles Soter found on a large black-glazed kantharos discovered at Panskoye I; such a dedication stresses the importance of the protective meaning of the cult of Heracles.205 It is also significant that dedications to Heracles are well attested in the chora, whereas the dedications to Parthenos (the city’s main deity) as well as other evidence of her worship are limited to Chersonesus itself and its nearby surroundings.206 At the same time, the importance of the cult of Heracles in the city is expressed in the calendar of Chersonesus which includes the month Herakleios. As mentioned above, the name of the month was in all probability brought from the mother city, and was followed by the cult of Heracles which is also visible in the personal names of the citizens who bore names such as Herakleios, Herakleidas or Herakleodoros.207 All these features of the 199 Personal communication with V. Stolba, April 2015. See, for example, SNG I 147, 149 and 152. 200 Stolba 2004a, 59–63. 201 Stolba 2004a, 60. 202 Stolba 2004a, 60–62. For the Chaika settlement, see Popova and Kovalenko 1996. 203 Stolba 2004a, 60. 204 Stolba 2004a, 61. 205 Stolba 1989; 2004a, 63; see also Popova and Kovalenko 1996, 70. 206 Stolba 2004a, 63–64. 207 Stolba 2004a, 63.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

59

cult of Heracles are likely to indicate that the appearance of the coin type representing Heracles’ head may have reflected the situation in the Chersonesean chora, whose prosperity guaranteed good fortune for the city itself, where the hero as a protector and patron was particularly worshipped, in contrast to Parthenos who appears to be merely the goddess and guardian of Chersonesus and its close surroundings.208 A similar distinction between ʻurban’ and ʻrural’ deities is visible in Olbia where the cults of Apollo (both Ietros and Delphinios), Zeus, Athena and other gods from the Olympic pantheon appear to be very prominent in the city itself but are almost absent outside the city where in turn, the cult of Achilles is well attested.209 It is worth stressing that there are no substantial differences in the material culture between the city and its chora; this indicates that the variation in the prominence of certain deities was connected with the way in which Olbia created its urban self-image centred upon specific cults (in particular the Apolline cult) rather than with potential cultural differences between the city and its rural territory.210 Also worth mentioning is the cult of Achilles Pontarches, who was worshipped in the city of Olbia and its chora during the Roman times; this is due to the fact that it does not seem to have roots in the mother city Miletus, and its emergence appears to be closely connected with the political situation in Olbia. It should be noted though that the cult of Achilles played an important role in the religious life of the Greek apoikiai in the whole North Pontic region and can be traced to the earliest periods of Greek settlement in this area. The cult had centres in the Bosporan kingdom, Chersonesus and Scythian Neapolis.211 However, the strongest tradition of the cult of Achilles was established in the north-west Black Sea region where the hero was worshipped in such places as Olbia, Berezan, the sanctuary on the Tendra Spit (Race of Achilles), the sanctuaries on the Kinburn Peninsula, Cape Stanislav (Cape Hippolaos), Cape Beikush, Tyras, and the Panhellenic sanctuary on the island of Leuke that was under Olbian protection (IOSPE I2 325; Fig. 31). The cult is attested by a number of votive inscriptions, iconography such as fragments of terracotta figurines, as well as literary sources.212 The close link between Achilles and the northern Black Sea region was recorded by Alcaeus around 600 BC, which is roughly contemporary to the early stages of Greek settlement in the Olbian territory (Alcaeus 14 Diehl = 354 Lobel-Page). The preserved fragment of 208

Stolba 2004a, 63–64. Braund 2007b, 55–56. 210 See Braund 2007b, 56. 211 Bujskikh 2007, 201. For the cult of Achilles in the North Pontic region in more detail, see especially Hupe 2006a. 212 Hupe 2006b; 2007; Bujskikh 2007; Tunkina 2007; Okhotnikov and Ostroverkhov 1993. 209

60

CHAPTER 2

Alcaeus’ poetry refers to Achilles as the lord of Scythia: Ἀχιλλεὺς ὁ γᾶς Σκυθίκας μέδεις. The existence of such an epithet of Achilles may be supported by the dedicatory graffito at the bottom of an Attic black-figured vessel found at Tyras and dated to the last quarter of the 5th century BC; the graffito reads …]ΛΕΙ ΣΚΥ[…213 If we accept the proposed reconstruction: Ἀχιλ]λεῖ Σκυ[θίας μεδέοντι (‘to Achilles who rules Scythia’), the dedication would provide an important piece of evidence that Achilles played a crucial role in familiarising the land by providing a strong mythological link with the territory. Similarly, the myth that associated the island of Leuke with Achilles’ burial place is likely to have already been established in the Archaic period.214 Thus, it is possible to assume that the Greeks who arrived to settle in this area may have already perceived Scythia as the land of Achilles.215 In the middle of the 1st century BC the city of Olbia was destroyed by the Getae, which had a great impact on the city, both politically and religiously. It is argued that the continuity of the traditions of Classical and Hellenistic Olbia was suddenly broken; this argument is particularly prevalent in Russian and Ukrainian literature, in which the history of Olbia is conventionally divided into two phases: pre-Getic that refers to the Classical and Hellenistic periods, and post-Getic that refers to the Roman times.216 One of the most significant changes is the increase of a Sarmatian component in the city’s community.217 This was caused by the fact that after the attack of the Getae, the Olbiopolitans allowed non-Greek people to settle in the city. The recent analysis of the onomastic evidence by S.R. Tokhtasev has proven that the new citizens were of Sarmatian origin and belonged to the city’s elite.218 It is important to note that at the time, two traditionally Greek cults started to play an important role in the polis: the cult of Apollo as Prostates and Achilles as Pontarches. Due to the fact that both epithets have not been attested before the Getic attack, the establishment of the cults appears to be an intentional shift towards older Greek tradition made by the ‘old’ city’s elite rather than just a reminiscence of the religious customs of the ‘great past’.219 The cults appear to be intentionally modified according to the new situation in the city and served as a unifying element amongst the old and new citizens. The epigraphic material indicates that neither Apollo Prostates nor Achilles Pontarches were worshipped by private individuals; on the contrary, their cults had an urban character and were 213 214 215 216 217 218 219

Bujskikh 2007, 209; Samoylova and Cojocaru 2002, 111. Braund 2007b, 54, n. 66. Braund 2007b, 53. See Hupe 2006b, 172. Hupe 2006b; Tokhtasev 2013. Tokhtasev 2013. Hupe 2006b, 173; see also Hupe 2007, 222.

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

61

closely connected with the main political and religious institutions and magistracies in Olbia.220 This is clearly visible in the epigraphic material, according to which all of the dedicators to Apollo Prostates were members of the Olbian collegium of strategoi, whereas a great amount of the dedicators to Achilles Pontarches were the city’s archons and priests.221 The aspects of the cult of Achilles Pontarches have been examined by Hupe who points out two functions: Achilles as a healing god, and Achilles as the patron and guardian of the political institutions in the polis.222 It is also significant that the dedications to Achilles Pontarches have been found predominantly in the western part of the city’s chora in the old places of Achilles’ worship, such as Berezan, Cape Beikush and the region of Tiligulskii Liman, which demonstrates a strong attachment to the older religious traditions.223 Aspects of a city’s identity expressed through coinage are also visible in the coins from Panticapaeum dated to the 4th century BC which represent a Panlike head (Fig. 4.3).224 It has long been argued whether the representation should be interpreted as the head of Pan or rather a satyr; however, what is of most importance is that the perception of this representation may have been closely influenced by political circumstances in the Bosporan kingdom. According to a copy of an honorific decree found in Panticapaeum, Leucon I was honoured by the Arcadians (CIRB 37): Resolved by the Arcadians, (to honour) Leucon, Son of Satyrus, of Panticapaeum […

It is significant that one of the most characteristic deities of Arcadia was Pan which may somehow have resembled the name of the city. As Braund suggests, if one assumes that the Arcadians imported grain from Panticapaeum, it seems probable that they may have reinvented the etymology of the city (which according to Stephanus, was derived from the River Panticapes) and interpreted it as ‘the gardens of Pan’ (in Doric: Pan-capoi).225 It should not be excluded that such an interpretation had an influence on the local tradition and a new understanding of the name of the city may have been included as another element in the city’s narrative. Apart from myth-making, local cults, nomima and coinage, local historiography is also a very important component of civic identity. A crucial piece of 220

Hupe 2006b, 173. Hupe 2006b, 173. For a list of the dedicators to Achilles Pontarches, see Hupe 2006b, 202–06; see also Chapter 3.4. 222 Hupe 2007. 223 Hupe 2006b, 175; 2007, 213. 224 See Gajdukevič 1971, Taf. I.10, 16–23. 225 Braund 2002, 75. 221

62

CHAPTER 2

evidence is a honorific decree from the city of Chersonesus dated to the 3rd century BC (IOSPE I2 344).226 The person honoured by the citizens with a golden wreath is a local historian, Syriskos who composed and read out his work on the epiphanies of the local main deity, Parthenos, and perhaps the deeds of the Bosporan rulers. Although the exact nature of Syriskos’ work remains unclear, this inscription is a notable example of how Black Sea apoikiai created their own narratology which consisted of both local ritual and historical traditions. Both elements appear to be closely intertwined and extremely important in the process of the creation of a city’s self-identity. The importance of the local cult, particularly the cult of heroes, and the civic cult of Parthenos will be discussed in further detail in the next chapter. The existence of a local historical tradition can also be observed in the area of the Kerch Strait. The toponyms that occur frequently along the northern Black Sea coast, such as Cimmericum, Cimmerium, Cimmerian walls, Cimmerian land, and Cimmerian Bosporus, indicate that the local Greeks seemed to believe that the land was once inhabited by the Cimmerians (see Strabo 11. 2. 5; Herodotus 4. 12). The fact that these toponyms have often been wrongly interpreted by modern scholars as evidence that the Cimmerians indeed originally inhabited these places clearly illustrates how strong the influence of Greek tradition is on modern research and today’s understanding of the past.227 As it can be seen, unlike in Old Greece, Greek identity in North Pontic contexts was not established through an opposition to the imagined Other, nor did the Greeks consider their apoikiai as closed local centres of Greek civilisation. On the contrary, local Greek identities appear to be constructed first, through a creative understanding of their environment and their neighbours, which was reflected in their own tradition; second, through the adaptation of unifying nomima obligatory to all settlers; and finally, through cultural links with the broader Panhellenic world. The next chapter will deal with three test cases in order to illustrate how the North Pontic apoikiai established a firm connection with their region and its inhabitants. CONCLUSION As it has been demonstrated in this chapter, the growing interest in the study of ethnicity in the second half of the 20th century created an impetus to reexamine the question of Greek identity. The main change that occurred at that 226

See Braund 2002, 76–77. For such Cimmerian interpretation, see, for example, Zgusta 1955, 16. For more detail, see Chapter 4.2. 227

APPROACHES TO ETHNICITY AND GREEK IDENTITY

63

time in the perception of ethnicity in Western anthropology was the fact that ethnicity was no longer treated as a historically or biologically constructed social unit, but rather as a subjective self-categorisation of a group of people that is in a constant process of ‘becoming’. Consequently, ethnicity is today regarded as a more situational and instrumental than a passive and monolithic phenomenon. Another important modern concept is Postcolonial theory that has widely been adopted by Western historians and archaeologists but almost completely neglected by Eastern scholarship. As a result of Postcolonialism, an Athenocentric approach, according to which Athens and Old Greece were perceived as the centre of Greek culture, has been rejected by Western scholars. Instead, modern approaches tend to focus on every microregion of the Greek world independently, challenging at the same time the concept of Hellenisation and the homogeneity of Greek identity. Eurocentrism has also been criticised in the study of ancient society, an example of which is M. Bernal’s controversial and provocative Black Athena that has prompted a heated debate among scholars.228 The adoption of a wider perspective on European history allows for a better understanding of the fact that the invented construct of the world has long been based on the imaginary division between the East and West. This construct is believed to be rooted in Antiquity, in the Athenian opposition to Persia which was expressed through its assembly, theatre and art during the Classical period. The 18th- and 19thcentury re-discovery (or rather re-interpretation) of Greek and Roman culture introduced this opposition into the European imaginary view of the world, which had a great impact on both contemporary politics and Classical Studies. The world of Black Sea apoikiai has rarely been the subject of studies concerning local Greek identities. Eastern approaches to ethnicity have long been influenced by the culture-history theory rooted in Marxism. As a consequence, an ethnos in Eastern anthropology is defined in terms of its long history, enduring attachment to the territory and material culture. Such an approach however does not take into consideration the existence of collective identities that were established, for example, through a common experience of migration and a new self-definition. It has been proven through anthropological study that the formation of a society’s collective identity is based on the active and creative process of remembering history and often includes an ‘invention’ of the past. All of this leads to the understanding of the environment and its inhabitants by a newly formed group of people. The establishment of a formative middle ground was 228

Bernal 1987. For the reference to the debate, see Gruen 1993, 3, n. 2.

64

CHAPTER 2

crucial for a city’s self-definition and the development of relations with local communities. In such ‘colonial’ circumstances, the polarities between the Greeks and North Pontic barbarians, which were an essential element of the Athenian self-definition, do not appear to be locally constructed. It has to be noted though that the images of various North Pontic Others (especially the Scythians), which were based on oppositions, stereotypes and different categorisations, were part of Greek tradition on a wider Panhellenic level. The next chapter will illustrate how through a local Greek tradition a connecting link was built between the North Pontic region and its Greek and nonGreek inhabitants, which was an important element of the collective cultural identity of the Black Sea apoikiai.

CHAPTER 3

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

As highlighted in the previous chapters, the study of identity and culture has undergone a rapid change as a result of Postmodern and Postcolonial theory. One of the features of self-perception that comes under close examination by both anthropologists and classicists is cultural identity – a feeling of belonging to a particular group of people (for example, an ethnic group) who have their own distinctive culture. Cultural identity is perceived as an ongoing process of formation and re-formation which depends greatly on changeable circumstances.1 In the case of Greek apoikiai, such circumstances were created through the fact of the common migration of settlers and the foundation process of a new apoikia. As mentioned above, the settlers were not part of a homogeneous expedition but were in fact a collective group of Greeks of different origin. Also, it should not be taken for granted that the majority of settlers came from the mother city. On the contrary, the accepted political, social and religious structure of an apoikia, expressed in local nomima, only indicates that the oikistes and the culturally dominant core came from a particular mother city.2 Consequently, the cultural identity of the apoikia was not determined by the prevailing amount of settlers who were of common origin, but it was shaped by a given social order applied by the citizens. Importantly, local cultural identity often expressed itself though myth which was constantly shaped and re-shaped in order to demonstrate common genealogy, the city’s origin in the heroic past or in order to establish links with other groups, which has been demonstrated in the previous chapters, and will be illustrated in further detail below. However, before turning to the three test cases from the northern Black Sea region, it is important to see how the concept of culture is understood in modern study. During the last few decades, the classic ethnographic model of culture as a static, integrated, logically consistent, resistant to change and clearly bounded unit has thoroughly been reassessed by anthropologists who have demonstrated 1 2

See S. Hall 1996. For cultural identities in the Mediterranean, see Gruen 2011a. See Malkin 2009, 390.

66

CHAPTER 3

that such a model is rather illusory.3 Instead, a more dynamic and flexible concept of culture has been developed, one that is based on receptivity and interaction with other cultures. Perhaps the most successful attempt to conceptualise culture using its numerous ambivalent meanings that appear in anthropological, sociological and historical writing has been made by W. Sewell, who argues that culture is a dialectic between both system and practice.4 According to this concept, culture is perceived as a system of symbols and meanings which is based on a certain degree of integrity, definition, and also a set of practices. However, particular stress is placed on the fact that both the symbols and meanings change over time, often in an unpredictable manner.5 Sewell claims that cultures cannot exist as clearly bounded entities due to their tendency to mutability caused by various social factors that weaken cultural boundaries; these factors include such trans-societal processes as migration and the creation of diasporas, interregional trade, and the spreading of world religions.6 At the same time, Sewell distinguishes between two general meanings of culture – the first meaning of culture, associated for example with Lévi-Strauss’s writings, is an abstract category or aspect of social life distinct from other spheres, such as economy, politics or biology; in this sense culture is always singular. The other meaning of culture, associated with R. Benedict’s works, is often used in the plural as ‘cultures’ and is understood as a concrete and bounded system of beliefs and practices which correspond with a society (for example Athenian culture), or other clearly identifiable sub-societal groups (such as Athenian citizen culture). As Sewell argues, the lack of distinction between these two meanings of culture leads to confusion and a critique which is usually directed towards the latter meaning of culture in its pluralistic sense.7 Thus, Sewell himself strongly insists on the use of the term culture in its non-pluralisable sense, thus avoiding the confusing connotations of culture as uniformly well-bounded entities.8 However, the adoption of Sewell’s concept of culture as a theoretical category which conceptualises and organises social life does not reject the existence of multiplicity and the lack of coherence and unity of culture itself. It is claimed that every culture, including Greek culture, consists of many different sub-groups or sub-cultures that constantly negotiate their shifting sense of identity through 3

Sewell 1999, 52; see also Dougherty and Kurke 2003b; J. Hall 2003. Sewell 1999, 46–52. 5 Sewell 1999, 54. 6 Sewell 1999, 55. 7 Sewell 1999, 39–40; see, for example, Benedict 1934; Lévi-Strauss 1963. 8 Sewell 1999, 57–58. For the development of the singular and plural concepts of culture, see J. Hall 2003, 33, n. 10; see also Ober 2003. 4

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

67

rituals, beliefs and practices.9 Such an aspect of culture has been described by Sewell as ‘thin cultural coherence’ which indicates that culture can successfully function requiring a minimal set of symbols that create a distinct semiotic logic whose meaning is shared and recognised by a given group of people, i.e. the users of culture. In this sense, the users of culture, who are members of a given semiotic community, understand their system of symbols; however, the system itself does not determine the way in which the users of culture construct their statements and actions, or articulate their moral and emotional interpretations of symbols.10 As a consequence, a great diversity within each culture can be observed. Furthermore, culture is constantly under negotiation and manifests itself as often contradictory practices of different sub-groups, dominant and oppositional, that confront and compete with each other creating an ongoing discourse between sameness and difference or, in other words, between coherence and contestation.11 The creation and maintenance of cultural coherence, in turn, involves such strategies as describing boundaries and norms through institutions, exclusion, and organised resistance to oppositional groups. Thus, cultural coherence is achieved not only by the semiotic system but also by power and constant struggles for power.12 Following this approach, the idea of Greek culture is perceived as an umbrella term which describes a large-scale culture zone defined by widely shared aspects such as common language, the importance of certain sacred places (for example Delphi) and the participation in rituals and mysteries, as well as an attachment to specific kinds of narrative and their genres (such as Homeric epic cycle and theatre).13 However, other diverse societal and sub-societal cultures also existed within the Greek cultural zone, such as societal cultures of each polis whose members were bounded mainly by political ties, and microcommunities whose members shared more specialised attributes such as their profession (for instance, professional musicians and artists).14 When analysing the world of North Pontic apoikiai, it is visible that local nomima provided a useful institutional tool for maintaining cultural coherence within the societal culture of a polis, whereas myth that was embedded in the Panhellenic semiotic system could successfully be used to strengthen Greek cultural identity on its wider culture-zone level. An example of such myth is one of the stories of Scythian origin mentioned by Herodotus and ascribed to the Black Sea Greeks which will be discussed below. 9

Dougherty and Kurke 2003a, 1 with n. 1. Sewell 1999, 48–52. 11 Sewell 1999, 56–57; Dougherty and Kurke 2003a, 1–2. 12 Sewell 1999, 57. 13 See Ober 2003, 239. 14 Ober 2003, 238–40. 10

68

CHAPTER 3

1. THE ORIGIN

OF THE

SCYTHIANS (HERODOTUS 4. 8–10)

In his Book 4 Herodotus refers to three stories about the origin of the Scythians – the first story is a Scythian myth, the second is a tale told by the Black Sea Greeks, and the third story appears to be a more ‘historical’ version of events.15 According to the second, Pontic tale, the Scythians were descendants of the sons of Heracles and a creature which was half woman, half serpent (Herodotus 4. 8–10). It is said that Heracles comes to Scythia from the West, driving the cattle of Geryon and following the encircling river of Ocean. When encountering the cold weather of the region Heracles falls asleep and during this time, his horses disappear. While searching for them, Heracles comes to the place called Hylaea (i.e. Woodland) where he finds a snake-legged female creature living in a cave. She admits to keeping the horses and promises to return them if Heracles agrees to have sexual intercourse with her. He accepts the offer and consequently fathers three sons: Agathyrsus, Gelonus and Scythes. Before departing the land, Heracles leaves his bow and belt as a test for his sons to find the one who will remain and rule over the region. When his sons come of age, only the youngest (Scythes) can fulfil his father’s requirement. He stays in the region and becomes the ancestor of the Scythian kings. His two brothers in turn become the eponym forefathers of the Agathyrsi and Geloni. Similar versions of the myth (which most likely derive from Herodotus’ story) are also recorded in later literature by Valerius Flaccus (6. 48–59), Diodorus Siculus (2. 43), and the Tabula Albana (IG 14. 1293A 93–96). It is significant that the common motif of all these tales is a half human half-serpent female creature, the foremother of the Scythians, who is called Echidna both by Diodorus and on the Tabula Albana.16 An important part of this story is linked to the wooded place Hylaea that seems to have played a central role in the Greek tradition of Scythian origin. Although the precise location of Hylaea is not certain, Herodotus’ account allows it to be placed in the vicinity of the rural territory of Olbia, near the Race of Achilles (Achilleos Dromos) which is the present day Tendra spit (Fig. 31.4).17 According to another tale told by Herodotus, Hylaea was the place where the Scythian philosopher Anacharsis celebrated the Greek ritual of the Mother of the Gods for which he was punished with death by his fellow Scythians (Herodotus 4. 76). The goddess that was brought by Anacharsis from Cyzicus was the Phrygian Cybele who was introduced into Greece in the 15

See Raevskii 1977; 2006, 35–105 and Bessonova 1983, 10–24 for more in-depth analyses. See Ustinova 2005, 64–65. 17 Herodotus 4. 76. For the location of Hylaea, see Dovatur et al. 1982; Neikhardt et al. 1982; Zubarev 2005; see also Dubois IGDOlbia 81, who places the limits of Hylaea on the left bank of the Dnieper estuary. 16

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

69

6th century BC.18 The cults of the Mother of the Gods and Heracles in Hylaea have been attested by the graffito discovered in 1991 at Olbia (SEG 42.710).19 The graffito was inscribed on a fragment of East Greek pottery and it dates to the late Archaic period.20 The graffito provides an important insight into the cult in Olbia and is commonly called the ‘priest’s letter’, although it is not certain who the author was.21 The letter mentions altars situated most probably in Hylaea that had been damaged for unknown reasons, not necessarily by the Scythians who did not tolerate the Greek cult, as it has been argued by some scholars.22 The altars mentioned in the graffito belonged to the Mother of the Gods, the river god Borysthenes and Heracles: (…) from there to Hylaea […] again the altars have been damaged […] of the Mother of the Gods, Borysthenes and Heracles […] (…).

Although the details remain barely legible due to the fact that a part of the text is missing, the text clearly mentions rites performed most probably in Hylaea by women.23 This in turn may indicate a possible link between Hylaea or the Hylaean Great Mother herself and Demeter whose cult has also been attested in Olbia, where her image appears on the city’s coinage.24 Also, Demeter’s hieron is mentioned by Herodotus and located south of Olbia, across the Bug estuary on Cape Hippolaos (Fig. 31.6).25 Written sources from the Classical period indicate a tendency for syncretism of the mysteries of Demeter and Cybele, and also Dionysus whose cult, as mentioned in the chapter above, has also been attested in Olbia. Although the mythologies and rites connected with these mysteries were not identical, significant analogies between them seem to result in such syncretism which is visible in 5th-century Orphism and classical works: in Pindar’s Second Dithyramb Cybele is connected with Dionysus (fr. 70b, 6–11 Snell-Maehler), whereas in Euripides’ Cretans the mysteries of Meter and Dionysus are unified (fr. 79 Austin).26 Importantly, in the passage from Euripides’ Helen Demeter is called the Mother of the Gods, which clearly indicates that the two deities may occasionally have been merged into one cult (Euripides Helen 1301).27 18

Hinge 2008, 379. Rusjaeva and Y.G. Vinogradov 1991; IGDOlbia 24. 20 For the controversy about the date, see Braund 2007b, 46, n. 31. 21 For the ‘priest’ theory, see Rusjaeva and Y.G. Vinogradov 1991. 22 See Rusjaeva and Y.G. Vinogradov 1991, 202; Rusyaeva 2007, 97. 23 Braund 2007a, 48. 24 Y.G. Vinogradov and Kryžickij 1995, 114–15. 25 Braund 2007b, 48–49; Herodotus 4. 53. Other manuscripts read Μητρός: Y.G. Vinogradov and Kryžickij 1995, 114. 26 Hinge 2008, 379. For Orphism, see M. West 1983, 140–75. For Orphism in Olbia, see Zhmud’ 1992. 27 Braund 2007b, 48. 19

70

CHAPTER 3

Another important piece of information occurs in the anonymous Periplus of the Black Sea in which the sacred grove of Hecate is mentioned and located next to the Race of Achilles on a promontory that is today called Kinburn spit (Anonymous PPE 58).28 In this instance, the identification of Hecate with the Mother of the Gods seems even more probable due to the fact that both deities were commonly melded into one cult elsewhere in the Greek world.29 The cult of the Mother of the Gods has also been attested in the city of Olbia itself.30 Moreover, the link between the cult of the Hylaean Mother of the Gods and the city has been confirmed by the discovery of a graffito with a dedication ‘to the Mother of the Gods, mistress of Hylaea’ dated to the 5th century BC (IGDOlbia 81: [Μητρὶ Θε]ῶν μεδεόσ[ηι] Ὑλαί[ης]).31 The cult of the Mother of the Gods (Cybele) is also attested in other Black Sea Milesian apoikiai, such as Apollonia, Histria, and Myrmekion, which seems to confirm that this cult was imported from the Ionian world.32 The worship of Cybele is also attested by a 3rd-century AD terracotta statuette of the goddess discovered at the necropolis of Panticapaeum (Fig. 5).33 Worth mentioning is the late Alexandrian lexicographer Hesychius who in the 5th century AD quoted ‘the Cimmerian goddess’ as a name for the Mother of the Gods. The quotation most probably comes from a classical tragedy.34 This passage was used by Gaidukevich to support his theory that the temple of Cybele in Panticapaeum was founded on a pre-Greek cultic place of a local goddess; however, the archaeological material does not support this view.35 Given the Greek belief that Scythia was once inhabited by the Cimmerians, the epithet of the goddess may well indicate the geographical location of her cult rather than its possible non-Greek aspect. The creature encountered by Heracles in the Herodotean tale has often been interpreted as a Scythian snake-legged goddess, whose representations are known from many Graeco-Scythian artefacts (horse harnesses, ornaments, plaques) which date mainly from the 4th century BC (Figs. 6 and 7).36 In the Roman period the image of the goddess appears in the plaster and wooden 28 The grove of Hecate is also mentioned by Ptolemy (Geogr. 3. 5. 2). For the problems of location, see Braund 2007b, 48–49 with n. 48. 29 See LIMC s.v. on the Mother of the Gods and Hecate; Braund 2007b, 48 with n. 46. 30 See, for example, the dedication SEG 44.68: Ἄρτεμις Ὑπάσιος Μητ[ρὶ Θεῶν ἀνέθηκεν], ca. 550 BC. For the cult of Cybele in Olbia, see Bøgh 2009; see also Braund 2007b, 49–50, n. 50. 31 See also Braund 2007b, 52; Ivantchik 2001c, 326. 32 Bøgh 2009, 40–47, 59–64; see also IGDOlbia 81; Braund 2007b, 48, n. 40. 33 For the cult of Cybele in Panticapaeum, see Ustinova 1999, 63–64. 34 Hinge 2008, 377; Hesychius s.v. Kimmeris thea = Trag. Adesp. fr. 221 Nauck. 35 Gajdukevič 1971, 175; Ustinova 1999, 63–64. 36 Ivantchik 2001c, 334 with n. 26; Ustinova 2005, 66–69.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

Fig. 5. Statuette of Cybele. Necropolis of Panticapaeum. 3rd century AD. Terracotta. Inv. no. P.1910-145. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

71

72

CHAPTER 3

Fig. 6. Plaque in the shape of a winged female half-figure. Great Bliznitsa Kurgan. 4th century BC. Gold. Inv. no. BB.-49. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

Fig. 7. Serpent-legged goddess. Kul-Oba Kurgan. Mid-4th century BC. Gold. Inv. no. KO-70. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

73

Fig. 8. Sarcophagus appliqué: serpent legged goddess. Necropolis of Panticapaeum. Second half of the 1st–first half of the 2nd century AD. Plaster. Inv. no. P.1919-13. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

decoration of sarcophagi found in the necropolis of Panticapaeum (Fig. 8). It has been argued that the shape of the snake-legged goddess is combined with chthonic and vegetal symbolism that demonstrated the eternal cycle of life and death, and is thought to represent three main principles: vegetation, human motherhood, and animal life. Her connotations with the Underworld are associated with the figures of the Scythian goddess that often appeared in burials as plaques or, as mentioned above, a motif on sarcophagi. It has been indicated that this can perhaps be associated with the important role of the goddess in ancestor cult.37 A different point of view has been suggested by A. Buiskikh who argues that the images of the snake-legged goddess are in fact an Anatolian decorative influence known in other parts of the Greek world (for example in Athens and Italy), and they represent a female creature with plant tendril endings rather than snakes.38 37

Ustinova 2005, 65 and 68; Jijina 2007, 201. Buiskikh 2007; see also Ustinova 1999, 99–107; 2005, 70–74 and 75–76 where she questions the Near Eastern origin of this motif for chronological reasons. 38

74

CHAPTER 3

However, the Anatolian provenance of this iconographic motif does not have to indicate that the motif bore the same symbolic meaning. On the contrary, the so-called wandering motifs tend to change their meanings depending on the relevant local cultural background. In the northern Black Sea environment, the motif of a female snake or tendril-legged creature (in its many variations, as is visible on the artefacts) may have been widespread due to the particular significance it held in both Scythian and Greek traditions: the images occur not only in Graeco-Scythian art but also as an architectonic decorative motif in Chersonesus known also as the Rankenfrau.39 As pointed out by Y. Ustinova, there are a few iconographic examples of the ‘goddess’, yet only one of them is likely to represent a snake-legged creature from the genealogical myth.40 However, it should not be taken for granted that the depictions of a tendril-legged creature on Bosporan sarcophagi that became a predominant motif in the first centuries AD were semantically equivalent to the snake-legged goddess, as Ustinova suggests.41 Similar depictions of the ‘goddess’ also occur in architectural decorations as well as in Scythian art in Scythian Neapolis, namely on wall paintings dated to the 2nd–3rd centuries AD. Iconographical analogies can also be found in the Asiatic part of the Bosporus in the Sindo-Maeotian area.42 This has led to a common interpretation of the snake-legged goddess as the supreme female deity, the Great Goddess worshipped not only by the Scythians but also by the Sindo-Maeotians and the Taurians about whom we have no evidence.43 It is important to point out that the idea of the Iranian Great Goddess associated with the Herodotean snake-legged creature was first put forward by Rostovtzeff and since then has been widely accepted by Soviet and Russian scholars who have transferred this concept to the West through academic literature.44 However, as Buiskikh points out, there is no firm evidence that a shared cult of such a deity existed among the local non-Greek population.45 Furthermore, there is no indication to believe that similar aspects of Greek and Scythian female deities led to their syncretism, as suggested by I.Y. Shaub.46 It would be more cautious to interpret the snake and tendril-legged images independently in terms of their iconographical type, the cultural milieu in which they are found, and chronology. 39

See Buiskikh 2007, 164, fig. 2. Ustinova 1999, 93–99; 2005, 66. 41 Ustinova 1999, 95. 42 Ustinova 1999, 95–96. 43 Rostovtzeff 1922, 34. See also Ustinova 1999; Shaub 1999, who interprets the Herodotean snake-legged creature as the Scythian Great Goddess. 44 Buiskikh 2007, 168, 171; Rostovtzeff 1918, 73–74. 45 Buiskikh 2007, 177. 46 Shaub 2007, 122. 40

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

75

If the representation of the Herodotean snake-woman was indeed based on the image of a local deity of a chthonic character, it seems probable that the similar chthonic aspects may have led to the imaginary association of the mythical foremother of the Scythians with the Greek Mother of the Gods or/and Hecate and Demeter.47 Such association would explain the location of the snake-woman in Hylaea, the sacred place of the Greeks where both the Mother of the Gods and Heracles were most likely worshipped by the Olbiopolitans. With this in mind, it seems possible that similar chthonic symbolism of the goddesses may have played an important role in the creation of a mythical Greek-Scythian genealogy. Apart from the mysterious snake-legged creature, the presence of Heracles in Herodotean tale is also significant and is likely to relate to specific ‘nonGreek’ aspects of the hero. The ambivalent nature of Heracles has been pointed out by Hartog who explains this as the reason why the hero could in fact be considered the father of the Scythians. Heracles’ representation in Greek tradition was rather ambiguous: he appears at times to be a defender of humanity, whereas in Greek comedies he is represented as an ‘uncivilised’ hero, glutton and libertine.48 Furthermore, he was a hero who constantly travelled and explored new lands and marked the limits of the world. As a result, he was considered to be the founder of many cities, such as Heraclea Pontica and Callatis on the Black Sea shores, Hecatompylae in Libya, Saguntum in Spain and Croton in Italy. Thus, he could be perceived as a ‘civilised’ hero who had a ‘nomadic’ nature.49 However, it seems that this was not the only ambiguity which made it possible for the Black Sea Greeks to consider Heracles as the father of non-Greek people. It is significant that Heracles was also famous as a skilled archer.50 At the same time, the masterly use of a bow was an important element of the Greek imaginary view of the Scythians which was often used in Greek (particularly Athenian) art to represent archers in general, regardless of their ethnicity; this was certainly connected with the fact that a Scythian police force functioned in Athens. They were equipped with a bow and a quiver, and thus they were often just called archers.51 Although it is not certain if all of them were indeed ethnically Scythian, it is important to note that the bow and arrows used by the archers had a symbolic role; this kind of weapon was used as a marker of the social position of the archers and their potential for 47 See Hinge 2008, 377, who argues that the Herodotean Hylaean female creature is a variant of the Great Mother. 48 Hartog 1988, 26 with n. 52. 49 Hartog 1988, 26. 50 See, for example, Homer Odyssey 8. 219–225; Braund 2010; 2011. 51 See Bäbler 1998; 2005a; Ivantchik 2005c; see also Chapter 4.3.

76

CHAPTER 3

violence.52 Worth noting is another, less familiar story about Heracles preserved in the scholia and ascribed to Herodorus of Heraclea Pontica (who is an older source) and Callimachus.53 According to the scholia, it was not Heracles who introduced the bow to the Scythians, but he was himself taught how to use a Scythian bow and arrow by a certain Scythian Teutaros.54 All those characteristic features of Heracles as a Greek hero who explores the margins of the oikoumene and spends his life among non-Greeks, and is known for his skill as an archer, seem to provide a useful ideological framework that was used by the North Pontic Greeks to create the story about Scythian origin. Due to the fact that myth and mythological geography was extremely flexible in the Greek world, they could be easily transformed and used as a tool in creating a new historical background. This myth about the origin of the Scythians is a good example of how mythological stories enable the creation of firm links between traditions of the Greeks and non-Greeks and the territory that they inhabited. In order to create a new common historical tradition that had its roots in the Black Sea region, Greek and non-Greek societies needed to find a place to communicate with each other through significant cultural symbols such as hero (borrowed from the bigger Panhellenic mythological cycle) and goddess (borrowed from the nomadic ‘pantheon’). This myth helped both with the placing of the Scythian tribes and their origin in a larger historical tradition, and by defining Greek self-identity by understanding and familiarising the local environment – the peoples and the territory of the North Pontic area. A similar process of creating a common point in the historical narrative is visible again in the story about the origin of the Sauromatians (Herodotus 4. 110–116). According to Herodotus, they were descendants of the Amazons and Scythians. This link between Greek and non-Greek tradition was based upon a Panhellenic motif of the Amazons (female warriors), and possibly upon the cultural similarities between the Scythians and Sauromatians (see Chapter 4.5). With that in mind, it seems unnecessary to interpret Herodotean tale as just an interpretatio graeca of an ancient Iranian legend, in which Heracles is a Greek substitute for the Scythian Targitaos (see Herodotus 4. 5. 1), as it has been suggested by some scholars.55 Although certain elements of Scythian tradition may indeed intentionally occur in the tale (such as the presence of the snake-legged creature), the idea behind the creation of such a narrative by the Black Sea Greeks is likely to reflect the need for a conceptual understanding 52

Braund 2010, 382. Schol. Theoc. xiii 56; Herodorus FGrHist 31 F 17; Callimachus fr. 365. 54 For a more detailed analysis of the story, see Braund 2010; 2011, 18. 55 Raevskii 1977; Ivantchik 1999a; 2001b; 2001c; Ustinova 1999, 90; Shaub 2007, 61–68, with further literature. 53

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

77

of the area that was inhabited by both the Greeks and Scythians rather than the need to ‘Hellenise’ a foreign tale.56 Another element of this narrative can also be found in Herodotus who mentions a giant footprint left in a rock by Heracles near the Tyras river (Herodotus 4. 82). Such a tradition clearly indicates that Heracles was perceived as the first who bestrode the region that was previously uninhabited.57 The presence of the Greek hero could both legitimise Greek settlement in this region and create a link with the territory, which is an important element of local identity. The reason why the Black Sea Greeks created such a genealogy of their nonGreek neighbours is unlikely to be caused by the Hellenocentric nature of Greek anthropology which allows the Greeks to place a Greek hero at the origin of the Scythian tribe, as Hartog assumes.58 On the contrary, the presence of Greek heroes in the mythical imaginary past leads to a shift in the boundaries between the Greek and barbarian worlds by crossing cultural lines or establishing a mediating middle ground between them through participation in a universal mythic framework.59 Significantly, ‘mixed’ peoples had already been mentioned by Herodotus. They were described either as Greek Scythians, such as the Callipidae (Herodotus 4. 17. 1: eontes Hellenes Skuthai), or ‘barbarised’ Greeks, such as the Geloni (Herodotus 4. 108): ‘For the Geloni are by their origin Greeks, who left their trading ports to settle among the Budini; and they speak a language half Greek and half Scythian.’60 This is likely to demonstrate that such a mixed genealogical tradition reflected the multicultural character of Black Sea society. In that sense, Herodotus’ story may have had multiple meanings and interpretations depending on whether the story was told among families that maintained a more Greek or Scythian identity. 2. THE CULT OF LOCAL HEROES As argued above, the rise of a new apoikia created a need to articulate identity in more collective terms.61 Such articulation could be expressed through the incorporation of the territory into a mythical framework, which was reflected 56 For a similar point of view, see Rusyaeva 2005, 33–36, who points out different aspects of Targitaos and Heracles. 57 Braund 2010, 383; Rusyaeva 2005, 37–38. 58 Hartog 1988, 27. 59 See especially Gehrke 2005 and Malkin 2005, who explains the importance of the blending of Greek Heracles and the Phoenician god Melqart in Sicily. 60 Herodotus. With an English Translation by A.D. Godley, 4 vols. (Cambridge, MA 1920). 61 See Malkin 2005, 240.

78

CHAPTER 3

in the cult of the founder, cult of heroes and Panhellenic deities, or in a mythical genealogy of the elite, as in the case of the Bosporan rulers. Also of particular importance are cults of local heroes, due mainly to the fact that they emerged in a new, ‘colonial’ environment and thus, they directly reflect the local identities that were founded on the political and religious life of the city itself. Apart from Achilles with the local epithet Pontarches, there were also other local heroes, of which only a few are known by name, two examples being Heuresibios and Sosias. The name of Heuresibios is attested on the inscription on a statue base of Zeus Soter that has been found in Olbia and dates to the 4th century BC (I.Olbia 71 = IGDOlbia 11). Although the text of the inscription is not fully preserved, it is clear that it represents the names of priests that belonged to a religious association that was centred upon the cult of a local hero named Heuresibios. According to the reconstruction suggested by V.F. Stolba, the inscription not only provides evidence for the cult of Heuresibios, but it also explains the striking popularity of the name Heuresibios in Olbia. The name was remarkably popular from the late 6th century BC until the 2nd century AD and, as Stolba states, 26 people from the city bore this name, whereas it is virtually absent in other Greek cities of the Black Sea region.62 The name occurs only twice outside the North Pontic region – in Apollonia on the western Black Sea shore (4th century BC) and in Aphareos on Euboea (4th–3rd century BC). The prosopographical analysis carried out by Stolba has indicated that the priests associated with this cult appear to be close relatives and members of at least two families – the family of Leokrates and the family of Leoprepes.63 Worth re-examining is the investigation of the historical background of the emergence of the Heuresibios cult that was carried out by Y.G. Vinogradov, due to the fact that his interpretation of the epigraphic evidence may lead to some confusion.64 In the second verse of the list of priests mentioned above, Vinogradov (following A.A. Beletskii) suggested the reading ἱερεῖς Εὑρησιβιάδαι instead of Εὑρησιβίου, which would not mean the priests of Heuresibios but the priests from the family of Heuresibios.65 According to Vinogradov, this Heuresibios should be interpreted as Heuresibios, son of Syriskos whose existence Vinogradov himself supported by using two allegedly contemporary dedications to Zeus Eleutherios as well as a further reconstruction of another piece of epigraphic evidence, namely he restored a poorly preserved epigram 62 63 64 65

Stolba 2013, 296, n. 11, 298. Stolba 2013, 299, fig. 3 with stemmata of the families. Y.G. Vinogradov 1989. For a more detailed study of this issue, see Porucznik 2018. Y.G. Vinogradov 1989, 147.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

79

dated to the early 4th century BC, in which the overthrow of tyranny was likely to be mentioned (SEG 31.702).66 The first dedication (IGDOlbia 8 = SEG 42.714) has been interpreted as a dedication of a statue of Heuresibios to Zeus Eleutherios, made by his son. This Heuresibios was identified as the one mentioned in IOlbia 71. The name of the son in the lacuna has been reconstructed as Leokrates, according to the list of priests from IOlbia 71, even though other reconstructions are possible as well. As a result, it has been argued that the inscription dates to the early 4th century BC.67 The second dedication to Zeus Eleutherios, written in the elegiac couplet, has been partly quoted on several occasions.68 The inscription is briefly mentioned by Beletskii; however, only a Russian translation (inaccurate, according to Vinogradov) is provided by him.69 Two alternative Russian translations provided by V.P. Yailenko in 1990 and A.S. Rusyaeva and M.V. Rusyaeva in 2004 do not include the original Greek text either.70 Notably, only the second passage of the dedication has been included by Dubois in his collection (IGDOlbia 9). Vinogradov mentioned that the inscription would be prepared for a later publication; however, since then they remain unpublished.71 The inscription is also briefly mentioned by A.S. Rusyaeva and V.V. Krapivina who suggest a later date – the end of the first quarter of the 4th century BC or even later.72 As a result, the name ‘Heuresibios son of Syriskos’ is known only from Vinogradov’s reference, but the name itself does not appear in the text of the dedications quoted by the author. Based on epigraphic and, to a lesser extent, numismatic evidence, Vinogradov argued that the political activity of Heuresibios son of Syriskos was connected to the overthrow of tyranny in Olbia, which was allegedly mentioned in the above-mentioned poorly preserved epigram dated to the early fourth century BC (SEG 31.702). According to Vinogradov’s interpretation of the epigram, Heuresibios son of Syriskos liberated Olbia from tyranny, which allowed him and his relatives to establish a prominent position in the city which resulted in the cult of Heuresibios as a local hero.73 Dubois has followed this assumption arguing that Heuresibios may have enjoyed the status of a local hero shortly after 66

Y.G. Vinogradov 1981a, 67–74. Y.G. Vinogradov 1989, 147; 1997c, 212. 68 Y.G. Vinogradov 1989, 136: Ἐλευθερίωι Ζηνὶ θεῶμ βασιλεῖ and Ζηνὸς Ἐλεοθερίο; and 138, n. 15: αὔξωμ μὲν πάτριον (κάτριον in Vinogradov’s book is certainly a misprint) δάπεδον τιμῶν τε δικαίως Ζηνὸς Ἐλεοθερίο πάγκρατος εὐδόκιμον. See also Y.G. Vinogradov 1981b, 63; 1981c, 27; 1997c, 212. 69 Beletskii 1975. 70 Yailenko 1990; Rusyaeva and Rusyaeva 2004. 71 Y.G. Vinogradov 1989, 136, n. 3. 72 Rusyaeva and Krapivina 1992, 24. 73 Y.G. Vinogradov 1981a; 1981b, 67–74; 1981c; 1989, 109–26, 135–50; 1997c, 212–23. 67

80

CHAPTER 3

his death, such as the famous tyrannicides Harmodius and Aristogeiton in Athens.74 However, A. Lebedev has convincingly demonstrated that Vinogradov’s reconstruction of the epigram cannot be accepted due to linguistic issues.75 Lebedev also compares the inscription with a parallel fragment of an epigram found in Chios and argues that the Olbian epigram was not a local poem, but a copy of a 5th century BC Athenian epitaph honouring the tyrannicide of legendary Harmodius and Aristogeiton whose statues were situated in the Agora.76 Lebedev supposes that the epigram may derive either from the Olbian gymnasium or from the Big Stoa located between the Olbian Agora and the Eastern Temenos; the Stoa was most probably dedicated to Zeus Eleutherios replicating the dedication of the Stoa of Zeus Eleutherios on the Athenian Agora. Its construction was strongly influenced both politically and culturally by Athens and analogously, it may have been decorated with monuments glorifying democracy, among which a monument of Harmodius and Aristogeiton may have been placed.77 Given the fact that Olbia was a member of the First Delian League (most probably by 425 BC), the cult of the legendary tyrannicides may have existed as part of the Athenian religious-political propaganda that was also recorded in other cities of Athenian symmachoi.78 With that in mind, it does not appear convincing that Heuresibios became a local hero due to the liberation of the city from tyranny. Certainly, there might have been a number of reasons for him becoming a hero among the local society, however, the scarcity of evidence does not allow for further investigation. It is worth mentioning that Dubois has followed Vinogradov’s interpretations, since he was probably not aware of Lebedev’s work which was published in the same year as his collection of Olbian inscriptions. As a consequence, according to LGPN three inscriptions are considered to refer to Heuresibios son of Syriskos, although none of them mentions the patronymic Syriskos and in fact, only one of them mentions the name Heuresibios (IGDOlbia 8; 9; 10). It has to be noted that although Vinogradov’s reconstruction of the epigram seems uncertain, an episode of tyranny may indeed have taken place in the city of Olbia, as it has been suggested by the local numismatic evidence as well as the occurrence of the cult of Zeus Eleutherios in the city.79 It is significant that in the second half of the 5th century BC the coins of Niconium, Olbia, IGDOlbia 12: Ἑρμέω, Εὑρησιβίο. Lebedev 1996, 263. 76 Lebedev 1996, 267; Taylor 1991, 13. For the Chian epigram, see Trypanis 1960, no. 4. 77 Lebedev 1996, 266–67. 78 Lebedev 1996, 266, n. 21 for further literature; on the cult of Zeus Eleutherios and its importance for anti-tyrannical propaganda, see Raaflaub 2000; 2004. 79 Y.G. Vinogradov 1981b, 53–56; 1997c; Stolba 2009, 29; 2013, 299. 74 75

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

81

Panticapaeum, Nymphaeum and Theodosia do not bear either ethnic names or the name of the city. As Stolba suggests, the cities may have been governed by tyrants who most probably followed the Achaemenid tradition and struck the coins in their own names.80 Such a probability is strengthened by the fact that from the late 5th/early 4th century BC onwards the ethnic names and the names of the city (occasionally with the names or monograms of the city’s officials) appear regularly on the coins, which may indicate that the rule of the local tyrants was disturbed by the Pontic expedition of Pericles (ca. 437 BC), as in the case of Sinope where the removal of the tyrant Timesileos by Pericles’ soldiers under the leadership of Lamachus is attested by Plutarch.81 Another example of a local hero worshipped in Olbia is Sosias, who is mentioned in the Protogenes inscription.82 However, this inscription is the only source of information regarding this cult. The name Sosias is exceptionally rare for the whole of the Black Sea region and appears only a few times in North Pontic onomastics, but not earlier than the Roman period.83 An important piece of evidence is the grave inscription of a certain Athenian Sosias, son of Kephalos, who died in Olbia in the late 5th or early 4th century BC.84 However, it is not certain if this Sosias had any connection with the hero who was worshipped in the city.85 There is also a certain Chersonasos who appears once in the epigraphic evidence of Chersonesus, in the so-called Diophantos decree, in which the altar of Chersonasos located next to that of Parthenos is mentioned.86 The interpretation of Chersonasos, especially in connection with the local coinage, has a very long tradition; however, the character of this cult remains uncertain.87 The coins that are traditionally interpreted as bearing the image of Chersonasos were struck from the end of the 1st century BC/beginning of the 1st century AD to the 3rd century AD (see Fig. 4.5). The first scholar who associated the image of a male head with a serpent represented on Chersonesean coinage (which was previously interpreted as the head of Apollo) with Chersonasos was A. Oreshnikov.88 He claimed that a serpent was often associated 80

Stolba 2009, 29. Plutarch Per. 20; Stolba 2009, 29. For the Pontic expedition of Pericles, see Braund 2005c; 2005d. 82 IOSPE I2 32 B 4; see Stolba 2013, 298, n. 18. 83 Panticapaeum: CIRB 89, 8 (2nd century AD); SEG 46.958, 4 (2nd century AD); CIRB 145 (1st/2nd century AD); Gorgippia: CIRB 1179, 22 (2nd/3rd century AD). 84 IOSPE I2 232; Σωσίας Κεφάλο Ἀθηναῖος. 85 See Stolba 2013, 298, n. 18. 86 IOSPE I2 352, 52: παρὰ τὸν τᾶς Παρθένου βωμὸν καὶ τὸν τᾶς Χερσονάσου. 87 For a more detailed analysis of this issue, see Porucznik 2017. 88 See Anokhin 1980, pl. XVI.248. 81

82

CHAPTER 3

with heroes or demigods and, following this assumption, he interpreted Chersonasos as the mythical founder of the city.89 Such an explanation would certainly correspond with two other North Pontic traditions that claim the cities of Phanagoria and Hermonassa were named after their eponymous founders.90 Oreshnikov’s interpretation was then challenged by Minns who rightly pointed out the female nature of Chersonasos. According to him, the altar mentioned in the Diophantos decree did not belong to a hero, but to a nymph called Chersonasos; Minns supported his assumption with a passage from Pomponius Mela’s De Chorographia, in which the cave of nymphs is mentioned in the city of Chersonesus.91 In a later article Oreshnikov, taking into consideration Minns’s opinion, came to the conclusion that the male head appearing on the coins represented a certain local hero whose name remains unknown to us.92 He also turned his attention to other coins which displayed the image of a head, a lyre and the inscription ΧΕΡΣ on the obverse, and Parthenos holding a bow and a spear, and the inscription ΧΕΡ on the reverse.93 According to Oreshnikov, the inscription ΧΕΡ refers to the name of the city, whereas ΧΕΡΣ refers to a female deity whose head is represented on the coin and should be associated with Chersonasos from the Diophantos decree.94 He also noticed that apart from the female head with a lyre, there is another representation of a head and a lyre with the inscription ΕΙΡΗΝΗC ΣΕΒΑΣΤHC which should be interpreted rather as a male head, possibly that of Apollo, as was also argued previously by Rostovtzeff.95 As for the nature of the cult of Chersonasos, Oreshnikov rejected Minns’s theory of a nymph and suggested that the deity was the personification of the whole community of Chersonesus.96 As Oreshnikov rightly pointed out, Chersonasos could not be the city goddess as Tyche, since this function was already performed by Parthenos who is represented as Tyche with a corona muralis on the city’s coinage (Fig. 4.4).97 The interpretation of Chersonasos as a personification of the city (or citizens, as Oreshnikov preferred to perceive it) would explain first, the central location of her altar next to that of the main 89 90

Oreshnikov 1912, 7; see also Rusyaeva 2005, 484. For more detail, see Diatroptov 2001; Podossinov 2006, 140. For Myrmekion, see Zhebelev

1941. 91 Minns 1913, 544; Pomponius Mela 2. 3: Oppidum adiacet Cherronesus, a Diana, si creditur, conditum, et nymphaeo specu quod in arce eius nymphis sacratum est maxime inlustre. 92 Oreshnikov 1918, 145. 93 See Anokhin 1980, pl. XVII.250. 94 Oreshnikov 1918, 148. 95 Oreshnikov 1918, 149; Anokhin 1980, pls. XV.226, 229, 230, XVI.245. 96 Oreshnikov 1922. 97 Oreshnikov 1922, 159.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

83

city goddess Parthenos, and second, the female nature of Chersonasos; as a rule, each personification acquires the gender of the entity which is personified and thus, the poleis are usually feminine.98 It is important also to note that Chersonasos is a Doric form, which demonstrates that the citizens consequently maintained their Doric identity. However, the tradition of interpreting images on Chersonesean coins does not differentiate between the above-mentioned types of head images. As a consequence, the male head with a serpent, two types of heads with a lyre, and the male head with a serpent and a star are usually described as the representation of the divinity Chersonasos.99 Furthermore, the interpretation of certain attributes that are illustrated on the coins, especially the serpent, does not seem certain due to the poor quality of the images. The above-mentioned local cults clearly demonstrate that North Pontic apokiai maintained their cultural identity not only through the link with the broader Panhellenic cultural framework, but they also created their own narrative that was based on local historical and religious traditions.100 Of particular importance is the city of Chersonesus due to the exceptional role of this city’s deity Parthenos whose origin can be traced to a local non-Greek cult. Worth also investigating is the relationship between the cult of Parthenos and the Panhellenic myth associated with the epic cycle of the Trojan War, a myth that has developed to become one of the most recognisable themes in ancient literature and became an important part of the imaginary view of the Black Sea region in Greek tradition. Both issues will be discussed in the following section. 3. IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS AND THE CULT OF PARTHENOS The oldest reference to Iphigenia, who was sent to Tauris by Artemis, occurs in the Cypria, which is dated to approximately 500 BC. This poem of the Epic Cycle has been preserved only in the summary of Proclus, an author of unknown date and origin. Proclus gives us a short summary of the events at Aulis: Iphigenia was sent to the Greek camp under the pretext of marriage to Achilles; she was to be sacrificed to appease the angry goddess Artemis, but Artemis substituted her for a deer and then transported her to the land of the Taurians 98 Smith 2012, 443. For the general prevalence of feminine personifications in Greek tradition, see Stafford 1998. 99 See, for example, Anokhin 1980, pls. XIV–XIX. For the differentiation between the images and possible interpretations, see Rusyaeva 2005, 258, 276, 482. 100 For similar conclusions, see Diatroptov 2001.

84

CHAPTER 3

and made her immortal (Epicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, ed. G. Kinkel, p. 19 = M. Davies p. 32):101 When the expedition was assembled at Aulis, for the second time, Agamemmnon killed a deer while hunting and claimed to surpass Artemis herself. The goddess in her wrath stopped them from sailing by sending wild weather. When Calchas told them of the goddess’s wrath and said they should sacrifice Iphigeneia to Artemis, they sent for her as if she was to marry Achilles, and set about to sacrifice her. But Artemis snatches her away and conveys her to the Tauroi and makes her immortal, setting a deer by the altar in place of the girl.102

An element of this myth is found in the Herodotean Scythian logos. In passage 4. 103 Herodotus gives us a short description of the Taurians and their customs. From an archaeological point of view, the Taurians were a local tribal community that inhabited the Crimean mountains and foothills, and they are generally associated with the Kizil-Koba culture.103 According to Herodotus, the Taurians worshipped the Maiden Goddess (which Herodotus refers to as just Parthenos), and they sacrificed all shipwrecked sailors to her. What is striking though is that according to Herodotus, the Taurians themselves claimed that the goddess called Parthenos was Agamemnon’s daughter, Iphigenia. It is significant that the goddess worshipped in Chersonesus was also called Parthenos.104 These literary traditions have led to some confusion and a tendency among scholars to equate the deity with Artemis, although the origin of this cult should be found in local tradition.105 It is difficult to understand the reasons why Iphigenia was associated with the land of the Taurians. It has been assumed that Iphigenia was initially a goddess that was worshiped in Asia Minor, and then subordinated to or identified with Artemis; it is claimed that the cult of Iphigenia as a goddess developed in the second half of the 7th and continued throughout the 6th century BC.106 The association of Iphigenia with Artemis might be attributed to an old aspect of Artemis as the Mistress of Animals, as it is assumed by some scholars (potnia theron).107 Later, when Artemis became Apollo’s sister, many of her characteristics as the Mistress of Animals persisted in her worship. As an example, in 101 For the location of Tauris in the Crimea, see E. Hall 1987; Oller Guzmán 2008, 227. The same events occur in Apollodorus’ Epitome, 3. 22. 102 Transl. M. West 2003, 74–75. 103 See Leskov 1965; 1980; Kolotukhin 1996; Bondarenko 2010; Kravchenko 2010b. For more detail, see Chapter 4.4. 104 For a detailed analysis of the cult of Parthenos, see Rusyaeva and Rusyaeva 1999. 105 For an interpretation of Parthenos as the equivalent/epithet of Artemis, see, for example, Minns 1913, 544; Rusyaeva and Rusyaeva 1999; Bravo 2000, 99–100; Rusyaeva 1992; 2005, 262–86; R. Popova 2011. 106 Kjellberg 1916, 2589; Lloyd-Jones 1983, 95. 107 Lloyd-Jones 1983, 90–91; attested by Homer Iliad 21. 470: potnia theron Artemis agrotere.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

85

the cult of Artemis Orthia at Sparta there was the use of masks that represented different kinds of animals. Artemis was also connected with girls and also young men, which is visible in the cult of Artemis Triklaria which comprised a cult legend of the sacrifice of a young man and a young woman, whereas in Sparta the ephebes were flogged at the altar of Artemis Orthia.108 It seems probable that Iphigenia as an eastern goddess was associated with Artemis, perhaps due to the similar features of their cult(s), and later she became a daughter of Agamemnon. This is first attested in the Cypria and the Catalogue of Women attributed to Hesiod (fr. 23 a-b Merkelbach-West), and later by Stesichorus (Poetae Melici Graeci, 2115/38), according to whom Iphigenia was transformed by Artemis into Hekate. The motif of Iphigenia in Tauris became commonly known due to Euripides’ tragedy, Iphigenia in Tauris, which was first performed in 414 BC, not long after the publication of Herodotus’ work. According to the Euripidean play, Iphigenia was a priestess of Artemis to whom the Taurians sacrificed Greek sailors. The motif of Iphigenia appeared again in another Euripidean tragedy, Iphigenia at Aulis (ca. 405), in which the plot is based upon the events in the Greek camp at Aulis. What is of most importance is the fact that due to these plays Euripides popularised not only the myth of Iphigenia, but also the story of the savage customs of the Taurians. These customs became a part of a long-written tradition, which was still being attested during the Roman period by authors such as Tacitus (Tacitus Ann. 12. 17).109 It is important that several elements that are known from Herodotus’ account appear in the tragedy, especially the custom of sacrificing shipwrecked sailors and the impalement of victims on stakes. Also, when referring to Artemis, Euripides uses the epithet Parthenos, which is the name of the local Taurian goddess mentioned by Herodotus. When examining the cult of Parthenos in Chersonesus, one of the best sources of information about the goddess (and virtually the only source for her iconography) is the local coinage; the image of Parthenos was struck throughout the entire history of the city (see Fig. 4.4–6).110 It is also important to note that the representation of the goddess changed over time, developing from the image of a young maiden into an Artemis-like goddess with attributes such as a quiver and a bow. The development of the iconography of Parthenos also seems to reflect the evolution of her cult and the way in which she was perceived by the citizens; it is visible that the originally local Taurian cult started 108 109 110

Lloyd-Jones 1983, 91. See Chapter 4.4. See Stolba 1996b; 2004a.

86

CHAPTER 3

to become more syncretic, combining both Greek and non-Greek elements.111 Apart from the city’s coinage, also worth mentioning is the discovery of a depiction of Parthenos as Promachos, which was found on a piece of limestone in the farmhouse on plot 341 located in the so-called home chora of Chersonesus on the Heraclean Peninsula.112 Another source of information about how Parthenos was perceived by the citizens can be found in various inscriptions. In the oath of the citizens of Chersonesus dated to the late 4th/early 3rd century BC, Parthenos appears in the place where the patron of the city should be situated, since she is invoked after Zeus, Earth and the Sun, deities which did not have specific cult status in the city.113 In another inscription dated to ca. 250–200 BC Parthenos is mentioned as a saviour: she miraculously rescued the citizens who were taking part in the religious procession outside the city walls and were attacked by the ‘neighbouring barbarians’, who should most likely be interpreted as the Taurians (IOSPE I2 343). Worth noting is the inscription which mentions the local historian Syriskos son of Heracleidas who was honoured by the citizens with a decree and a wreath of gold for composing his work on the epiphanies of Parthenos.114 Notably, as Stolba has pointed out, Chersonesus temporarily issued bronze and silver coins during this time that depicted Parthenos wearing a wreath, which may indicate that Syriskos dedicated his golden wreath to Parthenos. It is also visible in other poleis that such alternations of coin types usually indicate important events in a city’s history (such as a city’s victories or rescues, or large donations to the temple), which could in this case be related to the epiphany of the goddess.115 Another important piece of information about the nature of the cult of Parthenos is provided by the Diophantos decree, in which the goddess is represented as the guardian of the citizens.116 It is significant that Parthenos is never called Artemis by the citizens of Chersonesus. This may indicate that for the citizens, Parthenos was never equivalent to Artemis but instead, they perceived her as an independent goddess. However, it is visible that there are elements in Parthenos’ iconography that resemble certain common representations of Artemis. Those that represent Parthenos as a huntress may have related to a similar aspect of Artemis as a huntress. However, it is not certain whether the iconography reflects any similarities between the cults of Parthenos and Artemis, and therefore it was 111 112 113 114 115 116

Stolba 2004a, 58. Kovalevskaya and Shevchenko 2003, 89, fig. 2; Bilde et al. 2008, 138. IOSPE I² 401: ὀμνύω Δία, Γᾶν, Ἅλιον, Παρθένον. IOSPE I2 344, the second half of the 3rd century BC; see also Chapter 2.3. Stolba 1996b; 2004a, 59. IOSPE I² 352, late 2nd century BC: ἁ διὰ παντὸς Χερσονασιτᾶν προστατοῦσα Παρθένος.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

87

perhaps only an iconographic influence. It is possible that the iconography of Parthenos was based on the Panhellenic iconography of Artemis, because there was no local tradition of representing Parthenos.117 The process of taking over local cults was not unusual in Greek tradition and this procedure also occurred in other Greek cities, an example of this is the city of Ephesus where a local goddess was associated with Artemis by the Greeks.118 What is of most importance is that the cults of Parthenos and Artemis have never fully merged.119 However, it remains unknown whether there was an independent cult of Artemis in the city of Chersonesus at the same time. Such a possibility has been suggested by scholars through the analysis of graffiti and terracotta figurines that have been found in the city. Nevertheless, the suggested interpretation of this data is rather problematic. As for graffiti, there is a strong tradition in Soviet scholarship to interpret the graffiti with monograms such as ΑΡΤ, ΑΡ, ΑΡΤΕ as dedications to Artemis which may indicate that there was an independent cult of Artemis of a private rather than state character.120 However, a new study suggests that the monograms are more likely to render personal theophoric names, such as: Artemidoros and Artemidora, which are attested in Chersonesus: LGPN lists 13 people bearing the name Artemidoros in the 4th and 3rd centuries BC, and one bearing the name Artemidora in the 3rd century BC. There are also graffiti that suggest a triad: Artemis, Apollo and Leto, and these seem more convincing with regard to the possible cult of Artemis.121 The interpretation of the terracotta figurines from Chersonesus as representations of Artemis is also problematic. The poor preservation of the figurines significantly impedes an in-depth analysis, since there are no attributes that are typical of the iconography of Artemis, such as a bow, arrows or a quiver.122 Also, the same attributes became typical of Parthenos; thus, it is virtually impossible to distinguish between both deities based solely on iconographic material. The aim of Euripides’ play was to explain the origins of the Attic cult of Artemis Tauropolos. For that purpose, Euripides uses a false or folk aetiology, according to which the epithet Tauropolos means ‘worshipped by the Taurians’. In fact, the cult of Tauropolos has never been attested in the Crimea; the epithet Tauropolos probably means a person handling or taming a bull and has nothing 117

For a thorough analysis of the image of Parthenos in connection with Artemis, see Bilde

2003. 118 119 120 121 122

Bilde 2005, 211. See Stolba 2004a, 64. See Solomonik 1968, 156; 1978, tables I and III; Shaub 2007, 275. See Solomonik 1978, tables I.86, 87, 98 and III.288. Shevchenko 1997, 256, figs. 1–4.

88

CHAPTER 3

to do with the Taurians.123 The reason why the myth of Iphigenia in Tauris was used by Euripides in his play can be explained by the literary convention of Greek tragedy. The motif of Greek heroes escaping from monstrous creatures or non-Greeks occurs in Euripidean tragedies, such as Helen, Andromeda, and Cyclops.124 Exactly the same idea also appears in Iphigenia in Tauris and becomes the basic plot of this play. This theme of Greek heroes escaping from the clutches of barbarian foes seems to express Greek superiority in terms of both their intelligence and cultural norms. Euripides appears to focus on the contrast between Greek courage and barbarian cowardice, Greek intelligence and barbarian gullibility, and Greek sensibility and barbarian savagery.125 Later, Aristophanes perfectly parodies the same motif in his comedy Thesmophoriazusae, in which a Scythian archer is substituted for a barbarian enemy.126 One of the most important elements in this kind of play (so-called escaping tragedy) was to place Greek heroes in remote barbarian hostile lands; the Crimea seems to be a perfect place for such a drama.127 The land of the Taurians was situated on the margins of the known world and was exotic enough to attract the Athenian audience. Moreover, it was at the time when Herodotus’ work was gaining popularity in Athens. It is assumed that his work had become familiar in Athens by the 420s BC, and to this effect his passage with a description of the savage customs of the Taurians must have been commonly recognisable.128 It is also noticeable that the political organisation of the Taurians illustrated in the tragedy was in fact a reflection of the situation in Greek society; the Taurians had their polis and they are called poleitai by Euripides. Moreover, the architectural features of the sanctuary of the Taurians strongly resemble a Greek temple.129 As M.V. Skrzhinskaya points out, the representations of the Euripidean tragedy known from Italian vases demonstrate that the Taurians were depicted as having the same ‘Eastern’ barbarian repertoire as the Scythians and Persians.130 Thus, neither the Taurians nor the Crimea were depicted in the tragedy as real; on the contrary, Tauris was represented as a mythical land inhabited by an imaginary people. The reason why Herodotus mentions that the Taurians themselves claim that their goddess was Iphigenia remains obscure; however, it cannot be excluded that the Taurians might have known certain elements of Greek myths which 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130

Bilde 2003, 166; 2005, 209–10 with n. 3. E. Hall 1989b, 122–23; 2006, 241; 2010, 272. E. Hall 2010, 273. E. Hall 1989b, 122; 2006, 241. For the convention of the story and its further reception, see E. Hall 2013. E. Hall 2010, 272–73. Skrzhinskaya 1988, 179–81. Skrzhinskaya 1988, 184–86.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

89

may have influenced their religion.131 This in turn could indicate mutual cultural influences between the Greek and non-Greek societies in the northern Black Sea region as early as the 5th century BC.132 However, Greek imports are practically absent at Kizil-Koba sites until the 4th century BC,133 which may indicate that trade contacts with the Greeks were established later than the times of Herodotus. Nevertheless, it seems probable that at least some Taurians were present in Greek cities, where they may have come into contact with Greek culture. Their presence is suggested by a grave inscription from Panticapaeum dated to the 5th century BC, in which a person of Taurian origin is mentioned (CIRB 114).134 Another source of information regarding a possible Taurian presence in Greek cities is local Kizil-Koba pottery which has been found in a number of Greek cities in the Crimea.135 Also, burials that have been dated to the earliest phase of Chersonesus with the deceased inhumed in a flexed position have often been interpreted as ethnic indicators.136 Even though it is not successful to treat material culture, such as pottery, and burial customs as clear ethnic markers, it seems reasonable to suggest that the presence of these local traditions in Greek cities were an effect of cultural interrelations between the Greeks and the indigenous population (see Chapter 4.4 for further detail). Even though it is not certain whether the story told by Herodotus indeed came from the Taurians who may have inhabited Greek Black Sea cities or from the local Greeks, purely Greek elements can be found in the story. Herodotus mentions that all shipwrecked sailors and all Greeks captured in the sea-raids are sacrificed to the goddess Parthenos-Iphigenia. This motif seems to be closely related to the myth, according to which Iphigenia needed to be sacrificed to a goddess so that the Greek fleet could sail to Troy. Thus, the Herodotean story appears to be an interpretation of the myth in which Iphigenia (as a goddess) takes revenge on those who are ‘responsible’ for her sacrifice, that is on all sailors.137 Significantly, there is no archaeological proof of human sacrifice being performed at Taurian sanctuaries or sacred places that are associated with the Kizil-Koba culture. What is usually found at the sites are the bones of domestic 131

Bilde 2005, 211; Braund 2007b. See Kolotukhin 1996, 86. 133 See Leskov 1965, 40–42; 1980, 51. 134 Kolotukhin 1996, 83; see also the cautionary note on the inscription by Braund 2004b. 135 Khrapunov 2012, 82–84. For Kerkinitis, see Kutaisov 1987. For Chersonesus, see Senatorov 2000; 2003. 136 See, for example, Leskov 1965, 182. For an overview of the subject, see Stolba 2011, 332; Stolba and Rogov 2012, 29–30. 137 See Braund 2007c, 192. 132

90

CHAPTER 3

animals which appear to have been frequently used for sacrificial purposes.138 However, it is worth noting that there is a number of known Taurian burials in which only skulls have been found.139 This may indicate that special treatment was reserved for the heads of the deceased or perhaps a head cult may have existed in Taurian culture.140 This in turn may correspond with Herodotus’ account, according to which the Taurians beheaded their enemies and carried their heads to their houses, where they were displayed on tall poles to guard the whole house (Herodotus 4. 103).141 To conclude, it appears most probable that Parthenos was a female deity of local Taurian origin who was incorporated into the Greek pantheon by the Greek settlers. It seems likely that the attributes of Artemis were used in Parthenos’ iconography which led to the identification of Parthenos with Artemis by the Greeks from outside the Black Sea milieu; perhaps Euripidean tragedy had an impact on such identification, since he associated the goddess Parthenos with Artemis Tauropolos.142 Even though it is not certain whether the tragedy was popular or ever played in Chersonesus, it seems probable that the play also influenced the Black Sea Greeks. Such an influence might have been the reason why from the late 4th century BC to the middle of the 3rd century AD the image of Parthenos Elaphoktonos (i.e. deer-killing) was continuously represented on Chersonesean coins.143 As already argued by Zograf, this coin type may have depicted a statue of the goddess located in her temple.144 Both the epithet and the representations of Elaphoktonos are exceptionally rare and it seems particularly significant that this epithet occurs in the Eurpidiean tragedy with regard to Artemis (Euripides IT 1113).145 Importantly, the cult of Parthenos may have been one of the most significant factors behind the creation of self-identity for the Greek polis at the time when it was founded by the settlers.146 According to the Greek system of religion, 138 See especially the Taurian sanctuary at Gurzufskoe Sedlo: Novichenkova 2002; 2008; Bondarenko 2010, 51–60. 139 One of the burials in cists excavated at the Mal-Muz necropolis consisted of 68 skulls: Khrapunov 2018, 339. 140 See Bondarenko 2010, 20–21; Kolotukhin 1996, 33. For analogies from Panskoye I, where burials with signs of decapitation have been found, see Stolba and Rogov 2012, 33–35. 141 Bondarenko 2010, 52. 142 See also Braund 2018, 33, who points out the importance of the myth in building a common ground on which the relationship between the city and its neighbours could be successfully constructed. 143 Bilde 2003, 169; 2005, 210–11; Stolba 2004a, 58; Rusyaeva 2010. 144 Zograf 1922; Bilde 2003; Stolba 2004a, 58. 145 For an analysis of the epithet and the full catalogue of the images of Elaphoktonos, see Bilde 2003. 146 See Braund 2007c, 197–99.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

91

gods were strongly connected to the land that they ‘inhabited’. Adopting a cult which had derived from a local tradition could create a stronger link between the founders and their new land; it also provided divine protection which was relevant for the settlers. As mentioned in the previous chapter, the cult of Parthenos was limited to Chersonesus and its immediate surroundings, and her cult seems to have not extended to the distant chora of the city. This may indicate that the cult was deeply rooted in the history of the place and the city itself and was strongly connected with the process of creating a city’s local historical and cultural identity. In that sense, Parthenos ‘belonged’ to the city that she protected and ‘inhabited’. 4. ETHNICITY IN BLACK SEA SOCIETY Ethnicity in the Black Sea Greek apoikiai has been one of the most discussed issues, especially by scholars who have often had a strong tendency to seek clear ethnic markers in archaeological material, such as burial customs and material culture; such a tendency is closely associated with the traditional culture-history approach which has for many decades been favoured, especially by Eastern European scholars.147 However, the identification of ethnicity in the archaeological record is problematic, as it has frequently been pointed out in literature.148 The attempt to identify and distinguish between the Greeks and the local population fails due to the fact that the archaeological record does not provide such a clear distinction. This is perfectly visible in the Bosporan necropoleis of Panticapaeum and the neighbouring cities where Rostovtzeff sought out pure Greek or Scythian ethnic markers in the funerary assemblages.149 In fact, such differentiation between Greek and non-Greek graves based on the archaeological material is impossible due to its mixed character, which was rightly pointed out by Gaidukevich with regard to late Hellenistic and Roman times; however, he interprets this phenomenon as progressive cultural assimilation.150 A good illustration of such a mixed assemblage is the Kekuvatskii Kurgan where Scythian-type arrowheads and daggers (akinakes) were found together with a Chalkidian-type helmet, Greek greaves and an Attic 147 See Shennan 1991. For a short analysis of the Eastern approach to ethnicity in archaeology, with an extensive bibliography, see Cojocaru 2005. 148 J. Hall 1997, 111–42. For an historical overview and discussion, see S. Jones 1997, 106–27. For a brief overview of the subject, see Owen 2005, 8. For the northern Black Sea region, see especially Petersen 2008; Tillish 2008; 2010; Stolba 2011. 149 Rostovtzeff 1931, 180; see also Rostovtzeff 1922, 74. 150 Gajdukevič 1971, 262–63.

92

CHAPTER 3

red-figure pelike.151 Moreover, a detailed analysis carried out by F. Fless and A. Lorenz at the necropoleis of Panticapaeum has shown that the grave assemblages were arranged according to the gender and social status of the deceased rather than their ethnicity.152 A similar example is provided by the central grave of the Kul-Oba Kurgan in which Scythian daggers were found together with Greek greaves and a bronze Attic mirror with a golden handle decorated in the so-called Scythian Animal Style (Fig. 9).153 Complex ethnic situations can also be found at the necropolis of Nymphaeum, especially in the graves dated to the 6th and 5th centuries BC. The excavator of the necropolis, N. Grach, does not attempt to differentiate between Greek and non-Greek graves.154 She identifies three local non-Greek funerary traditions: weapons as part of the funerary equipment (which is a possible Scythian tradition), the contracted position of the deceased (associated with local traditions of the region, especially the Asiatic part of the Bosporus),155 and the use of marine eelgrass (Zostera marina) as bedding on the floor of the graves, interpreted by Grach as a possible Sindian tradition.156 A notable example of the multi-ethnic character of the necropolis is provided by two roughly contemporary male inhumations (A59 and A60). These graves are situated 15 m away from each other and are dated to the middle and the second part of the 6th century BC respectively. Grave A59 contained an Ionian askos and an Attic amphoriskos whereas grave A60 was equipped with an akinakes.157 Therefore, it is important to stress that material culture does not clearly define the boundaries of ethnicity. As argued in Chapter 2, ethnicity should not be understood as a monolithic and territorially bounded entity which is defined by a concrete archaeological culture. Thus, it is essential to take into consideration the fact that objects may be used differently by different ethnic groups and they may carry multiple symbolic meanings among various groups of people depending on a given social and historical situation. Thus, it is crucial to understand how, where, when and by whom a given material form is ‘consumed’. Thus, the spread of, for example, Greek styles and objects should not 151

Fless and Lorenz 2005b, 22–23 and Taf. 9. Fless and Lorenz 2005a. 153 Tsvetaeva 1968, 44–50; Gajdukevič 1971, 283–89, who interprets the Greek finds as the spread of Greek culture; Fless and Treister 2005, Taf. 11; Fedoseev 2007. For a discussion, see Petersen 2010, 253. 154 Grach 1999. For an overview of previous ethnic interpretations, see Grach 1999, 25. 155 Parallels can be also found in Olbia, Chersonesus and Panskoye I: see Stolba 2011. 156 Grach 1999, 25–31; similar practices can also be found at Panskoye I (Stolba and Rogov 2012, 31–32). 157 Grach 1999, 47–49, 185, 205–06, tables 31 and 32; see Moreno 2007b, 150–51, who also discusses the aforementioned examples. 152

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

93

Fig. 9. Assemblage from the Kul-Oba Kurgan: a reconstruction with the arrangement of finds (after Fedoseev 2007, 1009, fig. 3).

necessarily be understood as the spread of Greek identity, since the material culture does not always indicate ethnic affiliation, but may for example signify exotic or prestigious objects used in social strategies to raise status.158 The anthropology of consumption in a colonial context has been discussed by 158

See Shanks and Tilley 1987, 114; S. Jones 1997, 126.

94

CHAPTER 3

Dietler, who gives a graphic contemporary example of how the meaning and the use of Coca-Cola varies in different societies, such as in Chicago, in which the drink is consumed on an everyday basis, and in the countryside in western Kenya where Coca-Cola is a luxury, sometimes even used in ceremonial commensality; however, the presence of the drink in western Kenya does not signify the ‘Americanisation’ of African society but rather the opposite – the ‘Africanisation’ of Coca-Cola.159 Furthermore, material culture might have also been used as various symbolic indicators of social domains, such as gender, age or status, within the same ethnic group.160 As a consequence, cultural exchanges between the Greeks and non-Greeks are today perceived more in terms of situational choices of individuals based on their conscious strategy that is used to manifest different social categories (such as gender, status or ethnicity), rather than the one-way passive diffusion of Greek culture which is associated with the process of acculturation (i.e. the Hellenisation of the nonGreek people). In order to explain such an approach to ethnicity and the material record, it will again be useful to draw an example from the necropolis of Nymphaeum. It has been noticed that the burials become wealthier in the second half of the 5th century BC, an example of which are the rich kurgan burials excavated in 1868, whose assemblages are now kept in the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford.161 The grave assemblages include weapons, horse equipment, precious jewellery, drinking and banqueting vessels and bronze mirrors. The graves are traditionally assumed to belong to wealthy Hellenised Scythians who were buried in the Greek necropolis.162 The burials have also been discussed by A. Moreno who highlights the greater cultural complexity of the region and the probable multicultural, Graeco-Scythian-Thracian background of the Bosporan aristocracy and their far-flung elite ties.163 A new approach to this subject has been applied by Petersen who argues that the grave-goods found in the necropolis were used to display the status and power of the local elite in the 5th century BC. As a consequence, the changes in the grave assemblages should be interpreted in terms of socio-political changes in the region rather than in terms of ethnicity and ethnic identity.164 The second half of the 5th century BC was the time of the creation of a unified Bosporan state under the rule of the Archeanactidae. It seems probable that in such circumstances, the local independent and multicultural society which had 159

Dietler 2009, 31–33. See Shanks and Tilley 1987, 105–13; S. Jones 1997, 119–26. For expressions of identity in archaeology, see Díaz-Andreu et al. 2005; Insoll 2007. 161 Vickers 1979; 2002. 162 For such an interpretation, see Vickers 1979, 11–12; 2002, 11; Y.A. Vinogradov 2001. 163 Moreno 2007b, 151–52, and see also 167–68. 164 Petersen 2010, 250–51. 160

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

95

a strong elite attempted to express their power and status through displays of wealth, which can be perceived as a reflection of the resistance to the rising power.165 It is significant that a noticeable change in the assemblages of the kurgans occurred in the 4th century BC when oil-related containers gained more popularity than previous banquet-related vessels. This in turn may have been the result of the subjection and adaptation of the society to a new political order.166 A similar non-ethnic approach has been applied to the early 4th-century BC kurgan complex in Kerkinitis, which is interpreted as belonging to the elite or a high social stratum of society who consciously used the symbolic meaning of kurgan construction in the status display.167 In other words, the expression of ethnicity by maintaining traditional burial customs appears less important than the expression of social status through various prestige markers (kurgan construction being an example of this) derived from different cultural spheres.168 However, it should be pointed out that such a social interpretation, which is based only on mortuary practices and grave assemblages, is also problematic. It has to be taken into consideration that mortuary practices and gravegoods may reflect not only the status of the dead but also the possible intentions of the living and their relationship with the dead. The importance of elite ties within cultural interrelations in the region of the northern Black Sea has recently been stressed by C. Meyer in his study on Graeco-Scythian metalwork.169 As he points out, Graeco-Scythian objects reflect a combination of the elements of Greek art and innovative components which correspond to the socio-political realities of the Black Sea community. This in turn indicates successful communication across cultural boundaries rather than interrelations based on passive diffusion (of Greek culture) and active reception (by non-Greeks). Major production centres of Graeco-Scythian metalwork have been located in Panticapaeum and other Bosporan cities.170 Importantly, the analysis of the metalwork indicates that jewellers and metalworkers had a mixed background, suggesting that they migrated from other regions of the Greek world.171 Thus, it is difficult to assume to what extent the craftsmen indeed followed the taste of their consumers.172 Graeco-Scythian 165

Petersen 2010, 251. Petersen 2010, 250–51. 167 Petersen 2010, 140–41. 168 Petersen 2010, 141. 169 Meyer 2013. 170 Meyer 2013, 126, 131 (after Rostovtzeff 1931, 400–02, 404–05). For more literature on the subject, see Moreno 2007b, 192, n. 245. 171 Treister 2005, 61 discusses the Hellespont, Western Asia Minor, Southern Italy and Macedon as possible places of origin for craftsmen working in the North Pontic area. 172 Meyer 2013, 7–8. 166

96

CHAPTER 3

Fig. 10. Phiale from the Solokha Kurgan. Late 5th–early 4th century BC. Gold. Inv. no. Dn.1913-1/48. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

Fig. 11. Schematic location of the inscriptions on the phiale from the Solokha Kurgan (after Mantsevich 1950, 227, fig. 9a).

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

97

objects may have functioned as a means of gift exchange within a widespread elite network that linked Spartocid Bosporus with the inland steppe. It has been suggested that exchanging such gifts was more important than an exchange in bullion due to the symbolic and ideological meaning they conveyed, which could be expressed through display and ceremonial performance.173 The representations on Graeco-Scythian metalwork have also been re-examined by Meyer who indicates that they express a common principle, a set of values that formed a solid basis for elite ties between the Bosporus and the steppe; these values included elite friendship, masculinity, authority, and elite collaboration expressed though idealised positive images of Scythian culture visible in scenes of elite activities such as hunting, warfare or funerary banquets.174 Worth mentioning is the reconstruction of the two severely damaged inscriptions on the golden phiale from the Solokha Kurgan (Figs. 10 and 11). The first reads: ΕΡΜΩΝ ΑΝΤΙΣΘΕΝΕΙ ΕΛΕΥΘΕΡΙΑ (‘Hermon (has donated this bowl to) Antisthenes (to the memory of the) Eleutheria (festival)’), and the second: ΛΟΧΟ. This seems to confirm that there were at least two other owners of the phiale due to the fact that the first two inscriptions appear to be intentionally removed by the third owner whose name does not appear on the vessel.175 This is likely to suggest that the first customers of Graeco-Scythian objects were members of the Bosporan aristocracy rather than the Scythians from the steppe to whom the objects were re-circulated in the process of gift exchange.176 The representations of Graeco-Scythian art are traditionally interpreted as partly idealised depictions of Scythian social life or illustrations of Herodotus’ work, which was first suggested by Rostovtzeff.177 This point of view has been followed by D.S. Raevskii in his interpretation of the scenes on the spherical vessels from the Kul-Oba and Voronezh Kurgans as depictions of Herodotus’ second tale of the origin of the Scythians (discussed in Chapter 3.1), in which Raevskii seeks elements of Scythian mythology (Figs. 12–16).178 However, such an interpretation, which is a result of a text-focused approach to GraecoScythian metalwork, ignores other possible ways of understanding visual art and the way in which the objects interact with the viewer.179 173

Meyer 2013, 241–45. Meyer 2013, 222–39. 175 Mantsevich 1950, 232; Treister 2005, 62. 176 Moreno 2007b, 193 with n. 247. 177 Rostovtzeff 1922, 104; see also Vlasova 2007, 237–38. 178 Raevskii 1977, 30–36; 2006, 48–55; Herodotus 4. 8–10. For a critique, see Meyer 2013, 26–28. See also Ivantchik (2001b; 2001c), who accepts Raevskii’s opinion that the scenes represent certain legends from Scythian mythology but rejects the interpretation of the scenes as depictions of Herodotus’ story. 179 Meyer 2013; 2020. 174

98

CHAPTER 3

Fig. 12. Ceremonial vessel with Scythian warriors. Silver. Chased and gilded. 4th century BC. Chastye Kurgans, Kurgan no 3, Middle Don Basin, near Voronezh, Russia. Inv. no. Do.1911-1/11. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

Fig. 13. Drawing of the silver vessel from the Voronezh Kurgan (after Raevskii 1977, 31).

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

99

Fig. 14. Scenes on the vessel from the Voronezh Kurgan (after Raevskii 1977, 32).

An important source of information about ethnic interrelations in the North Pontic area is local onomastics which has often been used in demographic studies of the region.180 Of special interest are non-Greek personal names that occur in the northern Black Sea poleis, because they provide a rich source of information about Greek and non-Greek social relationships in this region. It has to be noted though that there are a number of problems with the interpretation of onomastic materials. It is not always certain whether a name is of barbarian or Greek origin. Stolba’s analysis of a group of names which were considered Scythian in the past has proven their Greek or Asia Minor origin, clear examples of which are the following personal names: – Goson (Γοσων, -ωνος) that has been attested twice in Chersonesus in the 4th century BC and was considered Iranian, but linguistic study has demonstrated that it may well be a Greek hypcorism (that is a shorter name or 180 Y.G. Vinogradov 1981d; 1997a; Stolba 1993a; 1993b; 1996a; Tokhtasev 2013. There are two detailed studies regarding northern Black Sea onomastics: Cojocaru 2004 is the most recent study; though Zgusta 1955 remains useful, it is rather dated.

100

CHAPTER 3

Fig. 15. Spherical vessel from the Kul-Oba Kurgan with relief depictions of Scythians. Electron. Chased. 400–350 BC. Inv. no. KO-11. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

Fig. 16. Scenes on the vessel from the Kul-Oba Kurgan (after Raevskii 1977, 35).

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

101

diminutive form) from names such as Kosilaos (Κοσιλαος) or Kosillos (Κοσιλλος), since the alternation between gamma and kappa has been attested in the northern Black Sea region in graffiti dated to the 2nd century BC.181 – In the same way, Herokas (῾Ηροκᾶς, -ᾶ) that has been attested on pottery and inscriptions from Chersonesus was considered Iranian; however, the name is most likely a Greek short form for Herokritos (῾Ηρόκριτος) or Herokrates (῾Ηροκράτης).182 There is also a group of names traditionally interpreted as barbarian, such as Babas (Βαβας), Babon (Βαβων) or Akkas (Ακκας), which are more likely the so-called Lallnamen (i.e. phonologically simplified hypocoristic forms of given names) that probably came from Asia Minor where they were especially popular.183 Another complex onomastic problem is the name Scythes (Σκύθης, that is a Scythian) which has been attested in Chersonesus and Gorgippia (in the Doric form Σκύθας), and Phanagoria, from the 4th century BC to the 2nd century AD. The name was previously interpreted by scholars as evidence of the presence of Scythian citizens in the Greek city.184 However, a further examination conducted by Kadeev has revealed that most probably the name was borne rather by Greek citizens, not the Scythians themselves.185 The name was also popular outside the Black Sea region and has been attested in many places around the eastern Mediterranean from the 6th century BC until the first few centuries AD.186 This may be caused by the Greek tradition of name-giving after barbarian peoples, which is visible in names such as Aiguptos, Armerios, Assurios or Kimmerios.187 The only place outside the Black Sea region where the name Scythes may have by some means been connected with the Scythian ethnos was Athens, where a Scythian police force is attested. However, the name Scythes did not enjoy popularity among the citizens, most probably due to its connotations with slavery.188 In the case of Chersonesus, the name Scythes most probably arrived from its metropolis Heraclea Pontica where the name Scythes is attested in the 4th century BC, that is a century earlier than in Chersonesus; this is likely to suggest that the appearance of the name Scythes 181 182 183 184 185 186 187

Stolba 1996a, 446–47. Stolba 1996a, 449. Stolba 1996a, 442–43. Kadeev 1974, 56, n. 1 for further literature. Kadeev 1974. Kadeev 1974, 59. Kadeev 1974, 56–57; Herman 1990, 349. However, such names were most often born by

slaves. 188

Kadeev 1974, 58.

102

CHAPTER 3

did not have to be caused by direct contact with the Scythians.189 It seems probable that the name was popular in Heraclea due to the above-mentioned myth of Heracles’ son Scythes who was believed to be the ancestor of the Scythians.190 It is also significant that the inhabitants of North Pontic cities who bore the name Scythes, as a rule had a Greek patronymic.191 Consequently, in cases in which the father was called Scythes, the son bore a Greek name.192 Furthermore, if the occurrence of the name Scythes had been intertwined with close contact between the Greeks and Scythians, then this name should have occurred most frequently in Olbia due to the close economic ties that it shared with the steppe population. However, the name Scythes has so far not been attested in the city.193 It should be taken into consideration that fashion may have played an important role in name-giving and certain non-Greek names might have been popular amongst Greek society, Scythes being an example of this. Another important factor in name diffusion in the North Pontic area might have been connected with ritualised friendship (xenia). The institution of xenia used names as a reflection of biological affinity and often a son of one partner from one community was named after another partner from a different community.194 The exchange of names across not only political but also cultural boundaries was considered to be a symbolic manifestation of the bonds of solidarity between two families.195 As Mitchell argues, the institution of xenia among the people of the higher social strata was not only valuable for personal relations but it was also an important part of political activity and the ideological framework of a polis.196 Thus, the institution of xenia might have been used to establish and maintain the ties between the North Pontic elite and other aristocratic families, for example in Thrace and Athens.197 The Greek tradition of name inheritance, according to which a son often bore his paternal grandfather’s name, certainly had an important impact on the name-giving pattern.198 Another factor in name diffusion was mixed marriages 189

Kadeev 1974, 60. Kadeev 1974, 58–59. 191 For example CIRB 1137 A II, 22: Skuthas Theodoros (Σκύθας Θεόδωρος), Gorgippia, 3rd century BC (see Kadeev 1974, 61 with n. 51). 192 For example SEG 40.615 A, 11–13: Humnos Skutha (Ὕμνος Σκύθα), Chersonesus, 3rd century BC (see Kadeev 1974, 61 with n. 52). 193 Kadeev 1974, 60–61. 194 Herman 1987; 1990, 353–60. 195 Herman 1990, 351. 196 Mitchell 1997. 197 For the importance of the elite ties between Bosporus and Athens, see Moreno 2007b, 146–208. For the importance of xenia across culture zones, see Vlassopoulos 2013, 131–32. 198 For this tradition of name-giving and further literature, see Stolba 2013, 296, n. 9. 190

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

103

that undoubtedly occurred between the Greeks and local people,199 and also between the families bounded by the institution of xenia.200 There are at least three well-known instances in which mixed marriage between a Greek and a Scythian is mentioned by a literary source. The first two occurred in Herodotus’ story of the Scythian king Scyles (Herodotus 4. 78). According to the story, Scyles’ mother was Greek as was his father’s second wife who Scyles married after his father’s death. Regardless of whether the historicity of Scyles can be fully confirmed by a golden signet ring found near Istria (Histria) and coins with the legend ΣΚ/ΣΚΥΛ from the Dnieper basin,201 the story is likely to prove that such intermarriages may have occurred among upper class society. Another famous example is provided by Aeschines who mentions Gylon of Cerameis who marries into the Scythian nobility at Kepoi. This fact is used by the Athenian orator Aeschines against Gylon’s grandson Demosthenes as proof of his non-Athenian descent.202 An important piece of information about a non-Greek bearing a Greek name is provided by the above-mentioned funerary inscription of Tychon found in Panticapaeum (CIRB 114). It seems striking that the deceased was referred to as Taurian, although he had a typically Greek name and he was buried according to Greek fashion. What is important to note is that this person, having adopted an urban (that is Greek) way of living, was still well aware of his ethnic identity. Another possibility that non-Greek people living in Greek cities might have borne Greek names (and vice versa) can be raised due to the fact that bilingualism was prevalent among the citizens of Greek poleis. Certain Greek names may have literally been translated into Greek as in the case of the bilingual Phoenician-Greek inscription quoted by Vlassopoulos, in which Phoenician theophoric names are translated as their Greek equivalents: the Greek text reads ‘Artemidorus, son of Heliodorus, of Sindon’ whereas the Phoenician translation mentions ‘Abd-Tanit, son of Abd-Shamash, of Sidon’ (IG II² 10270).203 This is likely to indicate that non-Greeks living in a Greek milieu may in certain instances have preferred to use Greek names.204 Furthermore, it should not be excluded that among the non-Greeks certain Greek names were given after famous people, since this practice was also 199 Malkin 2009, 379; Vlassopoulos 2013, 132–33. For the northern Black Sea region, see Tsetskhladze 1998b, 44; Braund 2008, 363. For the evidence from the Panskoye I necropolis, see Stolba 2011, 333–34. 200 For foreign name diffusion due to marriage, see Hermann 1990, 352–53. For marriage due to xenia, see Herman 1990, 357–60. 201 Y.G. Vinogradov 1980; IGDOlbia 4; Mielczarek 2005. 202 Aeschines 3. 171–172; see Moreno 2007b, 167 with n. 120. 203 Vlassopoulos 2013, 134–35. For more examples, see Tokhtasev 2013, 579. 204 Vlassopoulos 2013, 134; see also Stolba 1996a, 458–60.

104

CHAPTER 3

common in the Greek world, especially amongst upper class families who manifested their social status in this manner.205 This also includes the northern Black Sea region; for instance, there are examples from Chersonesus, Olbia and Kerkinitis of citizens bearing the name Herodotus. 206 There is also a Themistocles from Panticapaeum (CIRB 384 A; 1st century AD). Additionally, the cult of the local hero Heuresibios provides an example of how certain names may become locally popular, which is perfectly visible in the inscription discussed above (I.Olbia 71 = IGDOlbia 11). Worth mentioning is the dedication to Apollo Boreas on a Clazomenian amphora found in the Western Temenos at Olbia where the temple of Apollo Iatros was located.207 The inscription reads: Ἀναπέρρης Ἀναχυρσõ Εκ(ο)λότης Ἀπ(ό)λλωνι Βορῆι μέλι πατρ(ώιον(?) ἀνέθηκεν) (‘Anaperres, son of Anachyrsis, a Scolotian (?) dedicates to Apollo Boreas paternal honey (?)’) and is dated by Rusjaeva to the second/third quarter of the 4th century BC. However, according to Y.G. Vinogradov’s interpretation of the dedication, the amphora should be dated to the second quarter/middle of the 6th century BC. He also points out numerous mistakes made by the dedicator (as proof of his poor knowledge of written Greek) and argues that Anaperres was a Scolotian (Σκ(ο)λότης, that is Scythian), whereas the name of his father Anachyrsis may have been an Iranian version of the name Anacharsis. The appearance of the name Anacharsis led Vinogradov to the questionable assumption that Anaperres was the son of the famous Scythian philosopher known from Herodotus’ story who gave his son a Greek name.208 Even if the patronymic can indeed be read as Anacharsis, there is no proof to confirm Vinogradov’s identification of Anaperres’ father as the philosopher, since such a name has been attested elsewhere between the 4th and 1st centuries BC.209 Black Sea onomastics has also been used as a source of information about the Greek-Scythian relationship in Olbia in the 5th century BC.210 The large amount of non-Greek names attested in the city at that time has been interpreted as being the result of a barbarian influx into the population of Olbia, which was caused by the fact that at the time, Olbia came under the control of Scythian rulers.211 205

Touloumakos 1996. For example: SEG 46.934; IOSPE I² 402, 9; IOSPE I² 346, 2. The inscriptions date from the 4th to the 2nd century BC. 207 Y.G. Vinogradov and Rusyaeva 2001, 136–37; Rusyaeva 2007, 100. 208 Herodotus 4. 76–77; Y.G. Vinogradov and Rusyaeva 2001, 141, n. 14; Rusyaeva 2007, 100. 209 For example at Athens: IG II2 3135; 11131. 210 Y.G. Vinogradov 1981d; 1997a. For an update on Vinogradov’s lists of names, see Tokhtasev 2013, 566, n. 3. 211 See Y.G. Vinogradov 1981b; 1981c; 1989; 1997c; Y.G. Vinogradov and Kryžickij 1995, 132–35. 206

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

105

The theory of a Scythian protectorate – now hotly debated and even discredited by some scholars – appeared in Russian literature during the 19th century and is based on Herodotus’ story about the Scythian ruler Scyles mentioned above (Herodotus 4. 78–80).212 The theory was also supported by the occurrence of the Olbian coins of Arichos and Eminakos interpreted as the names of an Olbian tyrant and a Scythian king respectively.213 This theory enjoyed popularity for many years, but today a number of scholars argue for a more independent status of Olbia rather than a subdued one in relation to the Scythians.214 The idea of a barbarian ‘protectorate’ in the North Pontic region was also reflected in Vinogradov’s interpretation of the 5th-century BC letter found on an amphora sherd at Kerkinitis.215 The letter is fully preserved and clearly refers to a trading activity. However, the meaning of the last two lines is ambiguous, as it has been pointed out by the first editor of the inscription, E.I. Solomonik: τελῆ γίνωσκε ἐς τὸ(ς) Σκύθας can be understood either as ‘find out who will go to Scythia’ or ‘find out who will pay the tribute to the Scythians’.216 Even if the second meaning was to be accepted, it has to be noted that the word τέλος has a broad meaning and may also indicate a tax or a payment date which would fit well in the context of the letter.217 As mentioned above, it does not appear possible to treat a name as an ethnic marker, since there are plenty of possible scenarios in which a non-Greek may bear a Greek name and vice versa. As a consequence, onomastic evidence can be misleading, and we cannot treat all non-Greek names as a determinant of the number of non-Greek citizens in Greek cities of the northern Black Sea shore. However, a close examination of the occurrence of non-Greek names in a Greek apoikia may provide useful information about cultural interrelations in the region. Undoubtedly, the fact that north-Iranian names occur in North Pontic onomastics appears to indicate intercultural influences in the region regardless of the ethnicity of those who bore a Greek or non-Greek name. It should be taken into consideration though that at least some inhabitants of Greek apoikiai who bore non-Greeks names may have been of local origin. The importance of onomastic analysis regarding the study of North Pontic society is perfectly visible in the works devoted to the Iranian names that occur in a great amount in the epigraphic material of Olbia dated from the 1st to the 212

Y.G. Vinogradov 1980. Y.G. Vinogradov 1989, 93–94; 1997c, 199–210; IGDOlbia 3. 214 For an overview and a critique of the theory, see Cojocaru 2005, 163–66; 2005–06; 2008; Kryzhitskiy 2005. 215 Y.G. Vinogradov 1997b, 20–21. 216 Solomonik 1987, 120. 217 See Solomonik 1987, 120. 213

106

CHAPTER 3

3rd centuries AD.218 As mentioned in the second chapter, after the invasion of the Getae in the middle of the 1st century BC, the citizens of Olbia allowed a Sarmatian population to settle in the city, which is mentioned by Dio Chrysostom (Or. 36. 5).219 It is assumed that the Sarmatian group joined the Greek polis following a treaty made between Olbia and the Sarmatian king Pharzoios (or his heir Inensimes), which is supported by the Olbian coinage of the Sarmatian king dated to AD 50–80.220 The great amount of non-Greek, mostly Iranian names that occur at this time is attested on the dedications to Achilles Pontarches and Apollo Prostates, the two main city cults associated with the most important political institutions and magistracies in Olbia. This is likely to indicate that the Sarmatian elite took part in the political life of the city.221 Even though not every name indicates ethnicity, it is still significant that the high social strata of the city preferred to follow a non-Greek tradition in namegiving, maintaining at the same time the Greek system of declension and the use of a patronymic, as noticed by J. Hupe.222 His analysis has demonstrated that the largest amount of non-Greek names of local origin belonged to the agoranomoi who performed a controlling function in the city and were subordinated to the strategoi and archons. This in turn may indicate that entry into the agoranomoi may have been more accessible to a wider group of people, often to those who preferred to follow the local rather than the Greek tradition with regard to name-giving due to their cultural habitus.223 As Hupe concludes, this is likely to highlight differences in the lifestyle rather than the ethnicity of Olbian society.224 The presence of Sarmatian names in the major magistracies and institutions of Olbia is often interpreted by scholars as an effect of the acculturation process (Hellenisation) of the Sarmatian upper class that belonged to the city’s elite.225 218 With both Greek and non-Greek patronymics: Hupe 2005; 2006b; Ivantchik and Krapivina 2007, 119–22; Tokhtasev 2013. 219 The Sarmatians are called Scythians by the writer; Tokhtasev 2013, 567; Y.G. Vinogradov and Kryžickij 1995, 143. 220 Tokhtasev 2013, 568–69. 221 The percentages of dedicators to Achilles Pontarches based on the origin of their names are as follows: Greek names – 54%, local Iranian (Scytho-Sarmatian) names – 29%, local names of uncertain origin – 10%, the so-called ‘Lallnamen’ – 4%, Roman names – 2%, and Semitic names – 1% (Hupe 2006b, 207, Abb. 1; see also Hupe 2005; 2007). It has to be noted though that Hupe’s list of non-Greek names needs updating: see Tokhtasev 2013, 577, n. 69. For a prosopographical analysis of the officials, see Oller Guzmán 2014. 222 Hupe 2006b, 208. 223 Hupe 2006b, 208–09 with Abb. 2. Habitus should be understood here as a particular set of values, lifestyle, expectations and preferences of a particular social group. For the concept of habitus, see especially Bourdieu 1977. 224 Hupe refers to it as ‘civilisational differences’: Hupe 2006b, 208. 225 Hupe 2005; 2006c; Tokhtasev 2013, 580–81.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

107

However, neither the presence of members of the Sarmatian elite in the political and religious life of Olbia, nor their adaptation to the new social situations that they encountered in the Greek city, need to be explained through passive acculturation. As mentioned in the previous chapter, the emergence of the urban cult of Achilles with the epithet Pontarches appears to be closely connected with the political situation in the city after the attack of the Getae. The establishment of the cult seems to be an intentional shift towards old Greek tradition which served as a unifying element amongst the ‘old’ and new citizens, an element that allowed for the creation of the city’s new collective identity. As argued at the beginning of this chapter, culture is not a clearly bounded, static and logically constructed unity, which results in the lack of complete coherence of culture itself, which in turn allows for the existence of a great diversity of sub-groups that manifest their own sense of identity. Thus, it is essential for a particular society to create and maintain minimal cultural coherence (Sewell’s ‘thin cultural coherence’) that allows culture to be preserved. This in turn requires both the maintenance of a given comprehensible semiotic system and the use of power strategies which involve the establishment of cultural boundaries and norms that can be formed through institutions, resistance and exclusion of oppositional groups.226 Consequently, the expression and maintenance of cultural identity appears to be determined by a given social order applied by a particular society. In the case of Olbia, the expression of the city’s cultural identity became particularly important after the attack of the Getae when the city was destroyed and then settled by a Sarmatian community. What is important to stress is that the cultural identity of Olbia remained Greek, regardless of the amount of non-Greek cultural components in the city, due to the fact that cultural coherence was based on Greek culture and maintained through political and religious institutions, cults, language, and other aspects of the city’s nomima. This, however, does not exclude the existence of other identities and non-Greek sub-groups functioning beyond the cultural ‘umbrella’ of the polis. Thus, Hupe’s conclusion that there was no place for multiculturalism in Olbia during the Roman times since the cultural habitus of the city (language, religion and customs) was Greek and stayed within the city’s political and religious institutions, does not seem convincing.227 The opposite conclusion can be drawn in which multiculturalism in Olbia resulted in a stronger need for cultural coherence and expression of Greek identity, which was possible to achieve through political strategies and the symbolic meaning of common ritual. 226 227

Sewell 1999. Hupe 2006c, 239.

108

CHAPTER 3

The importance of political theory for cultural studies has been stressed by J. Ober who points out that politics played a crucial role in maintaining the cultural coherence of the polis.228 Politics within the bounds of a polis was instrumental in defining and controlling passage across the city’s physical and cultural borders, conferring citizenship, establishing standard rules governing public and private behaviour, and legitimising the use of force through the applied system of justice.229 This in turn shielded the state from conflicts that may arise from cultural differences which may lead to stasis; thus, it was essential for the state to maintain the diversity–unity equation.230 This was possible to achieve due to the fact that access to political and cultural participation, which was also controlled by the state, required a certain degree of conscious cultural integration by those seeking membership of the city’s community.231 In other words, those who requested admission to a polis’s territory needed to make a cost-benefit calculation and intentionally decide to adjust to the city’s cultural self-definition. In the case of Olbia, such cultural integration accepted in exchange for participation rights must certainly have been achieved between the city’s new and old citizens. However, the question that arises when discussing cultural integration is whether the fact of participation in a city’s political and religious life must also have led to a shift in ethnic identity (that is Hellenisation of the Sarmatian population). A useful conceptual framework which can help to answer this question is provided by A. Melucci’s theory of collective identity. According to Melucci’s definition, collective identity is a social construction based on the idea of ‘being together’ in order to achieve common goals pursued by the members of the ‘collective’. In this sense, collective identity is a dynamic and continuous process of intergroup interaction, negotiation and investment in mutual benefits.232 This in turn implies a certain degree of emotional investment and some notion of unity, which can be expressed through a given set of rituals, practices, or cultural artefacts that are able to create a cognitive background for mutual interaction; in short, some sense of cohesion needs to be produced from diversity.233 However, as Melucci points out, this cognitive level of interrelationship does not require a unified and coherent framework, since it is constructed through active relationships between the groups who communicate, negotiate, and constantly influence each other; thus, collective identity should not be perceived as 228 229 230 231 232 233

Ober 2003. Ober 2003, 245–46. Ober 2003, 250–52. Ober 2003, 246. Melucci 1995, 43–45. Melucci 1995, 44–45.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

109

a monolithic unity created by the ‘collective’, but rather as a flexible system of relations and representations.234 Melucci’s comprehensive concept of collective identity has been used by other scholars in the study of social movements in order to explain how a sense of cohesion leads to collective action.235 When the concept of collective identity is applied to the situation in Olbia after the invasion of the Getae, it becomes clear that cost-benefit calculations must have been made by both the city, that was destroyed and desolated after the attack of the Getae, and the Sarmatian community, to whom access to the city’s territory brought enough profit to accept participation rights. As argued above, the incorporation of new citizens into the city’s community must have required a certain degree of cultural integration; however, it did not involve complete cultural assimilation, since the polis itself did not have to be fully cohesive in order to maintain its cultural identity. Thus, other identity groups, such as ethnic groups, may have existed within the cultural framework of the city. The multicultural character of the city’s elite, which is visible in the ethnic components in the city’s major magistracies and institutions, is likely to indicate that the Sarmatian and Olbian elite closely interacted with each other and negotiated mutual benefits from participation in the political life of the city, which was the basis of their collective action and collective identity. Furthermore, it appears clear that their sense of cohesion was strengthened through the participation in the urban cult of Achilles Pontarches that was rooted in the older Greek religious traditions of the region, which provided a symbolic link between the past and the present. The importance of common cult for a city’s self-definition is perfectly visible in the cults of Demeter and Dionysus in Olbia (Herodotus 4. 53. 6 and 4. 79). As P. Guldager Bilde has demonstrated through parallels in other colonial areas, the Orphic-Dionysiac cult (associated with transcendence and utopian thinking) in the early stage of the city may have had an important impact on the development of group identity among settlers as a response to their new living conditions and the stress combined with the process of migration.236 It has been proven that the development of the cult of Dionysus was an important element of expressing a city’s unity through the establishment of a close relationship between the territory and the citizens of a polis, for example at Athens.237 An important and oft-quoted source of information on the cult of 234

Melucci 1995, 44–51. See Poletta and Jasper 2001, who define collective identity as a sense of connection with a broader community or institution. In this sense, collective identity is part of personal identity. For an overview, see Flesher Fominaya 2010. 236 Bilde 2008. 237 Seaford 1994, 235–80. 235

110

CHAPTER 3

Dionysus in Olbia is provided by Herodotus’ story about the Scythian king Scyles (Herodotus 4. 78–80). According to the story, Scyles inherited the kingship after his father’s death; however, he rejected the Scythian way of life and preferred to stay in Olbia. Due to the fact that his mother was Greek, Scyles was bilingual and accustomed to living in a Greek way. He had two wives; the first one, Opoia, was a native Scythian who lived in Scythian territory beyond Olbia, whereas the second wife was Greek and stayed in Scyles’ residence in the city. The king chose to be initiated into the mysteries of Bacchic Dionysus (probably of the so-called Orphic type), for which he was executed by the Scythians. As mentioned above, a similar fate was met by the philosopher Anacharsis who was killed by his fellow Scythians for performing the rites of the Mother of the Gods (Herodotus 4. 76). It is significant, as Hinge argues, that the cults of Demeter and Dionysus have a strong agricultural character which is in opposition to the nomadic customs of the Scythians.238 Thus, the story about Scyles and Anacharsis seems to say less about the Scythians who do not tolerate foreign customs, but more about the juxtaposition of the rural and urban environments and way of life, which is defined by the Greek imaginative idea of civilisation (which is closely linked with agriculture). It is said that when Scyles comes to the city, he leaves his Scythian train outside, on the outskirts of Olbia. Once he crosses the zone of the city, i.e. the Greek space, he takes on Greek manners: Greek dress, language and cult. In this sense, the urban zone seems to be closed to outsiders, i.e. the steppe population, who live in a Scythian, non-Greek way. The cultural boundaries seem to be expressed in the division between an urban and steppe community which were the boundaries between the Greek and non-Greek environments, that is between Greek and non-Greek cultural identity. Such insistency on Greek identity is especially visible in the self-representation of the Bosporan rulers whose multicultural background has often been pointed out by scholars, especially with regard to the Spartocid dynasty.239 As mentioned in the previous chapter, an intentional use of genealogy and common kinship was present among Bosporan rulers during the Roman times who traced their origin to the Greek mythic past. Another important aspect of the self-image of the Spartocid rulers in the Classical period was their titulature, according to which they were leaders (archontes) over Greek cities and also kings (basileis) over local tribes.240 The titles archon and basileus, in conjunction with each other or separately, were in use until the times of Spartocus III 238 239 240

See Hinge 2008, 383–88. Rostovtzeff 1922, 67; Gajdukevič 1972, 66–69; Hind 1994, 491; Moreno 2007b, 167–68. For analysis of the titulature, see Moreno 2007b, 170–85.

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

111

(304/3–284/3 BC).241 Afterwards, the Bosporan rulers dropped the title of archon and ruled as kings, according to the fashion of the Hellenistic period.242 However, the Spartocid titulature appears on Panticapaean coinage no earlier than the late 3rd century BC, which is almost a century after coinage with declarations of kingship became common practice in the Mediterranean.243 Such double titulature was interpreted by Rostovtzeff as a compromise between the indigenous peoples and the Greeks, an effect of the dichotomy in the Bosporan population.244 However, given the fact that the Bosporan kingdom of the Classical period was a multi-ethnic conglomerate of coastal poleis and local tribal lands, the use of such titulature seems to articulate cross-cultural communication and unifying co-operation by the local aristocracy under the leadership of the ruling dynasty, rather than any real dichotomy whose impact on the political or legal status of the population has not been proven.245 As Moreno points out, during this time Spartocid titulature does not seem to be official, since it was not used on coinage or state inscriptions, but instead it appears on votive inscriptions of other members of the Bosporan aristocracy.246 On their own inscriptions the Spartocid rulers preferred to omit their titulature in favour of more modest phrases, such as ‘Paerisades and his children’, as recorded in the proxeny decrees: CIRB 1, 2 and 5.247 This may imply an ideological rather than a political use of the double titulature. It is likely that the Spartocidae demonstrated their authority not only through the expression of their power, but also through defining the limits of their power for political propaganda. Therefore, the most prestigious aristocratic magistracies in the Bosporan cities, such as traditionally esteemed priesthoods, were intentionally maintained by the dynasty. This in turn encouraged aristocratic collaboration, the evidence of which is perfectly visible in the dedications of the elite family in which the Spartocid titulature is mentioned. Such a system of ‘aristocratic power-sharing’ appears to be an important factor behind the stability and maintenance of government control.248 The adoption of the archonship was first attested with regard to Leucon I (389/8–349/8 BC). He is called ‘the archon of Bosporus and Theodosia’ and ‘the king of the Sindians, Toreti, Dandarii and Psessi’ or ‘the king of the Sindians 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248

CIRB 974, 1043, 18, 19. Moreno 2007b, 171; CIRB 20. Moreno 2007b, 183. Rostovtzeff 1922, 71–72. Meyer 2009, 197; 2013, 154. See CIRB 9, 1038, 1043, 1056. Moreno 2007b, 171–72; see also Meyer 2013, 155. Moreno 2007b, 185.

112

CHAPTER 3

and all the Maeotians’.249 It is significant that the archonship does not seem to have existed previously as an eponymous magistracy in other Milesian Black Sea apoikiai or in Miletus itself.250 The introduction of the archonship by the Spartocid dynasty appears to be an intentional shift towards the imaginary Greek past, in which the archonship is associated with the Athenian monarchy of mythical times.251 Meyer’s recent analysis of the Taman Yubileinoe stele with a relief dated to 375–350 BC provides fresh insight into the way in which the ideas of elite power may have been represented through visual art.252 It is assumed that the stele is a part of a monument or cenotaph built by Leucon to honour his father and his brother who died in 389 BC.253 The relief on the stele represents two soldiers, a mature man and an adolescent, and it closely resembles Athenian grave reliefs due to its conventional character.254 However, a few striking features can be identified. Both figures wear a Corinthian helmet pushed back over the forehead, which is unknown in Athenian grave reliefs and bears a specific symbolic meaning. This type of helmet was an identifying element of generals and was represented in both Athenian myth and history in the context of mortal (images on Persian War monuments) and immortal (Theseus in Amazonomachy on the Stoa Poikile) military leaders as a symbol of a specific system of moral values and leadership qualities.255 Another peculiarity is the anachronistic outfit worn by the figures in the Taman relief. In the 4th century BC, this kind of clothing may have been associated either with the Greeks of the past or the barbarians of the present, as it can be seen in Thucydides’ account; the writer mentions Greek clothing in order to demonstrate that the Greeks living in the past in many ways culturally resembled the present barbarians.256 Thus, due to the anachronistic clothing the two figures in the Taman relief can be perceived either as military or political leaders from the Athenian past, or as contemporary non-Greek rulers whose images reflect conventional Athenian civic art.257 As it can be seen, the relief’s iconography appears to demonstrate the selfrepresentation of the ruling dynasty that created a local form of expressing their authority, a form that would fit into the multicultural character of the Bosporan 249

Moreno 2007b, 170; CIRB 6, 1037, 1038, 8. Moreno 2007b, 182. 251 Meyer 2013, 178–79. 252 Meyer 2013, 169 fig. 57. 253 Meyer 2013, 178 with n. 111 for further literature. 254 Meyer 2013, 168–71. 255 Meyer 2013, 173–74. 256 Thucydides 1. 6. 3–6; Geddes 1987; Meyer 2013, 177. 257 Meyer 2013, 177. For a comprehensive analysis of the self-representation of the Bosporan elite through grave steles and reliefs, see Kreuz 2012. 250

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE NORTH PONTIC POLEIS

113

state. The legitimacy of elite power seems to be obtained through the analogies to the old Greek traditions of leadership and the imaginary Greek past, which is clearly visible in the adoption of the archonship by Leucon. CONCLUSION As argued in this chapter, culture should not be perceived as monolithic and fully coherent, since such an assumption, based on an illusory image of culture as a clearly defined and static unity, does not take into consideration the existence of other sub-groups and sub-cultures that continuously negotiate their flexible sense of identity. Culture should instead be understood as changeable and dynamic, and based on receptivity and interaction with other cultures. Culture is what defines and organises social life and thus it needs a certain degree of integrity and a set of practices (‘thin cultural coherence’) which allow culture to function. However, this necessary minimal degree of coherence can be weakened by various transsocietal processes, such as migration and the creation of diasporas. An important role in the constant process of negotiation and maintenance of cultural coherence is played by power and politics that define cultural boundaries and norms through state institutions and resistance to oppositional groups. In the case of the North Pontic apoikiai, such cultural coherence was maintained through the city’s nomima that defined social order and the city’s selfidentity which remained Greek in spite of cross-cultural contacts and the presence of other identity groups, such as ethnic groups, within the city’s territory. This is especially visible in the Bosporan state that strongly insisted on its Greekness, and in Olbia during the Roman times when a new non-Greek group settled in the city. What is more important is the fact that the existence of other ethnic groups in Greek poleis does not necessarily have to be explained through the process of Hellenisation, but should rather be perceived as a coexistence based on a certain (but not full) degree of integrity and assimilation which is necessary for a group to create a sense of collective identity. The ethnic-cultural contacts and the multicultural background of North Pontic society have conclusively been demonstrated by A.V. Podossinov who draws a number of examples of how the Greeks and non-Greeks established a feasible modus vivendi both outside and inside the polis. As Podossinov points out, if we want to talk about Hellenisation of the Barbarians, we may as well talk about Barbarisation of the Greeks, since cultural influences were not a one-way phenomenon but affected both the Greeks and non-Greeks.258 258

Podossinov 1996.

114

CHAPTER 3

The case studies presented in this chapter have demonstrated the way in which local cultural identity was expressed by the citizens of Greek apoikiai through myth and common genealogies rooted in the mythical past. The story about the origin of the Scythians illustrates the establishment of a semiotic middle ground between Greeks and Scythians through the participation in a universal mythical framework. Furthermore, it appears that the story played an important role in the process of familiarising the territory and understanding of the environment by the Greeks living in the North Pontic poleis. The cultural identity of Greek apoikiai was also expressed through local cults, since they were based on local historical and religious traditions, which clearly illustrates the development of a city’s own narrative. This is also visible in the Chersonesean worship of the city’s deity Parthenos whose roots can be found in a local non-Greek religious tradition. As it can be seen in the literary motif of Iphigenia in Tauris, the association of the Chersonesean deity with the Panhellenic epic cycle and tragedy may have influenced the way in which the deity was perceived in the Black Sea milieu. This is visible in the iconography of Parthenos who gradually became an Artemis-like goddess. Also, the motif of a deer-killing Parthenos which became popular in Chersonesus may have been introduced to North Pontic iconography due to Euripides’ play. This chapter also aimed to demonstrate that self-representation is crucial in expressing cultural identity. Such ‘intentional Greekness’ is visible among the Bosporan elite that seemed to refer consciously to the mythical imaginary Greek past in order to display social status and power. Another important element of the elite’s self-representation was a set of values that were used in a wider network of elite collaboration. As mentioned above, the Black Sea region belonged to a wider Greek cultural zone in which a set of representations, such as literary motifs, stereotypes and clichés, functioned and created an imaginary view of the North Pontic area and its non-Greek population. These representations and their impact on modern study will be the main subject of investigation in the following chapter.

CHAPTER 4

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

What was known about the Black Sea region and its inhabitants in Antiquity was constructed during many centuries of literary tradition, a tradition which created a set of common imaginary perceptions of the North Pontic world. As it will be demonstrated in this chapter, this imaginary view influenced further generations of writers, poets and historians, for whom previous works such as Herodotus’ Histories and other written or oral accounts concerning Scythia (which are not preserved) were a starting-point for their own observations and studies of the Black Sea region.1 Numerous excursuses included by Herodotus in his Histories played an important role in creating Greek written tradition and enhancing the distinctiveness of Pontic society. His extensive account on the Scythians and their customs and the geography of Scythia created a larger Greek written tradition that became a common myth regarding the Scythian image amongst ancient writers and poets. This so-called Scythian mirage was a part of a broader Barbarian repertoire that will be discussed in detail in this chapter. This repertoire also includes other common literary motifs concerning the North Pontic Others – the Cimmerians, Taurians, Sauromatians, Amazons and the Sarmatians. It is important to stress that the ancient literary tradition of the Black Sea lasted for centuries. In the case of the Scythians, the tradition is visible in written sources that continued to use their name when referring to other nomadic peoples from the East, long after the actual Scythians disappeared from the Eurasian steppe. An example of this is a fragmentary preserved work on the history of Byzantium written by the 5th-century Roman diplomat and Greek historian, Priscus of Panium (born ca. AD 410–420). In his work the Huns, Ostrogoths and other northern barbarians are still called Skuthai (Priscus, fr. 39 Blockley), which was certainly an effect of the literary style of writing in Atticistic Greek that was popular at that time in Byzantine literature. Moreover, when describing 1 For a concise overview of literary tradition concerning the North Pontic region, see Bäbler 2005b; see also Skrzhinskaya 2001. For a geographical image of the Black Sea in Antiquity, see Hind 2001.

116

CHAPTER 4

the sacred sword of the Huns, which confirmed the power of Attila, Priscus is clearly influenced by Herodotus’ account of the Scythian worship of the Sword of Ares (Herodotus 4. 62) and identifies the object with the Sword of Mars.2 In fragment 30 a reference to Herodotus (4. 13) is also noticeable, when Priscus describes the tribal movements away from the steppes of Central Asia due to the attacks on the Avars by griffins. It is assumed that this reference to Herodotus’ griffins and the one-eyed Arimaspians was not only influenced by the ancient writing tradition of the Asian steppe, but also a motif that provided a link between the written tradition and the Avar culture in which the griffinmotif was popular.3 The four case studies that will be investigated in this chapter will demonstrate the way in which Greek representations of the northern Black Sea non-Greeks were established and how they functioned in ancient tradition as a part of the wider Greek cultural zone. It will also be argued that these representations were often not firmly fixed, clearly defined and based on a simple structuralist polarisation of Greek versus Barbarian. On the contrary, they appear to be more flexible and based on a set of intentionally repeated stereotypes and commonplaces that were consciously used in poetry, tragedy, oral tradition and rhetoric in order to achieve the desired effect on the recipient. The development of the imaginary picture of the North Pontic world resulted in the Black Sea area being perceived as a distinct part of the Greek world in terms of both its geographical remoteness and cultural distinctiveness, which will be particularly visible in the literary sources from the Roman period that will be discussed in this chapter. It appears that the Black Sea Greeks were aware of how their region was perceived outside the North Pontic region, as it will be demonstrated through local artefacts that depict some of the most widely known literary motifs. Moreover, certain elements of the imaginary view of the northern Black Sea region played an important role in the creation of a local identity among the Greeks through familiarising the local environment and including it into local history and myth. As it will be argued, Greek representations of the North Pontic non-Greeks have often little in common with what can be seen in the archaeological material. The comparison between Greek representations and the archaeological record will be crucial to demonstrate that the way in which the North Pontic area has for many years been studied by scholars was strongly influenced by the Greek imaginary view of this region.

2 3

The fragment has been preserved in Jordanes Getica 35, 183. Blockley 1981, 54.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

117

An important part of the mental picture of the North Pontic region is the association of Scythia with the northern margins of the known world. This had a great impact on how non-Greek (often imaginary) peoples were depicted in Greek literature, which will be investigated below. 1. THE EDGES OF THE WORLD When investigating ancient geography, it is crucial to realise that every attempt to conceptualise the world in terms of spatial structures is a form of metageography, as M. Lewis and K. Wigen refer to it.4 This means that a spatial representation of the world requires an ideological framework which reflects the way in which the world is perceived by a given society. What is noticeable in the way in which the Greeks (as well as the Romans) perceived their oikoumene is that they arranged it according to an east–west axis. Such an orientation is still present today in Classical Studies in which the Mediterranean is traditionally divided into East and West. There are a few possible reasons behind the tendency in Antiquity to view the world through an east-west perspective. The first reason is that the Greeks did not have knowledge of the North and South Poles, therefore it seemed more natural to arrange the world from east to west. The second reason for such an orientation is that it was possible to travel across the Mediterranean which naturally determined the horizontal axis.5 Even though the east–west axis was often defined as travelling between Cadiz in Spain and the Ganges in India, the world had no fixed borders. Furthermore, the edges of the world were an imaginative construct and they were defined by legends, wonders, curious creatures and peoples such as the godlike Hyperboreans and blameless Ethiopians, rather than physical boundaries.6 Despite the gradual increase of geographical knowledge in the Graeco-Roman world, the idea of the earth’s edges established by myth and poetry was still held.7 Even after Alexander’s exploration of the East, literary tradition seemed to be stronger than the geographical reality; this understanding was strongly criticised by Strabo who accused the writers of ta Indika of intentional literary fiction and mixing reality with myth in order to achieve a desirable literary effect.8 There 4 Lewis and Wigen 1997, who discuss vague Europocentric notions of dividing the world during the 20th century. 5 Bowersock 2005, 170–71. It is worth noting that the usual way to describe the world by ancient writers was from west to east (see, for example, Strabo’s work). 6 Bowersock 2005, 171; Romm 1992. 7 Romm 1992, 41. 8 Romm 1992, 95.

118

CHAPTER 4

were certainly instances in which mythical or folkloric motifs were incorporated into the scientific discourse as a result of ethnographic observations based on literary tradition, as demonstrated by A. Dan with regard to the legendary Pygmies.9 According to Herodotus, the northern edge of the world was usually defined as being Scythia, which was the remotest inhabited region to the north (Herodotus 4. 17). It is noticeable that there were two traditions of the Scythians who inhabited the northern edge of the world. They were perceived either as so-called noble savages or crude barbarians. Strabo mentions that such a dichotomy had already existed before the time of the historian Ephorus who tried to emphasize the idealising version of the Scythians (Strabo 7. 3. 9): Now the other writers, he says [i.e. Ephorus], tell only about their savagery, because they know that the terrible and the marvellous are startling, but one should tell the opposite facts too and make them patterns of conduct, and he himself, therefore, will tell only about those who follow ‘most just’ habits, for there are some of the Scythian Nomads who feed only on mare’s milk, and excel all men in justice; and they are mentioned by the poets: by Homer, when he says that Zeus espies the land ‘of the Galactophagi and Abii, men most just’, and by Hesiod, in what is called his ‘Circuit of the Earth’, when he says that Phineus is carried by the Storm Winds ‘to the land of the Galactophagi, who have their dwellings in wagons’.10

This passage demonstrated that the idealising tradition existed earlier and was overshadowed by an opposite idea of cruel savages, which took place before Ephorus’ time. Ephorus in turn tried to return to the idealising version of the Scythians.11 This tendency for idealising distant peoples is explained by J.S. Romm as inverse ethnocentrism, according to which the centre of the world is perceived as the most advanced place that is corrupted by civilisation whereas distant peoples are seen as just and ethical due to their remoteness from the degenerated centre and the assumed simplicity of life; they were perceived in the same way as the golden-age societies who lived in a utopian and less corrupt era of human history. The opposite tendency is in turn described as negative ethnography which sees remote peoples as uncivilised and barbarous for the same reason, namely the distance from the civilised centre.12 It is worth noting that the tradition of inverse ethnocentrism was still vivid in Mediaeval and Early Modern literature, such as More’s Utopia, and the writings of 9

Dan 2014. The Geography of Strabo. With and English Translation by H.L. Jones, 8 vols. (Cambridge, MA/London 1924). 11 Romm 1992, 46. For discussion, see Chapter 4.3. 12 Romm 1992, 45–49; see also Campbell 2006, 93–105. 10

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

119

Rousseau, Montesquieu and Montaigne who created the image of the noble savage that was applied for example to the North American Indians.13 An important element of the imaginary view of the north-eastern limits of the oikoumene is the tale about the one-eyed Arimaspians and the gold-guarding griffins that is known from the fragmentary preserved poem Arimaspaea that was written by Aristeas of Proconnesus (Herodotus 4. 27). Herodotus mentions Aristeas as his source when listing the peoples who inhabited the north-eastern boundary of Scythia; running from south to north these groups were listed as Issedones, Arimaspians, griffins and Hyperboreans (Herodotus 4. 13).14 Herodotus mentions that it is said that the Arimaspians steal gold from the griffins, although he himself does not believe that the one-eyed people exist, and he describes the northern edge of the world as a rich source of gold (Herodotus 3. 116). As Romm argues, such a motif depicting combat between man and beast is commonplace in much of the folkloric and ethnographic literature and it always depicts mankind as the victor over savage nature.15 An example of this is the mythical battle between the aforementioned Pygmies and cranes.16 Furthermore, the importance of gold in the mythological context is also noticeable in such tales. Gold and golden objects were often markers of the boundaries between the known and unknown worlds. This is visible for example in the myth of the Argonauts in which the Golden Fleece marks the end of their journey. Another example is the myth of the golden Apples of the Hesperides.17 It is not certain when the Arimaspea was composed and the proposed dates vary from the 7th century BC to the end of the 6th/beginning of the 5th century BC.18 It is worth noting that the long-haired people who were depicted fighting a griffin on a silver mirror from Kelermes, which has been variously dated from the second half of the 6th to the 7th centuries BC, are often interpreted as Arimaspians (Figs. 17 and 18).19 It is also argued that the griffin motif was present in Scythian art and must have played an important role in nomadic symbolism, which is supported by the griffin-like representations on the tattoos found on a mummified body from a Pazyryk kurgan and other objects that displayed the griffin motif such as combs and horse head-dresses (Fig. 19).20 However, it has to be noted that the griffin motif was also popular in the Northern 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Romm 1992, 48 with n. 8; Lovejoy and Boas 1997, 289. For an analysis of the tale from an ethnographic point of view, see Skinner 2012, 64–68. Romm 1992, 70. Dan 2014, 44–45. For more examples and further literature, see Vassileva 1998, 73. Bolton 1962, 3–19; Ivantchik 1993b. For discussion, see also Romm 1992, 71, n. 60. Maksimova 1954, 297; Bolton 1962, 5–7, 89; Trofimova 2007a, 24, fig. 3.2 Mayor and Heaney 1993, 45; Rudenko 1970, 261–62.

120

CHAPTER 4

Fig. 17. Silver mirror from the Kelermes Kurgan. 7th century BC. Inv. no. Ku.1904-1/27. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

Fig. 18. Detail of the mirror from the Kelermes Kurgan. Inv. no. Ku.1904-1/27. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

121

Fig. 19. Tattoo motif of fantastic animals found on a mummified body in Kurgan 2 from Pazyryk. Ca. 400 BC (after Rudenko 1953, 309, fig. 177, and 311, fig. 180).

Black Sea cities, especially in Panticapaeum where the city’s coinage in the 4th century BC bore representations of a griffin (see Fig. 4.3). Similar coins with an image of a griffin were also issued in Chersonesus.21 As Skrzhinskaya points out, griffins were present in Greek tradition and it was a common decorative element in Greek art. It may have been transferred to the Black Sea region by the Greek settlers from Miletus.22 Furthermore, at the end of the Classical period the motif depicting combat between griffins and the Amazons (sometimes wrongly interpreted as Arimaspians) appeared on Attic vases and also became popular in the northern Black Sea region, particularly in Bosporus where this motif occurs on pottery and jewellery, often in a funerary context (Figs. 20 and 21).23 Another important element of the Greek view of the known world was the climate. According to Greek thought, the world was divided into several climatic zones. Although the number of zones varies depending on the author, three main zones can be discerned: the cold zone to the north, the warm zone to the south, and the moderate zone in the centre that was inhabited by the 21

Anokhin 1980, nos. 125, 126, 159, 160. Skrzhinskaya 2010, 347. 23 Skrzhinskaya 2010, 350–52. For Attic vases, see Fless 2002, 88–93; 2008; Langner 2005, 61–65; Fless and Treister 2005, Taf. 22. 22

122

CHAPTER 4

Fig. 20. Kalathos headdress with a representation of combat between the Arimaspians/Amazons and the griffins. Great Bliznitsa Kurgan. 4th century BC. Gold. Inv. no. BB.-49. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

Greeks themselves, as argued by Herodotus (1. 142 and 3. 106).24 It was assumed that each climatic zone determined human character and the human physical condition, as it can be seen in the 5th-century BC treatise Airs Waters Places attributed to Hippocrates in which the Scythians are mentioned as an example of people living in a cold and moist climate (Airs Waters Places 18–23).25 This environmental determinism, as Isaac claims, was developed further by authors such as Aristotle who used it as a useful conceptual tool for demonstrating the supremacy of the Greeks. The concept determined that the Greeks inhabited the most suitable and healthy region and were therefore strong, whereas the inhabitants of Asia were weak and effeminate by nature due to their geographical location and the regional climate and thus should be ruled by the Greeks. The same ideas were taken over by the Romans who substituted themselves as the ideal rulers. Isaac perceives this concept as similar to 19th-century environmental theory and interprets it as a sign of proto-racism in Antiquity; however, he excludes Herodotus who saw the connection between the climate and people’s nature but did not claim that climatic and geographical factors determined the quality of human groups.26 24 25 26

See Campbell 2006, 65, 128–30, 134–35; Redfield 1985, 110. Lovejoy and Boas 1997, 316–21. For an analysis of the treatise, see S. West 1999a. Isaac 2004, 55–109.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

123

Fig. 21. Attic red-figure pelike with a representation of Amazonomachy. Inv. no. KMAK-440 (photograph no. 1). Courtesy of the Eastern Crimean Historical and Cultural Preserve, Kerch.

It is striking in Herodotus’ description of Scythia that, as pointed out by Hartog, the use of symmetry is noticeable.27 It is visible that the southern symmetrical counterpart of Scythia is Libya, since both regions are described as opposite to each other: Scythia is affected by the cold whereas Libya is affected by the heat; the Nile is the counterpart of the Ister; the Egyptians consider themselves to be most ancient of men (Herodotus 2. 2) while the Scythians are the youngest (Herodotus 4. 5), and so on.28 This system of oppositions and the juxtaposition of two extremely different lands and peoples especially in terms of climate, which can be seen in the Herodotean description of the severe winter in Scythia (which led S. West to assume that Herodotus in fact never visited 27 28

Hartog 1988; see also S. West 1999a; 2004, 76–77. Hartog 1988, 14–19.

124

CHAPTER 4

Scythia),29 certainly played an important role in the creation of a mental image of Scythia as an extremely cold and inhospitable region at the edge of the oikoumene, an image that was vivid in both Greek and Roman traditions. As it can be seen, the image of the northern Black Sea region in Greek tradition was clearly determined by the idea of the edges of the world whose northern boundary was marked by Scythia, a land that appears to be more an imaginary construct than a clearly defined geographical region. It is important to note that the Scythians seemed to exist on two different levels: as real people inhabiting the North Pontic steppes and as an imaginary people who were an essential part of Greek mythic geography that allowed the Greeks to understand and conceptualise the known and unknown territories of the world. The same can be said with regard to the semi-mythical Cimmerians who will be discussed below. 2. THE CIMMERIANS – PEOPLE WRAPPED IN MIST AND CLOUD (HOMER ODYSSEY 11. 15) The Cimmerians remain one of the most obscure people known from Antiquity. Although the major misconceptions and confusions that have grown up around these people have their backgrounds in ancient times, they still impede understanding of the subject today. The ambiguity about the Cimmerians is mainly caused by Greek literary tradition, according to which the Cimmerians appeared in a number of locations in different historical contexts. What we know from the Assyrian and Babylonian sources is that the Cimmerians crossed the Caucasus as invaders at the end of the 8th century BC, at the time of king Sargon II. They were known by the name Gimirri/Gimirrāi in Assyrian and Babylonian sources, and Gōmär in the Hebrew Bible.30 Their land called Gāmīr(ra)/Gāmīr (i.e. the land of the Cimmerians) was located to the north-east of Armenia, which is attested by the archaeological material of Scythian type that has been found in Georgia.31 It is said that they achieved two victories in 714 BC over the Urartian king Rusa and the Phrygian king Midas. A Cimmerian presence is also attested in Asia Minor, territories of which were constantly invaded by them during the 7th century BC. This is also mentioned in Greek and Latin sources.32 29

S. West 1999a, 17. For various forms of their name and a full analysis of Cimmerian ethnonyms, see Ivantchik 1993a, 127–54; see also Ivantchik 2001a, 15; Diakonoff 1981. 31 Tokhtasev 1992, 565; Diakonoff 1981, 110, 103–22, 135; Corcella 2007, 580-81. 32 Herodotus 1. 6, 1. 16; Strabo 1. 3. 21, 3. 2. 12, 11. 2. 5; Steph. Byz. s.v. Syassós; Callimachus Hymn to Diana 253; Arrian in FGrHist 156 F 60, 76; scholia in Apoll. Rhod. Argonautica 1. 1126; Heraclides Ponticus 103–04, fr. 129; Aristotle, in Steph. Byz. s.v. Antandros; Pliny NH 5. 30

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

125

Nevertheless, the problem with the Cimmerians and their history occurs with the first appearance of these people in Greek literary sources. They appeared in the Odyssey of Homer (11. 13–19), in which they are described as inhabitants of a remote and mythical land on the opposite side of the Oceanus river that surrounds the earth: She came to deep-flowing Oceanus, that bounds the Earth, where is the land and city of the Cimmerians, wrapped in mist and cloud. Never does the bright sun look down on them with his rays either when he mounts the starry heaven or when he turns again to earth from heaven, but baneful night is spread over wretched mortals.33

Considering the fact that this land was forever deprived of daylight, this place was easily connected with the entrance to Hades, the kingdom of the dead, where Odysseus sails to meet the soul of the seer Teiresias. Thus, the Cimmerians, people ‘wrapped in mist and cloud’, were often associated by later authors with darkness and the underworld. This led to a growing number of misconceptions being associated with these people during many centuries after Homer’s Odyssey.34 One such misconception is caused by the fact that initially the western Greeks located Odysseus’ adventures to the western part of the Mediterranean, to the seas around Italy and Sicily. Therefore, the land of the Cimmerians was placed in the area of Lake Avernus near Cumae in Campania, where an ancient oracle of the dead was located. Due to the natural but also peculiar features of the lake, this place was considered as one of the entrances to Hades, which is mentioned by Ephorus and Strabo.35 This idea seemed to correspond well with Homer’s tradition and it also influenced later authors such as Posidonius who wrongly identifies the Cimmerians with the Cimbri, a tribe of probable Germanic origin, who were not attested by written sources earlier than the beginning of the 2nd century BC.36 The Homeric passage concerning the Cimmerians was widely known in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. It was one of the most important sources that helped create the Greek and Roman idea of these people. The Cimmerians became a literary topos and what is of most importance is that they lost their actual historical identity. This provides a good example of how long this common stereotype of gloomy Cimmerians existed in Western European culture 123; Polynaeus 7. 2. 1. For a detailed analysis of the history of the Cimmerians in the Near East and Asia Minor with a catalogue of Akkadian written sources, see Ivantchik 1993a. 33 Homer. The Odyssey with an English Translation by A.T. Murray, 2 vols. (Cambridge, MA/ London 1919). 34 For an analysis of the passage of the Odyssey, see Ivantchik 2005a, 53–66; 2005b. 35 FGrHist 70 F 134; Strabo 5. 4. 5; Tokhtasev 1992, 563; 1996, 7; Xydopoulos 2018, 76. 36 FGrHist 87 F 31; Tokhtasev 1992, 563; 1996, 8; Xydopoulos 2018, 76–77. See Bury 1906, who believes that the Homeric Cimmerians might be the Cimbri.

126

CHAPTER 4

when we look at the Adagia by Erasmus of Rotterdam. In this work the author collected ancient Greek and Latin proverbs and provided a detailed commentary for each example. The idea of the Adagia was to teach educated people how to use the proverbs properly so that they could show their eloquence and adorn their speech. In adagium 1534 we read that Cimmeriae tenebrae is a saying that expresses deep darkness or ‘the darkness of the soul’.37 Apart from Homer who is the earliest and initial source for this expression, Erasmus provides references to other ancient and Christian authors who mentioned the darkness of the Cimmerians using Homer as their source.38 In later times, especially during the Hellenistic period, it was popular amongst ancient scholars to make conjectures in Homeric text in order to distinguish the poetic Cimmerians from the historical tribe. The scholars were looking for a hidden meaning of the name Cimmerian suggesting other readings such as Kerberioi (Crates associated it with Cerberus, the hound of Hades), Cheimerioi (from cheimon, i.e. winter) or Kemmerioi (from kemmeros, i.e. mist).39 Another Greek written source that locates the Cimmerians beyond the Near East and Asia Minor is Herodotus, who obtained this information from the Arimaspaea by Aristeas (Herodotus 4. 11–13; cf. 1. 15, 1. 103–104, 4. 1 and 7. 20). According to Herodotus, the Cimmerians had once inhabited the steppes of the northern Black Sea region and were driven from their country by the Scythians. He also mentions that the Cimmerian aristocrats did not want to leave their country and battled one another, and their tumuli were supposed to be located beside the River Tyras (Dniester). The rest of the Cimmerian population migrated southwards along the Black Sea coast of the Caucasus to the city of Sinope in Asia Minor, but they left traces of their presence on the northern Black Sea shore in local toponyms (Herodotus 4. 11–13; Strabo 1. 1. 10, 1. 2. 9, 3. 2. 12, 7. 4. 3 and 11. 2. 5). What is of most importance is the fact that ancient authors and also some recent scholars identified Homer’s Cimmerians with the Cimmerians described by Herodotus on account of a traditional association of the far north with long wintry nights.40 However, such an identification does not seem correct, as the idea of the cold, wintery and dark north located on the northern Black Sea shores appeared in Greek tradition later than the time of Homer and it most probably originated in Herodotus’ logos on Scythia and in works such as Ps.-Hippocrates’ Airs Waters Places, 37 Multam obscuritatem aut animi caliginem Cimmerias tenebras appellant; Heinimann et al. 1987, 42–45. 38 For example, Lactantius Inst. 5. 3. 23; Strabo 1. 1. 10; Cicero Ac. 1. 2 (Lucullus); Ovid Met. 11. 592; Eustathius Scholia to the Odyssey 1671. 1, 5. 39 Heubeck and Hoekstra 1989, 79; Ivantchik 1993a, 127–29; 2005a, 54–56; 2005b, 83–84. 40 Lehmann-Haupt 1921, 427. For discussion, see Heubeck and Hoekstra 1989, 78.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

127

as mentioned in the previous section. Thus, the location of the Homeric Cimmerians should be understood only as a mythological, legendary place where the entrance to Hades is situated. Moreover, the word zofos used by Homer can mean darkness as well as west, which may indicate that the poet identified the country of the Cimmerians in the dark west, wrapped in mist and cloud, as opposed to the bright east and perpetual light, which was traditionally related to Elysium and Olympus.41 Therefore, the Homeric Cimmerians may have been a literary creation used in sharp contrast with such mythological people as the Laestrygonians and the Ethiopians who lived happily in everlasting sunlight.42 However, it cannot be disregarded that the tradition of the remote people inhabiting the edges of Oceanus might have existed in oral tradition long before the origin of Homer’s poem. It has also been suggested that the Homeric mention of the Cimmerians may have originated from an earlier Greek epic from the 8th century BC, the Argonautica, in which the historical Cimmerians may have been mentioned by name as people who lived eastward of Colchis.43 It is also possible that the source of information about the Cimmerians who occurred in Homer’s poem can be found in the Near East. This theory was presented by D. Panchenko who proposed intriguing similarities between the Babylonian Map of the World and the aforementioned passage from Homer.44 The map is inscribed on a small clay tablet, now kept in the British Museum (BM 92687), and depicts the earth surrounded by a river. The document is a later copy of the original which dates to the late 8th or 7th century BC.45 The upper part of the obverse and the reverse are covered by inscriptions. The world represented on the map is divided into several (originally eight) regions called nagû and each nagû has its own description.46 The northern region has not been preserved on the map, but the inscription has survived and identifies this particular nagû as ‘a place where the Sun is not seen’.47 It has been noticed by West that this inscription strongly resembles the passage from the Odyssey.48 Horowitz suggests that there are two possible interpretations of this expression found on the tablet. The first one assumes that the northern nagû was considered as a place of perpetual darkness.49 However, Panchenko rightly points out 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

Heubeck and Hoekstra 1989, 78. Lesky 1959; Heubeck and Hoekstra 1989, 79; Homer Iliad 1. 423, 23. 205, Odyssey 1. 22. Von der Mühll 1959, 148–50; Tokhtasev 1992, 565; Ivantchik 2005a, 59–64; 2005b, 89–96. Panchenko 1998. Horowitz 1988, 152 with fig. 2, 153. For a full transcription of the texts with detailed analysis, see Horowitz 1988. Horowitz 1988, 158. M. West 1997, 145. Horowitz 1988, 158.

128

CHAPTER 4

that this theory has to be shaved by Ockham’s razor.50 According to the other more convincing theory, the northern nagû was called ‘a place where the Sun is not seen’, because it refers to the Babylonian cosmographic conception, according to which the sun, when wandering through the sky, never passes through its northern parts. This idea seems logical when one considers the latitude of Mesopotamia. As Horowitz informs us, this interpretation was first suggested by C.B.F. Walker in a short British Museum leaflet.51 Panchenko suggests that the expression ‘a place where the Sun is not seen’ may have existed in Akkadian as an idiom which meant the north. Since the Assyrians knew about the lands of the Cimmerians by the 8th century BC, they may have transferred this information (that was part of Assyrian geographical tradition) to the Greeks via the various trade routes that passed through Asia Minor. If we assume so, the passage from the Odyssey can be seen as a misunderstanding of a foreign idiom by the Greeks.52 It seems likely that the idea that the Cimmerians inhabited a remote land covered by darkness existed in the oral tradition of the Epic Cycle at the time of the construction of the Odyssey. It is also possible that the information about the Cimmerians who came from the land where the sun never shines became one of the recurring motifs in Greek epic tradition which were used to create the idea of the people at the edges of the world, regardless of where they were exactly located, since mythological geography was extremely flexible in the Greek world and it was often determined by the context of a story. Therefore, the Cimmerians mentioned by Homer should not be identified with the Herodotean Cimmerians who supposedly inhabited the northern Black Sea steppe. Also, Herodotus’ account of the Cimmerians being driven out by Scythian tribes is problematic. It has been archaeologically proven that the Cimmerians were present in the Near East and Asia Minor; however, there is no archaeological material that can indicate their existence in the northern Black Sea region due to the fact that in the Early Scythian period, Cimmerian and Scythian material culture is in fact indistinguishable.53 This lack of distinctiveness is visible not only in the archaeological material, but also in Near Eastern written sources. In late Babylonian texts the term Cimmerians was used to describe both the Scythians and the Sacae, whereas in royal inscriptions the late Babylonian term Saka, which was used as a synonym for both the Middle Asian nomads and the Black Sea Scythians, corresponds with the Akkadian Gimirraia. This is likely to show a strong cultural 50

I.e. we should support hypotheses which require the fewest assumptions; Panchenko 1998,

397. 51 52 53

Horowitz 1988, 158 with n. 12; Panchenko 1998, 397. Panchenko 1998, 397. Ivantchik 1995; 2001a, 16–20.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

129

connection between these two groups of nomads whose lifestyle was unknown to the Near Eastern people. As a result, in Akkadian sources objects of Scythian and Cimmerian material culture (such as bows and arrows) were not distinguished and both were identified as Cimmerian.54 In order to find a cultural distinction between these two groups of people, Ivantchik provided a detailed analysis of the archaeological material from the territories where only a Cimmerian presence is attested by written sources. This method excludes the eastern parts of Assyria, Media, Manna and Urartu, and it focuses on the territories of Asia Minor where a Scythian presence is attested only by relatively late Greek sources (last quarter of the 7th century BC). The material from two archaeological sites with nomadic burials, at Norşun Tepe and İmirler near Amasya has been investigated, which led to the conclusion that there are two distinctive features of Cimmerian culture that may indicate a Cimmerian variant of the Early Scythian culture. One of the features is a bimetallic axe55 found at İmirler which is not typical of the Early Scythian culture and has analogies in other archaeological sites at Muş in Asia Minor, in the area of the Aral Sea (Uigarak), the South Urals, the Volga region (Ananino, Orenburg) and Siberia (for example Minusinsk); similar objects have also been found at Perkals in the Caucasus. Analysis of these locations may reflect the path that the Cimmerians took from the region of Kazakhstan and the Urals, through the Caucasus, to the Near East. Another feature of a possible Cimmerian variant of the Early Scythian culture is visible in their funeral rites. Unlike other burial constructions of the Early Scythian type which were usually made of wood, the examples from Norşun Tepe and İmirler consisted of stones and mud-bricks. Similar burial constructions have been found in the central part of Ciscaucasia where bimetallic axes have also been discovered (Pyatigorsk and Gundelen). These examples seem to indicate that these two features of Cimmerian material culture distinguished it from the larger Early Scythian archaeological culture.56 As a matter of fact, all attempts to identify the presence of the Cimmerians in the northern Black Sea region using archaeological material have never been satisfactorily convincing. Some scholars argue that this location is purely legendary,57 whereas others assume that the Cimmerians came to the northern Black Sea steppes after the period of their existence in Asia.58 It has also been suggested by Ivantchik that the Herodotean mention of the Scythian attack on 54 55 56 57 58

Ivantchik 1995, 5; 2001a, 16; Diakonoff 1981, 133–36. Kossack 1987, 69, Abb. 26, no. 2. Ivantchik 1994; 1995, 6–13; 1997; 2001a, 21–56. Cozzoli 1968. Kristensen 1988, 102–03.

130

CHAPTER 4

the Cimmerians is drawn from Aristeas’ Arimaspaea and it referred to a clash between them in Asia Minor.59 I.M. Diakonoff assumes that the Cimmerians were a nomadic group who came to the northern Black Sea steppes at the time of the Scythians or shortly before them and that they then turned back to Asia, probably without their women and children, where they then merged with the local peoples.60 However, this does not seem convincing in the light of Ivantchik’s investigation of the Cimmerian route from the Ural region to the Near East.61 Even if we assume that it was a separate group of Cimmerian tribes who reached the Black Sea shores, the archaeological distinctiveness of such a group from the Early Scythian culture still remains vague. Archaeological investigation carried out on both shores of the Kerch Strait and in the lower Dniester has proven that these regions were largely uninhabited from the 10th century BC until the time of the Scythian arrival, which corresponds with the period of the Novocherkassk culture, previously identified with the Cimmerians.62 Moreover, no archaeological material of the Novocherkassk type has been found in Transcaucasia, the Near East or Asia Minor, i.e. in the territories where a Cimmerian presence is testified. Only objects of the Early Scythian type have been found in those areas.63 The oldest artefacts of Early Scythian type have been discovered in south Siberia in Tuva and they date to the end of the 9th century BC.64 Analysis of the archaeological material can be used to reconstruct how the bearers of this culture spread westwards during the next century. One group moved further west and reached the territory of modern Bulgaria, and these should be identified with the Scythians of the northern Black Sea area and with the bearers of the Novocherkassk culture. The other group, which should be identified with the historical Cimmerians, stayed in northern Caucasia and partly penetrated into Transcaucasia. Lastly, in the 7th century BC they went further south and reached Asia Minor.65 Cimmerian toponyms that occur frequently along the northern Black Sea coast are often wrongly interpreted by modern scholars as evidence that the Cimmerians originally inhabited these territories and that the Greeks may have met the last remaining groups of these people.66 What seems more probable is 59

Ivantchik 1987. Diakonoff 1981, 122–40. 61 Ivantchik 1995; 1997; 2001a. 62 Y.G. Vinogradov 1983, 370–71; Tokhtasev 1984, 142–43; 1992, 564. 63 Kossack 1987, 47–48, 63, 66–67; Diakonoff 1981, 133; Kleiner et al. 1967, 94, 135; Tokhashev 1992, 564. 64 Kossack 1987, 25. 65 Tokhtasev 1992, 564. For archaeological material, see Murzin 1984; Ilinskaya and Terenozhkin 1983, 18–86. 66 See, for example, Zgusta 1955, 16; Gajdukevič 1971, 36; Maslennikov 1980, 15–16. See Strabo 11. 2. 5. 60

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

131

that the Cimmerian names were given by the Greeks, who arrived on the northern Black Sea shores in the 7th and 6th centuries BC, because they believed that the land was once inhabited by the Cimmerians, just as they ascribed many ancient ruins that they found in Greece to the half-mythical Pelasgians.67 This is visible in the case of an ancient tumulus beside the River Tyras that was considered to be Cimmerian by the Black Sea Greeks, as well as the ruins of defensive structures that were called Kimmeria teichea (‘Cimmerian fortifications’: Herodotus 4. 12). Similar ancient remains of previous non-Greek settlements ascribed to the Cimmerians can also be found elsewhere in the northern Black Sea region. Archaeological investigation carried out at the settlement of Cimmericum (late 6th century BC–3rd century AD) has revealed a stratigraphic level that is dated prior to the Greek settlement, namely to the Late Bronze Age.68 The name of the Greek city clearly indicates that the Greeks considered this ancient settlement to be Cimmerian. A parallel interpretation may have been given by the Black Sea Greeks to another place called Kimmerie chore (‘Cimmerian land’: Herodotus 4. 12) and as a result, to the whole region of the Kerch Strait, which in Antiquity was called the Cimmerian Bosporus.69 It seems likely that Herodotus mentions Cimmerian place-names that spread along the coast, because he wants to confirm that in the past the Cimmerians were present in the area of the Kerch Strait.70 It is important to point out that Herodotus’ account of the Cimmerians being driven from the Black sea steppes by the Scythians has led to a serious misunderstanding amongst modern scholars. The term Cimmerian culture, which usually refers to the North Pontic and North Caucasian Chernogorovka and Novocherkassk cultures, is commonly used in literature to describe the material culture of the people who inhabited the northern Black Sea region before the arrival of the Scythians.71 This in turn unnecessarily suggests an ethnic affiliation of these cultures with the Cimmerians. The so-called Cimmerian culture has in fact nothing to do with the ethnicity of the peoples who were the bearers of this culture. This term is based only on literary source and, as Ivantchik has suggested many times, should indeed be avoided.72 The origin of the Cimmerians is also a hotly debated issue. As mentioned above, except for several examples provided by Ivantchik, the Cimmerians 67

Tokhtasev 1992, 564. See Golenko 2007. 69 Tokhtasev 1992, 564; 1996, 13–14. See Strabo 7. 4. 3. 70 Corcella 2007, 580. 71 For Novocherkassk, see Terenozhkin 1976. For Chernogorovka, see Leskov 1981, 64–109. For an overview, see Makhortykh and Skoryi 2004. 72 Ivantchik 1993a, 12; 1995, 6, 19; 1997; 2001a, 16–20. For an historical overview of the question regarding the ‘Cimmerian culture’, see Alekseev 2003, 129–52. 68

132

CHAPTER 4

cannot be differentiated archaeologically from the Scythians, which led scholars to a generally accepted assumption that the Cimmerians were most probably of Iranian origin.73 This opinion is supported by the fact that the Scythians and Cimmerians were perceived by the inhabitants of Mesopotamia as a people who represented a single cultural and economic entity, which may indicate a very strong cultural and perhaps ethnic connection between these two groups of people. It has to be noted though that having a similar material culture does not necessarily indicate a common origin, since it may well be caused by general similarities in a nomadic lifestyle. Furthermore, the etymologic analysis of the Cimmerian names has not provided any reliable nor satisfactory evidence for the origin of these people.74 Another opinion according to which the Cimmerians were of Thracian origin, which was accepted by earlier scholars such as Rostovtzeff,75 does not provide any clear evidence and it is based on confused information from Strabo who called the Cimmerians Treres (Strabo 1. 3. 21). However, in all other references Strabo and other ancient authors treated these two groups of people separately.76 To sum up, the archaeological material and written sources that concern the history of the Cimmerians clearly indicate that the Cimmerians may have never inhabited the northern Black Sea steppes and that they had not been driven from their lands by the Scythians, as it is conventionally assumed on the basis of literary tradition.77 In fact, the existence of the Cimmerians is attested only in the territories of the Near East and Asia Minor, but archaeological finds connected with the ‘Cimmerian’ variant of the Early Scythian culture may also illustrate the route of their migration from the areas of Kazakhstan and the Urals. However, it appears that the tradition of a Cimmerian presence in the North Pontic area was an important element of a local identity among the Black Sea Greeks. As argued in Chapter 2.3, such local identities did not have to be based on real historical events. On the contrary, the establishment of a local historical identity is often based on creative remembering of the past, which allows a society to understand and familiarise its environment. In that sense, the idea of the Cimmerians inhabiting the northern Black Sea region before the arrival of the Scythians may have been adopted by the Black Sea Greeks in order to describe past events that took place in their land. At the same time, the 73

Ivantchik 1993a, 153–54, 156; 1995, 20; 1997; 2001b; Tokhtasev 1992, 564–65. See Ivantchik 1993a; Diakonoff 1981, 112, 116–17. 75 Rostovtzeff 1922, 13, 39; also Lehmann-Haupt 1921, 397; Gajdukevič 1971, 368. 76 Strabo 12. 3. 24, 12. 8. 7, 13. 4. 8; cf. Callisthenes in FGrHist 124 F 29. See Tokhtasev 1992, 565; Cozzoli 1968, 75; Xydopoulos 2018, 77. 77 See, for example, Artamonov 1974; Terenozhkin 1976; Machortych and Ievlev 1992; Makhortykh and Skoryi 2004. See also Erlikh 1994, who strongly insists on the Black Sea origin of the Cimmerians. 74

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

133

Cimmerians functioned as a literary motif of people associated with mist and darkness, people who inhabit remote and gloomy places such as the Underworld or the northern edges of the oikoumene. As it will be argued further on in this chapter, having a double, legendary and historical identity was not unusual for the North Pontic Others. Another example of this type of conflicting identity is provided by the Scythians who will be discussed below. 3. THE SCYTHIANS AND COMMON CLICHÉS When studying the issue of the image of the Scythians in Antiquity, the first thing that should be mentioned is the fact that the ancient Greeks used the name ‘Scythians’ to describe all of the nomadic and semi-nomadic populations that inhabited vast territories of the steppes north of the Black Sea. In turn, in the territories of Asia, the Scythians were known as Sacae (Sakā). As Herodotus informs us, the Scythians called themselves Skolotai (Herodotus 4. 6), which is probably a dialectal form that corresponds with the Neo-Assyrian As/Áš-gu/ ku-za-a-a and the Hebrew *᾿škwz/᾿šknz,78 whereas the Greeks used the name Skuthai.79 Both the Scythians and Sacae were in fact groups of various tribes who were scattered across the Eurasian Steppe and shared a common lifestyle based on pasturage. Even though it is generally assumed that they were of Iranian origin, they most probably included a number of different ethnicities.80 This is also visible in the way in which Soviet and Russian Scythologists have divided the North Pontic region into a number of different archaeological ‘cultural groups’ that were present during the Scythian period.81 Despite the fact that, as it is visible in Herodotus’ work (Herodotus 4. 17–20), the Black Sea Greeks were well aware of the demographic situation in the neighbouring steppe and were able to distinguish between different groups of people commonly labelled as Scythians, the term Skuthai remained the most general name for the North Pontic steppe people in Greek (and Roman) tradition. Similar blanket terms such as Scythians are also known from other parts of the world. Such blanket terms usually describe various groups of peoples who inhabit vast territories but share a similar lifestyle and have similar material culture. There are modern examples of such terms, for example Eskimo which is a general term that refers to two main ethnic groups, the Inuit of northern Alaska, Canada and Greenland, and the Yupik of central Alaska and Siberia. The name Eskimo is generally 78 79 80 81

See Genesis 10:3; Jeremiah 51:27: ‫א ְשׁ ֲכּנַ ז‬. ַ Schmitt 2011, 331; Szemerényi 1980, 7; Pinault 2008, 105–06. Tillish 2008, 6. See Melyukova 1989; Marčenko and Y.A. Vinogradov 1989; Rolle 2011, 114, map 4.1.

134

CHAPTER 4

accepted in Alaska, however, in many other places this term is considered pejorative, since it was for many years believed to mean ‘eaters of raw meat’ (although today linguists argue that it probably means ‘to net snowshoes’). For that reason, the term Inuit (which means ‘people’) is more preferable in Canada. However, this term is also problematic, because it does not refer to all ethnic groups such as the Yupik of Alaska and Siberia.82 Therefore, Eskimo still remains the most acceptable term for the people living in the northern circumpolar region, since this term is practical and universal; it is even used with regard to prehistoric hunter-gatherer societies in North America.83 The first time that the Greeks came into regular contact with the Scythians can be traced to the 7th century BC, when the first Greek settlements were established on the northern Black Sea shores. However, evidence associating nomadic people with the Scythians first appeared much earlier in the epic cycle, as it is visible in the passage from Homer’s Illiad (13. 5; cf. Strabo 7. 3. 7). Since that time, nomads (particularly the Scythians) were constantly present in Greek tradition and many ideas were developed regarding these people. Since the time of Homer, nomads appear to be associated with the people who drink mare’s milk and live in the North (Homer Iliad 13. 1–9): Now Zeus, when he had brought the Trojans and Hector to the ships, left the combatants there to have toil and woe unceasingly, but himself turned away his bright eyes, and looked afar, upon the land of the Thracian horsemen, and of the Mysians that fight in close combat, and of the lordly Hippemolgi that drink the milk of mares, and of the Abii, the most righteous of men. To Troy he no longer in any wise turned his bright eyes, for he deemed not in his heart that any of the immortals would draw nigh to aid either Trojans or Danaans.84

However, it is not certain if this passage indeed indicates an idealisation of nomads, as claimed by Ephorus in the passage quoted above (Strabo 7. 3. 9). As argued by Ivantchik, it is possible that there are two different peoples mentioned in the text and they are described by three hapax legomena. The first two refer to the Hippemolgi Glactophagi, which means ‘those who drink mare’s milk’; the third hapax refers to the Abii who are described as ‘most just of men’.85 Unlike hippemolgoi and glaktophagoi, the meaning of the word abioi proved problematic even in Antiquity, which is visible in commentaries to Homer’s poem.86 One of the possible interpretations suggested the meaning ‘those who 82

Kaplan 2002. See Snow 1996. 84 Homer. The Iliad with an English Translation by A.T. Murray, Ph.D. in two volumes (Cambridge, MA/London 1924). 85 Ivantchik 1999b; 2005a, 19–22. 86 Ivantchik 1999b, 32–36; 2005a, 20. 83

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

135

live in poverty/without livelihood’ which became one of the topoi concerning the Scythians and other nomadic people, although it may not have initially referred to the nomads, but to a different group of people called Abii. However, it is still possible to assume that the idealisation of the Scythians occurred before Ephorus’ time, since the idea of noble nomads may have gradually been generated through an association of the Hippemolgi87 with legendary peoples such as the Ethiopians, who according to Homer, lived happily at the margins of the world (Homer Iliad 1. 423, 23. 205; Odyssey 1. 22–23, 4. 84). Such an idealised image of nomadic populations may have been one of the elements of the ‘Scythian repertoire’ that was further explored by Ephorus. It is visible in the Catalogue of Women where the Scythians-Hippemolgi are mentioned together with other legendary people who inhabited the boundaries of the world, such as Ethiopians, Libyans, Hyperboreans and Pygmies.88 Furthermore, the passage from Aeschylus that mentions the Abii clearly shows that they were described in the same manner as the Golden Age people who did not have to work.89 The aforementioned passage from Strabo in turn indicates that the Abii and their epithet ‘most just’ were gradually associated with the Scythians in the same way as the Hippemolgi.90 One of the most important sources of information about the Scythians and their customs is Herodotus’ famous Scythian logos, which had a great impact on later literature and Greek perception of the Scythian culture. The Herodotean excursus on the Scythians has thoroughly been examined by both Eastern and Western scholars.91 Resulting from this, a number of publications have addressed the issue regarding the accuracy of Herodotus’ accounts of Scythia. However, it has been proven many times that the Scythian logos is not a purely literary creation but that it contains factual information that corresponds with the archaeological and ethnographical material.92 Herodotus’ work was also used as a source by the prominent Russian scholar Raevskii in his attempted reconstruction of Scythian mythology and religion.93 These studies show that the understanding of the Scythian logos should go beyond the bipolar structuralist analysis, a view that was popularised especially by Hartog, and one which

87

Who were already identified with the Scythians by Hesiod: see Strabo 7. 3. 9. Fr. 150–151 Merkelbach-West; see Ivantchik 2005a, 26–29. 89 Fr. 196 Nauck. For an explanation of the form Gabii that appears in the passage, see Ivantchik 2005a, 32. 90 Strabo 7. 3. 9; cf. Aeshylus’ epithet of the Scythians as ‘well-ordered’ (fr. 198 Nauck: hippakes broteres eunomoi Skuthai); cf. Strabo 7. 3. 7; see Lovejoy and Boas 1997, 316. 91 Neikhardt and Shishova 1982; Dovatur et al. 1982; Skzhinskaya 1989; 2001; Kothe 1969. 92 See, for example, Ivantchik 1999a; 1999c; 2001a; 2001c; 2011; Rolle 2011. 93 Raevskii 1977; 1985; 2006; see also Bessonova 1983. 88

136

CHAPTER 4

is still followed today by some Western scholars.94 According to this view, the Scythians are represented by Herodotus in terms of their ‘otherness’, as a mirror image of the Greeks themselves.95 Such a structuralist approach has also been applied by B. Shaw who argues that the nomad was perceived by the Greeks as the ultimate barbarian, opposed to the ‘civilised’ sedentary agriculturalist. According to Shaw, this universal ‘ideology of the pastoral nomad’ shares a negative stereotypical picture of the barbaric and uncivilised nomad who eats flesh meat and drinks milk in the same manner as the Homeric pastoral Cyclops who are described as savage and indolent at the same time, similarly to ‘lazy natives’ in a modern colonial context.96 However, such a one-sided picture of the nomad clearly does not exist in Greek tradition, which is visible in the aforementioned passages from the literary sources. Moreover, neither the Scythian diet nor their austerity could be perceived as pejorative by the Greeks. As Braund has demonstrated, the consumption of hippake (a kind of cheese) that was associated with the Scythians seems to have been perceived as a practical utility and evidence of a simplistic lifestyle, which was a feature of Scythian eunomia.97 Scythian austerity in turn seems to have been perceived as a natural consequence of living in harmony with the environment according to their own nomadic set of values. In that sense, the Scythians may have been admired in the same way as the Spartans who had a similar reputation for austerity and a simplistic diet.98 Notably, the Scythians were often described as a people who lived on oxdrawn chariots.99 According to the description provided by Ps.-Hippocrates, the wagons were covered with felt as protection against the rain and snow and they were drawn by oxen. He also pointed out that the wagons were used by the Scythian women whereas the men rode on horseback (AWP 18). This ‘mobile home nomadism’, as R. Rolle refers to it, was typical of other peoples living in the steppe, such as the Sarmatians, Huns, Khazars, Petchenegae, Polovci, Mongolians and Tatars (whose wagons are recorded in the 18th-century report of the German traveller, Peter Simon Pallas).100 It is possible that the Scythians were able to transport their homes without dismantling them by placing them 94

See, for example, Schubert 2010. Hartog 1988. 96 Shaw 1982–83. For this kind of structuralist approach, see especially Lévi-Strauss 1969, who explains a universal symbolic meaning of raw food, as one of the binary categories in everyday life, with regard to civilisation. For the idea of the ‘lazy native’, see Alatas 1977. 97 Braund 1999; see also S. West 1999b. 98 Braund 2004a. 99 Aeschylus P.B. 707–711; Ps.-Hippocrates AWP 18; Pindar fr. 105ab Snell-Maehler. See Skinner 2012, 70–71. 100 Rolle 2011, 122, fig. 4.9. 95

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

137

on large wagons in a similar way as modern yurts, which enabled greater mobility and allowed them to travel with all of their properties. As Rolle notes, when a large number of such wagons and tents were concentrated in one place, a foreign visitor may have had the impression that he was looking at a city, as it has been described in eyewitness reports from Mediaeval times.101 It is important to note that although nomadism seems to be the most characteristic feature of the Scythian culture that was observed by the Greeks, it appears that the Greeks were well aware that apart from typically nomadic populations, there were groups of Scythians who had a settled lifestyle and were engaged in agriculture, which is mentioned by Herodotus. Worth mentioning is a passage from Herodotus’ work which is often wrongly interpreted and arrives at the conclusion that the Scythians did not have permanent settlement structures; the Scythian king Idanthyrsos says to Darius that they ‘do not have any cities’; however, just after that sentence he adds: ‘that are worth fighting for’.102 The archaeological material indicates that throughout Scythian history, groups of settled populations existed alongside groups who had a more nomadic way of life, which is visible due to the numerous settlements that have been found in the forest steppe of the Ukraine (Fig. 22). There are known Scythian fortified settlements such as the Kamenskoe gorodishche on the left bank of the Dnieper, which had an area of 12 km2 and was founded in the 5th century BC.103 There are also large Scythian fortified settlements (gorodishche) known from the Archaic period, for example the Nemirovskoe and Belskoe settlements that date to the first half of the 7th century BC. The Belsk settlement is particularly interesting due to its enormous size and its system of fortification. This city-like settlement is situated on a plateau near the southern boundary of the geographical woodland steppe zone, and it covers an area of about 4000 ha. The ramparts were made of wood and earth and they stretch for more than 34 km enclosing the plateau in the form of an irregular triangle. Also, two separate fortifications that are enclosed by their own ramparts lay to the west and east of the site and both controlled wide river valleys.104 Soviet archaeologists who were investigating the site in the 1970s and 1980s came to the conclusion, which was put forward by B.A. Shramko, that the Belsk settlement may have been the large city that was called Gelonus by Herodotus.105 According to Herodotus, the city was surrounded by wooden walls and it lay in the territory of the Boudini and was inhabited by the Geloni who were a 101 102 103 104 105

Rolle 2011, 123. Rolle 2011; Herodotus 4. 126–127. Alekseev 2003, 214, 285; Rolle 1989, 119–22. Shramko 1975; 1987; Rolle et al. 1991; Rolle 1989, 119; 2011. Shramko 1975; 1987; see also Suprunenko 1996; Blavatskaya 1986.

138

CHAPTER 4

Fig. 22. Scythian settlements in the forest steppe zone (after Melyukova 1989, 323): 1, 14, 17 – Pastyrskoe; 2 – Mostishche; 3, 10, 16, 18, 18a, 20, 20a – Belskoe; 4 – Nemirovskoe; 5, 9, 12, 19 – Basovskoe; 6 – settlement near the village of Gorodishche; 7 – Matroninskoe; 8, 11 – Maritskoe; 13 – Voloshinskoe I; 15 – Dolinyany; 21, 21a – Lyubotinskoe.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

139

people of mixed Greek and Boudini who spoke a Graeco-Scythian language (Herodotus 4. 108). Although it is not possible to confirm that the Belsk settlement was indeed the Herodotean Gelonus, it proves that such settlements existed at the time of Herodotus. The Belskoe gorodishche is considered to be an important centre for Scythian craft, trade and other commercial activities. Archaeological material indicates that Greek imports such as pottery was present in this settlement as early as the 7th century BC. An investigation carried out at the kurgan necropolis at Belsk has revealed a large number of luxurious Greek imports, which may indicate that the settlement may have been a residence of the nomadic nobility. The area of the settlement consists of various types of dwellings, which includes buildings that were built above ground and constructions that were built underground in pits. Besides that, the large inner areas surrounded by the rampart are situated within the fortress walls. This area was first assumed to be used merely as a protected pasturage and for farming pens, but further investigations have revealed that these areas were also inhabited, perhaps by the tribes who led a nomadic life for certain periods of the year. They may have settled within the fortress walls and used wagons, yurts or tents as mobile houses during the winter months and then left the settlement at the time when the natural conditions for grazing were better.106 Greek perception of the Scythians was based not only on direct contact with the steppe nomads. In the late 6th and 5th centuries BC the Scythians appeared on Attic vases and they were often portrayed as archers in battle scenes or standing with hoplites (Fig. 23).107 There are also instances in which the Scythians appear in sculpture, an example of which is the Scythian archer on the west pediment of the Temple of Aphaia on Aegina dated to ca. 490 BC.108 The appearance of these foreigners in Attic painting has variously been interpreted by scholars who often point out contemporary events, such as the presence of Scythian archers/servants amongst the Athenian army.109 However, these events refer to the end of the 6th century BC and thus do not explain the first occurrence of three Scythian archers in the scene of the Calydonian boar hunt depicted on the François Vase dated to ca. 570 BC (Fig. 24).110 It is also significant that up to the middle of the 6th century BC Scythian archers are always depicted in the scenes of the Calydonian boar hunt together with Atalanta whose iconography is closely interrelated with the Scythians.111 The Scythians 106 107 108 109 110 111

Rolle 1989, 117–19; 2011, 124–28. Vos 1963; Barringer 2004; Ivantchik 2005c. Barringer 2004, 13; Skinner 2012, 76–77. For an overview, see Barringer 2004; Bäbler 2005a, 115–16. Barringer 2004; Ivantchik 2005c, 106–10. Barringer 2004, 14.

140

CHAPTER 4

Fig. 23. Greek red-figure amphora, Munich. Inv. no. 2308. Courtesy of Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München (photograph by Renate Kühling).

are characterised in the scene by their pointed caps that were an important feature of their iconography in the early 6th century BC. In the next decades Scythian attire also started to include a long sleeved top, trousers and typical Scythian weapons such as the bow and arrow with a large quiver called a gorytos.112 Due to the fact that Amazon and Persian warriors are represented in exactly the same way, the interpretation of these attributes as ethnically Scythian does not appear obvious.113 It is also visible that in the 5th century BC 112 113

Gleba 2008; Barringer 2004, 115; Vos 1963, 40–51. Skinner 2012, 72–73; see also Shapiro 1983.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

141

Fig. 24. François Vase, Attic black-figure volute krater, ca. 570 BC. Inv. no. 4209. Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Firenze. Courtesy of Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali, Polo Museale della Toscana, Florence.

Scythian attire is sometimes mixed with that of the Thracians and even Athenian hoplites.114 It is suggested that the representations of Scythian archers on Attic vases may have become a standard representation of an archer-hero in general, although this did not necessary indicate the hero’s ethnicity.115 This appears to be the case in such instances in which a Greek hero known from epic tradition is represented wearing Scythian attire, Paris and Parthenopaeus being examples of this.116 A structuralist approach has also been applied to this subject, which is visible for example in F. Lissarrague’s works in which he interprets the appearance of the Scythians in Attic battle scenes as a depiction of outsiders who are dressed and behave in opposition to Greek hoplites.117 The popularity of the Scythians (or ‘Scythianised’ figures) in Attic art that continued throughout the first half of the 5th century BC is often explained by the physical presence of the Scythians in Athens. It is visible in both written and archaeological sources that Scythians were present in Classical Athens as a police force that consisted of Scythian public slaves. It is not certain when 114 115 116 117

Barringer 2004, 15; Ivantchik 2005c, 106–07. Ivantchik 2005c. Ivantchik 2005c, 102. Lissarrague 1990, 235; see also Lissarrague 2002.

142

CHAPTER 4

exactly the Scythian police force was installed in the city, however, by the time of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata and Thesmophoriazusae (both comedies were staged in 411 BC) a Scythian policeman appears to have become an easily recognisable comic figure.118 Braund even suggests that due to the fact that the Scythian policemen and the Scythians in general were commonly known as good archers, they were often called toxotai (i.e. archers), which was commonly understood as meaning ‘Scythian archers’. Thus, by calling an Athenian toxotes was to call him a Scythian, although Greek archers are also attested in literary sources.119 All these examples are likely to demonstrate how popular the depictions of Scythians were in Athenian everyday life and how recognisable the Scythians were in Greek society. It has been claimed that the Scythian police force ceased to exist in Athens by the end of the 5th century BC, since Scythian archers almost disappear from Attic vases.120 However, it has been demonstrated by B. Bäbler that Scythian slaves and mercenaries were still present in Athens throughout the 5th and 4th centuries BC. Apart from the scarce literary sources, there is also archaeological material from the cemetery in the Kerameikos that confirms a Scythian presence in the city.121 It should also be taken into consideration that iconographical conventions in Greek art were flexible; therefore the appearance of foreigners on vases need not be based solely on historical reality, but can also include artistic canons. Furthermore, it is extremely difficult to differentiate between artistic conventions and realistic representations.122 Apart from archery scenes, the Scythians were also depicted in Greek tradition as people who had a strong tendency for drunkenness, which was combined with the habit of drinking unadulterated wine. From a Greek point of view, this practice was radically opposed to their own custom and was directly associated with immoderate drinking. This in turn was considered to be inappropriate and ‘uncivilised’. One of the earliest sources for such a stereotype is provided by the Greek poet Anacreon, who suggests giving up the Scythian fashion of drinking unmixed wine and encourages drinking wine that was diluted to the ratio of 1 to 2: Boy, bring me A cup, to drink at a gulp; Mix ten measures of water and five of wine, So that once again and peacefully 118 119 120 121 122

See Bäbler 2005a, 116; E. Hall 1989a; see also Bäbler 1998, 163–74; Braund 1997b. Braund 1997b, 49. Vos 1963, 61, 85. Bäbler 1998, 174–83; 2005, 117–20; see also Gleba 2008, 17. Miller 1991, 63; Bäbler 2005a, 117–18; Gleba 2008, 17.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

143

I may honour Dionysus. Let’s not fall Into riot and disorder With our wine, like the Scythians, But let us drink in moderation Listening to the lovely hymns.123

An illustration of the Scythian tendency for heavy drinking can be found in Aristophanes’ comedy Lysistrata (426–427). In the scene where the Scythian policemen appear, one of them is reprimanded by his leader for gazing in search of a tavern. This should be understood as an allusion to the Scythian fondness for drinking.124 As it can be assumed, this Scythian reputation was well known to the Athenian audience at the time of Aristophanes, since the author took it for granted that the scene with the Scythian policemen would raise a laugh. This image of the drunken Scythian has been connected by scholars with depictions on Attic sympotic vessels dated to the period between 510 and 450 BC where some drinkers appear to be wearing a characteristic Scythian cap called a kidaris (Fig. 25).125 According to one plausible explanation, such representations of Scythianised figures were used as an example of how the Greeks should not behave during the symposium; that is they should not act as stereotypical barbarians who drink neat wine.126 R. Osborne argues that this kind of image played an important role in ‘projecting identities’ during the symposium. In this particular case, the image of the drinker with a Scythian cap represents a bad symposiast, someone who projects a Scythian identity and acts in a barbarian manner. In that sense, the drinkers who viewed such images on vessels were aware of how they would be seen by other symposiasts if they did not keep to the urbane rules of the symposium; they would be projecting a Scythian identity, an identity of a savage barbarian with no manners.127 Another interpretation for the appearance of Scythian pointed hats on sympotic vessels has been put forward by Miller who suggests that the hats were perceived as being generally Oriental rather than specifically Scythian and were used as status markers, namely they were worn by the Athenian elite who adopted luxurious Eastern items.128 However, it appears significant that the Scythian fondness for drinking seems to have been a popular ethnic stereotype. 123

Anacreon 76, preserved in Athenaeus 11. 427a; transl. Lissarrague 1990, 91. E. Hall 1989a, 46 with n. 45. 125 For a full catalogue of depictions, see Miller 1991. 126 Lissarrague 1987, 111; 1990, 90–91. 127 Osborne 2007, 38. 128 Miller 1991; B. Cohen 2001, 244–45; 2011, 476. See Skinner 2012, 74 with n. 75 for a criticism. 124

144

CHAPTER 4

Fig. 25. Symposiast wearing a Scythian cap (on the left). Attic red-figure cup, ca. 480 BC. Inv. no. 3922. Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Firenze. Courtesy of Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali, Polo Museale della Toscana, Florence.

There are even Greek words that were created to describe the practice of drinking in a Scythian fashion, which is likely to demonstrate that such a conventional notion of the Scythians existed as part of a wider Scythian imaginaire. The word skuthizein means to drink or behave like a Scythian, which can mean to drink immoderately.129 Another word is episkuthizein, which means to pour out drink in a Scythian fashion, that is with unmixed wine; this is attested by Herodotus who mentions that according to the Spartans, Cleomenes went mad due to his habit of drinking undiluted wine which he acquired from the Scythian embassy that visited the city. As Herodotus explains, if the Spartans want to drink stronger wine, they ask for a Scythian drink (Herodotus 6. 84; see also Athenaeus 11. 427c). As it can be seen, such an image of wine-drinking Scythians was a well-known topos, which also appears later on in written sources (see Plato Laws 1. 637 d, e; Aristotle Problems 3. 7 = 872a3). 129

Athenaeus 11. 499; see Lissarrague 2002, 111.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

145

The same cliché was not limited to the Scythians as it was also extended to the rest of the northern barbarians, such as the Celts (see Diodorus Siculus 5. 26. 3) and Germanic peoples. Posidonius (preserved in Athenaeus 4. 153e) mentions that the Germanic peoples drink milk and unmixed wine and eat roasted meat, which is a striking resemblance to the diet ascribed to nomadic people. In that sense, the mention of the diet of the Germanic peoples is likely to have been made intentionally by the author who consciously uses the wellknown literary motif that provides a desirable ethnographic characteristic concerning barbarians who inhabit remote lands far from civilisation. The same conscious use of the stereotype of the northern barbarians drinking unadulterated wine (Lat. merum) in combination with a simple diet is noticeable in Tacitus’ Germania where the historian informs us of a wine trade among the Germanic peoples and he adds that their food consists of wildfruit, fresh game and curdled milk, and that they are immoderate at drinking (Tacitus Germ. 23). When analysing the iconography of the Scythians, it is worth noting that the pointed cap that is considered to be one of the main iconographic indicators of ‘Scythianness’ in Greek vase painting does not occur frequently on GraecoScythian metalwork from the North Pontic region (see Figs. 12–16). Although similar hats are depicted on the golden vessel from the Kul-Oba Kurgan, they do not seem to follow the same iconographic convention, since they are clearly not as tall and elaborate as those that appear on Attic vases (Figs. 15 and 16).130 Similarly, the type of Scythian boots depicted on Graeco-Scythian metal vessels with their laces under the ankle or around the foot does not correspond with Greek vase painting where Scythian figures are virtually always depicted barefoot. What is striking is the fact that the characteristic pointed hat in Greek representations has a close analogy with Persian depictions of the Scythians, which is associated with the group of Scythians/Sacae who were called Saka tigraxauda (the pointed-hat Sacae) in Achaemenid imperial inscriptions (Fig. 26).131 An important source of information concerning Scythian costume are Scythian stone sculptures that have been found in the North Pontic region and the North Caucasus and date to the period between 7th and 4th centuries BC. The sculptures mostly represent male warriors equipped with weapons and often wearing kaftans or jackets. It is assumed that these anthropomorphic steles were carved by Scythian craftsmen and were used to mark the kurgans that belonged to wealthy individuals. The analysis of the weapons depicted on the steles has shown that there are parallels in the archaeological 130 131

Gleba 2008, 22. See Miller 1991, 61–62; Meyer 2013, 210; Gleba 2008, 17–18.

146

CHAPTER 4

Fig. 26. Scythian delegation. Apadana reliefs. Persepolis, Iran. Inv. no. P. 57061/N. 15264 (ps-74). Courtesy of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago.

material, which indicates that the representations might be more realistic than it was previously assumed (Fig. 27).132 In this case, it is again clear that Greek vase painting did not intend to depict the Scythians with factual accuracy. Instead, Greek representations of the Scythians or Scythianised figures were based on iconographic conventions whose sources are to be found in the East (at least in the case of the pointed cap) rather than in the North Pontic region. What is more likely is the fact that iconographic indicators of ‘Scythianness’ were used for different purposes depending on the context of a representation. In certain contexts, elements of Scythian attire may indeed have been used to illustrate a Scythian (real or imagined). In others, they may have been intended to evoke desirable associations, for example with the steppe lifestyle or with a particular set of values attributed to them, or with common ethnic stereotypes such as Scythian drunkenness.133 132 133

Olkhovskii 2004; Gleba 2008, 18–20; see also Melyukova 1989, 345. See Skinner 2012, 68–78.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

147

Fig. 27. Scythian stone steles (adapted from Olkhovskii 2004, 352, fig. 3): 1. Olkhovchik; 2. Erdelevka; 3. Ternovka.

As can be seen, the Scythian repertoire in Greek tradition was wide and often included contradictory notions of nomadic peoples.134 Therefore, any attempt to pigeon-hole their characteristics will fail, since neither the idealisation of the Scythians135 nor their image as savage barbarians136 exhausts the large Scythian repertoire. In the case of Greek vase painting, it is visible that the Scythian motif long preceded the 5th-century BC ’invention’ of the barbarian Other and therefore, it does not appear convincing to interpret every occurrence of Scythian 134 135 136

See Campbell 2006, 92–105. The so-called Scythian mirage: see Lévy 1981. Shaw 1982–83.

148

CHAPTER 4

figures in Greek art in a structuralist manner, that is in terms of a bipolar and passive relationship between the Greek us and the Scythian them.137 Instead, it seems more adequate to interpret Greek representations of the Scythian in a wider social and historical context. Worth examining is Ephorus’ idealisation of the Scythians that appears to be based on a wider intellectual concept related to the school of Isocrates in which Ephorus received his education. The existence of an early idealisation of the Scythians in the Archaic and Classical periods has been questioned by scholars.138 However, it is clear that Ephorus refers to previous ideas about the Scythians that had a strong tendency for idealisation, such as the tradition of the Scythian philosopher Anacharsis (Strabo 7. 3. 9 = FGrHist 70 F 42): Then Ephorus reasons out the cause as follows: since they are frugal in their ways of living and not money-getters, they not only are orderly towards one another, because they have all things in common, their wives, children, the whole of their kin and everything, but also remain invincible and unconquered by outsiders, because they have nothing to be enslaved for. And he cites Choerilus also, who, in his ‘The Crossing of the Pontoon-Bridge’ which was constructed by Dareius, says, ‘the sheep-tending Sacae, of Scythian stock; but they used to live in wheat-producing Asia; however, they were colonists from the Nomads, law-abiding people’. And when he calls Anacharsis ‘wise’, Ephorus says that he belongs to this race, and that he was considered also one of Seven Wise Men because of his perfect selfcontrol and good sense.139

Herodotus’ influence on Ephorus is clearly visible, particularly in the notion of the Scythians as invincible. This has already been examined by Takhtadzhyan who has demonstrated that Ephorus re-interpreted the Herodotean passage in which the Scythians are described as invincible. Herodotus explains that this was due to their mobility resulting from their nomadic lifestyle which did not allow for military confrontation with the enemy.140 It seems that such a notion of the Scythians as invincible became a well-known topos, since it is mentioned in the Diophantos decree (IOSPE I2 352, 8–9).141 137

See Skinner 2012, 72–73. Ivantchik 2005a; cf. Kindstrand 1981, 23–24, who seems to question the existence of intentional idealisation of the Scythians as real people prior to Ephorus, i.e. the Scythians were perceived as mythical by Homer and thus they were idealised by him. 139 The Geography of Strabo. With an English Translation by H. L. Jones, 8 vols. (Cambridge, MA/London 1924). 140 Takhtadzhyan 1992; Herodotus 4. 46. 141 Τοὺς ἀνυποστάτους δοκοῦντας εἶμεν Σκύθας τρεψάμενος πρῶτον ἀπ’ αὐ[τῶ]ν ἐπόησε βασιλέα Μιθραδάταν Εὐπάτορα τρόπαιον ἀναστᾶσαι (‘[Diophantos] turned the Scythians to flight, those who were claimed to be invincible, and made the king Mithridates Eupator the first to win victory over them’). See Takhtadzhyan 1992, 43; see also Tachtadžjan 2003 for the influence of Plato on Ephorus. 138

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

149

Fig. 28. Silver gilded vessel with a depiction of a lion hunt. Solokha Kurgan. Early 4th century BC. Inv. no. Dn.1913-1/40. The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Leonard Kheifets, Alexander Koksharov, Konstantin Sinyavsky and Vladimir Terebenin).

The image of Scythia created by Ephorus had a great impact on ancient literature, which can be seen in Lucian’s Scythian dialogues and in one of the fictional writings of Anacharsis that praises Scythian common ownership. One of the passages has been compared by Moreno with the fantastical hunting scene depicted on the silver cup from the Solokha Kurgan; the scene is interpreted in terms of utopian harmony between the Scythians and the animal world (Fig. 28).142 It is striking that Theopompus, another pupil of Isocrates, seems to have created a similar image of the Scythians (FGrHist 115 F 45). It has also been noticed by Moreno that Ephorus’ poetic description of the Scythians corresponds with representations on 4th-century BC Graeco-Scythian 142 Anacharsidis Epistolae 9: ‘We hold all our land in common. We take whatever it gives us willingly, and let go whatever it hides. We save our cattle from savage beasts, and receive milk and cheese in return’. Transl. Moreno 2007b, 197–99. See also Rostovtzeff 1931, 87. The cup is also discussed by Meyer in terms of elite collaboration expressed in the hunting scene: Meyer 2013, 231–33.

150

CHAPTER 4

artefacts from the North Pontic region in which the Scythians and their social life are depicted in the same idealised manner, which had already been noticed by Rostovtzeff.143 This is likely to suggest that the ideas behind both the North Pontic iconography and the idealised image of Scythia were developed in the 4th-century BC Athenian intellectual circle of Isocrates. According to Moreno, such a link between the Bosporan artefacts and Isocratean Athens provided an intellectual background for grain trade between the Bosporan elite and the Athenian aristocracy. Following this approach, idealised scenes of Scythian social life that were influenced by the Athenian rhetoric of the Isocratean school were likely to display valuable qualities of trading partners and reliable xenoi, that is guest-friends.144 The same image of idealised Scythian friendship occurs in Lucian’s Toxaris which appears to be a literary creation, although attempts to prove the historicity of the stories told in the dialogue have been made by scholars.145 Even the depiction of Toxaris himself seems to be a literary ‘mixture’ of Scythian and Taurian motifs, since Lucian refers to the myth of Orestes and Pylades and alludes to the Taurian custom of human sacrifice which is known from Euripides’ Iphigenia in Tauris.146 Even though Moreno’s interpretation can be questioned due to its Athenocentric point of view, it should not be excluded that the way in which the Scythians were represented by the Greeks may have reflected the actual relationship of the northern Black Sea region with the rest of the Greek world. The aforementioned passage from the Diophantos decree clearly indicates that North Pontic society was aware of clichés concerning the Scythians, which demonstrates that these clichés could creatively been used in order to create a desirable effect on the reader, since they were clearly recognisable in Greek tradition. In the case of Ephorus, his vision of Scythia may have been used as an effective ‘political campaign’, since this was the time when Athens and the Bosporus established a close cultural and economic relationship. The perception of the Black Sea region during the Roman period also seems to have been influenced by the political situation in the Graeco-Roman world. The North Pontic became an Eastern part of the Roman empire which had a great impact on the perception of this region in terms of its cultural identity. It is also significant that despite the Roman presence on the northern Black Sea coast and the transformation of the Bosporan kingdom into a client kingdom in 42 BC, the Black Sea region appears to have remained out of the main focus 143

Rostovtzeff 1931, 80–82. Moreno 2007b, 192–206. For discussion, see Meyer 2013, 166–67, 222. 145 Distant analogies between Lucian’s dialogue and Herodotus’ Scythian logos suggested by Anderson do not appear convincing: Anderson 1976, 12–33. 146 For a short analysis of Lucian’s Scytha and Anacharsis, see also Kindstrand 1981, 29–30. 144

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

151

of Roman imperialism.147 This may be the reason that, as argued by Braund, at this time the Black Sea appears to have been perceived as geographically and culturally remote from ‘Greece proper’ and the centre of Hellenism which, it should be pointed out, was in vogue especially during the Early Empire.148 It is particularly visible in Roman writings that the idea of the Black Sea as the Pontos Axenos (i.e. Inhospitable Sea) was explored by authors in order to demonstrate cultural marginality of the North Pontic region. Worth mentioning is a passage from Book 3 of Virgil’s Georgics (completed in 29 BC) in which Scythia is depicted in a very poetic manner which alludes to previous writings, such as Herodotus’ Scythian logos and Ps.-Hippocrates’ Airs Waters Places, and also to the conventional image of the northern edge of the world:149 (…) earth lies featureless in mounded snow and deep fields of ice that rise to seven fathoms, under eternal winter and eternal breath of icy northwest winds. Not ever does the sun pierce that pallid gloom (…). Here they [i.e. the men] pass the night in games, and with beer and bitter meaths joyously counterfeit draughts of the vine. Such is the wild race of men that lies under the seven stars of the utmost North (…).150

In the next century the poet Ovid who lived in exile in Tomis (AD 8–17/18) followed a similar literary convention, according to which the western Black Sea shore was represented as a real locus horribilis: wintery and covered by snow, and even more hostile and barbarised than Virgil’s Scythia (Trist. 3. 10).151 As Bäbler points out, the cliché of cold Scythia and Pontus became a well-established literary topos. This occurred to such an extent that even factual information, for example evidence derived from the Roman garrisons that were established in the Pontic region, did not change the way in which the North Pontic region was perceived.152 This, as Bäbler argues, demonstrates a decline of both ethnography and geography as a science in favour of other more useful disciplines that aided the administration of the empire, such as cartography. An example of this is Arrian’s 2nd-century AD account of the Black Sea shore which is a combination of eyewitness accounts and a large amount of traditional literary material gathered from older sources and previous periploi.153 It is also visible that literary topoi concerning the ‘barbarians’ inhabiting the periphery of the world became more fixed than in previous writings.154 At this 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154

See Bekker-Nielsen 2006. Braund 1997a, 121–23. Bäbler 2005b, 50–51. The Georgics of Virgil. Translated by J.W. MacKail (New York 1934). Bäbler 2005b, 51–52. For an analysis of Ovid’s exile poetry, see Podosinov 1987. Bäbler 2005b, 52. Podossinov 2009, 148. Bäbler 2005b, 52–53.

152

CHAPTER 4

time, as Isaac argues, ethnic stereotypes may have been intentionally used as a tool in Roman imperialistic policy, for example to justify Roman conquest.155 It appears particularly important to examine how the North Pontic region during the Roman period is described by a Greek from outside the Black Sea milieu who was well aware of the large Scythian repertoire in Greek tradition. Such an eyewitness report is provided by Dio Chrysostom’s account of Olbia, included in Oratio 36 which is commonly called Borystheniticus. It is often pointed out by scholars that although the author recounts information from his own personal journey,156 it is clear that his account is strongly influenced by previous works, such as Herodotus’ Histories and Plato’s Phaedo that are indicated as sources of Dio’s inspiration, particularly with regard to topography and narrative.157 The problems concerned with correlating the literary and archaeological evidence have opened an intense debate on the historicity of Dio’s Oratio 36. While some scholars prefer to interpret archaeological material according to Dio’s information,158 others point out that it is noticeable in his work that Dio witnessed at Olbia what he wanted (and expected) to see in accordance with the previous written tradition of the city.159 It seems that Dio does not describe Olbia as a city contemporary with his times, but depicts a place which is almost frozen in time. According to Dio, Olbia (that is called Borysthenes) was in a permanent state of war with the neighbouring barbarians who are anachronistically identified either as Scythians or Sauromatians.160 Olbia is depicted as culturally and geographically isolated, territorially limited and still partly destroyed due to the siege of the Getae which took place 150 years earlier. Dio also mentions that the citizens no longer spoke proper Greek as a result of living among barbarians, but they still honoured Achilles and Homer whose Iliad they know by heart. Moreover, they had long hair and beards styled in a Homeric manner and wore Scythian clothing. Such an image of the city depicted by Dio has often been wrongly interpreted, especially by Russian and Ukrainian scholars, as proof of a strong cultural ‘barbarisation’ of Olbia during the Roman period.161 However, as it has been pointed out many times in literature, Dio does not mention any barbarians among the citizens; it is more likely that Dio’s intention was to depict a sort of utopian society living in isolation at the peripheries of Hellenism, a unified community that resists 155 Isaac 2004. For a similar conclusion with regard to a conservative tradition of geographical writing in Strabo’s Geography and its importance for Roman imperialism, see Braund 2005a. 156 He most probably visited Olbia during the summer of AD 97; C. Jones 1978, 51. 157 Moles 1995, 184. 158 For example Rolle 1991, 205. 159 C. Jones 1978; Russell 1992, 19–23, 211–47; Bäbler 2002. 160 See Braund 1997a, 127. 161 For an overview and discussion, see Podossinov 2009.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

153

outside pressure and manifests its Greek identity through attachment to old traditions.162 In that sense, it was a rhetorical strategy of Dio who wrote his Oratio for his fellow citizens at Prusa in order to provide an example of a small but unified and strong society that is able to cope with its foes.163 Despite Dio’s rhetorical and philosophical influence on his writing, certain elements of his speech may have broadly corresponded with the real situation in the city of Olbia. As Podossinov notes, the nomadic clothing mentioned by Dio is attested on Greek funeral reliefs from the Bosporus and need not be considered as everyday dress; instead they should be associated with riding.164 Similarly, the corruption of the Greek language noticed by Dio is likely to be related with the dialectical character of Greek pronunciation, since there are no traces of corruption in the language used in Olbian inscriptions.165 Moreover, as discussed in Chapter 3.4, the increase of a Sarmatian component in the city’s community after the Getic siege of Olbia is visible in the local epigraphic material. Thus, it appears that Dio’s account of Olbia, although exaggerated and rhetorically influenced, can be seen as a depiction of a multicultural society that tried to maintain its identity by finding a middle ground between assimilation and their own old traditions.166 What is visible in Dio’s Oratio is his concern regarding Greek cultural integrity in the Roman empire, which he wishes to show in a sophisticated and rhetorically elaborated manner to the Prusans.167 In that sense, Dio’s Borysthenitai are depicted as those who succeeded in preserving their Hellenism, in such a culturally and geographically remote place as Olbia. In other words, they appear to have found a way to preserve a state of ‘minimum cultural coherence’, which allowed the city to maintain its cultural identity. 4. THE TAURIANS – GREEK REPRESENTATIONS AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL REALITY As mentioned in the previous chapter, apart from the Scythian repertoire, another literary tradition was established concerning the Greek perception of another North Pontic indigenous group, namely the Taurians who inhabited the mountainous regions of the Crimea (Fig. 29). Unlike the Scythians, Greek 162

C. Jones 1978; Bäbler 2002; see also Braund 1997a, 128. Bäbler 2002. For the strong influence of Stoic philosophy on Dio’s writing, see Moles 1995. For the Stoic idea of the continuous re-creation of the world, and other allusions to Stoic and Platonic philosophies, see Russell 1992, 211–47. For other inspirations of Dio, see Bekker-Nielsen and Madsen 2007. 164 Podossinov 2009, 151. 165 Podossinov 2009, 152; see also Braund 1997a, 135. 166 Bäbler 2002, 323. 167 Moles 1995. 163

154

CHAPTER 4

Fig. 29. Taurian sites in the Crimea (adapted from Khrapunov 2012, 65, fig. 18): 1. Koloski; 2. Urkusta; 3. Beloglinka; 4. Kholodnaya Ravine; 5. Karagach; 6. Ashlama-Dere; 7. Otar-Alan; 8. Cherkes-Kermen; 9. Uch-Bash; 10. Karan 2; 11. Mal-Muz; 12. Koshka; 13. Yalta sanctuary; 14. MAN cave; 15. Yeni-Sala 2; 16. Kizil-Koba; 17. Druzhnoye 1; 18. Shpil; 19. Druzhnoye 2; 20. Dzhapalakh; 21. Chuyuncha; 22. Ayvazovskoye; 23. Otvazhnoye; 24. Kapak-Tash.

perception of the Taurians appears to be more fixed and does not seem to have significantly developed over time in Greek literary tradition. The question that will be investigated is whether the Taurians that are known from the literary sources can be identified with the real indigenous population from the Crimea, who came into contact with the Greeks at the time Chersonesus was founded by settlers from Heraclea Pontica (together with a Delian expedition) in the late 6th/early 5th century BC. What is known about the Taurians comes from two sources. The first source is the ancient literary tradition that is centred upon the myth of Iphigenia in Tauris which has been discussed in the previous chapter. The second source of information is the archaeological material that has been amassed over many years through excavations carried out by Russian, Soviet and Ukrainian archaeologists in the area of the south Crimea from the 19th century onwards.168 In the first half of the 20th century the Taurians started to be 168 Kris 1955; 1961; Leskov 1965; Kutaisov 1987; Senatorov 1998; Kravchenko 2009; 2010a; 2010b, Kolotukhin 1996; Khrapunov and Vlasov 1995; 1998. For the history of Taurian archaeology and further literature, see Melyukova 1989; Bondarenko 2010.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

155

associated by archaeologists with the Kizil-Koba culture, the name of which derives from the first archaeological site near the cave of Kizil-Koba. Characteristic features of this culture include burials in stone cists,169 hand-made pottery with incised or combed ornamentation, stone and bone tools, and metal objects of a noticeably archaic character that have been found mostly in the mountainous areas of the Crimea.170 It can be noticed that from the outset the material concerning the archaeological investigation of Taurian sites has mainly been published in Russian and Ukrainian.171 This, as it seems, has resulted in a lack of academic interest in Taurian archaeology in Western scholarship due to the language barrier. It seems striking that despite greater focus being placed by Western scholars on literary sources regarding the Taurians, in particular their role in the Euripidean tragedy discussed above,172 archaeological sources concerning Taurian history remain rather unexploited by them.173 In order to add valuable data to the analysis of the perception of the Taurians in Greek tradition, a brief overview of Taurian archaeology will be presented below. The earliest settlements attributed to the Kizil-Koba culture appeared in the foothills of the Crimea (roughly from modern Sevastopol to Feodosia) and date to the 8th century BC. The spread of settlements is noticeable in the 6th century BC when the major phase of migration of these people reached the main ridge of the Crimean mountains and the south-west coast. The culture is generally distinguishable in archaeological terms in these regions up to the late 4th/ early 3rd century BC.174 The analysis of hand-made pottery and burial rites has demonstrated that the Kizil-Koba culture developed locally. The bearers of this archaeological culture appear to be descendants of the people who inhabited the area in the 1st millennium BC. This disproves previous theories, according to which the KizilKoba people were either the remains of the Cimmerians, who escaped from the Scythians in the mountainous regions of the Crimea, or migrants from the North Caucasus and Thrace.175 It is visible in their material culture that, unlike in the steppe zone, the people living in the mountainous Crimea tended to maintain archaic traditions with regard to the production of pottery and stone tools such as flints and axes.176 This in turn causes a major problem with the 169

See Kolotukhin 1996, 108. See Kolotukhin 1996, 115 and 149. 171 For a brief overview of Taurian archaeology in German and English respectively, see Leskov 1980; Khrapunov 2012, 15–24 and 63–88; Khrapunov 2018. 172 For example, E. Hall 1987; 2013; Oller Guzmán 2008. 173 A notable exception is Braund (2004b; 2007b; 2018). 174 Stolba 2014, 21; Khrapunov 2012, 24. 175 Khrapunov 2012, 17, 63; Kolotukhin 1996, 82. 176 Khrapunov 2012, 70. 170

156

CHAPTER 4

chronology of Kizil-Koba settlements which is therefore based mainly on preScythian and Scythian weapons and horse harness that were imported by the Kizil-Koba people who did not produce such objects themselves; perhaps they were exchanged for the Kizil-Koba pottery that occurs in Scythian burials. The chronological situation improves from the 4th century BC onwards when Greek pottery such as stamped amphorae started to appear at Kizil-Koba sites.177 There are several features of Kizil-Koba settlements that are worth mentioning. They were unfortified and functioned for short periods of time. Furthermore, traces of buildings are relatively rare in the archaeological record whereas household pits are numerous. This may indicate that the inhabitants of these settlements had a rather mobile lifestyle. They may have travelled from place to place with light portable dwellings which are not identifiable in the archaeological record.178 One of the most recognisable features of the Kizil-Koba culture is their funeral rites. The dead were inhumed in characteristic stone cists that were often encircled with rectangular fences (cromlechs) filled with stones. Collective graves are also typical of the Kizil-Koba culture. The dead were buried in a flexed position and were placed lying either on their side or back.179 It is assumed that multiple graves belonged to one family, and that individual members were buried in a single stone cist.180 Archaeological material from Kizil-Koba sites demonstrates that farming was an important feature of the Kizil-Koba culture. This is clearly visible at foothill settlements where the natural conditions for agriculture were much better than those in mountainous regions. As an example, during the excavation of the settlement at Uch-Bash, household pits have been found that were used for grain storage (palaeobotanical analysis indicates barley, bean, and pea). Tools that were commonly used in agriculture, such as quern-stones, sickle blades, and stone hoes have also been discovered. Furthermore, the large amount of domestic animal bones (particularly goats, sheep, and cattle) that have been found at certain sites (Uch-Bash, Inkerman and Neizatskoe) indicates that pastoralism also played a significant role in their way of living.181 The remains of hearths and Kizil-Koba pottery in numerous caves in the mountainous Crimea are interpreted as shelters for cattlemen who travelled to mountain pastures.182 177 Khrapunov 2012, 64–66, 73. For a current analysis of the chronology of the Kizil-Koba culture, see Kravchenko 2010a; 2010b. 178 Khrapunov 2012, 70. 179 Leskov 1965, 50–85; 1980, 43; Kolotukhin 1996, 28–34; Khrapunov 2012, 71; Bondarenko 2010, 18–21. 180 Bondarenko (2010, 12–13) provides an example of the cemetery at Urkusta I. 181 Leskov 1965, 169–70. 182 Leskov 1965, 167, 169–70; Khrapunov 2012, 71–72.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

157

The identification of the Kizil-Koba culture with the Taurians that were known from ancient written sources was already suggested at the beginning of the 20th century; however, this link has long been debated by scholars due to the fact that two kinds of settlement can be distinguished: foothill and mountainous, which have been interpreted by some scholars as indicators of two different ethnic groups. However, as I.N. Khrapunov points out, there are many ethnographic examples of ethnic groups that developed various types of economy. Thus, a type of economy does not necessary define an ethnos.183 Notably, V.A. Kolotukhin’s analysis of the archaeological material has particularly contributed to the generally accepted identification of the Kizil-Koba culture as both Taurian and autochthonous.184 The main reason behind the association of the Kizil-Koba culture with the Taurians is based on where these people were located by ancient authors and also through analysing epigraphic material, which roughly corresponds with the location of Kizil-Koba sites. According to Herodotus, the land of the Taurians begins with the city of Kerkinitis (in its earlier Ionian form Karkinitis, modern Eupatoria)185 and extends southwards to the Black Sea and eastwards to the Kerch Peninsula (Herodotus 4. 99). If we compare this description with a modern map of the Crimea, the dividing line of Tauric settlement should be drawn from Eupatoria to the East, Simferopol to the North, and Theodosia (modern Feodosia) to the West.186 This corresponds with later sources such as Strabo’s account, according to which Theodosia is the western border of the Taurians (Strabo 7. 4. 4). Similar information is provided by Pliny the Elder (who most probably derives this information from Herodotus’ work) when he says that Taurica begins with Kerkinitis and continues eastwards, and that the Taurians occupy the territory of the mountains (Pliny NH 4. 85).187 The most plausible scenario of Taurian history is that the Kizil-Koba culture developed through the consolidation of tribes inhabiting the Crimean foothills in the Late Bronze Age. They stayed in this area and practised pastoralism and farming until the 6th century BC when a part of the population migrated to the mountainous regions and the south-west coast of the Crimea where they developed a different economic system that was most probably based on transhumance. In the 4th century BC their contact with the Greeks is traceable in the archaeological record in which amphorae and Greek tableware start to appear, particularly at the settlements near Chersonesus as well as at Ajvazovskoe 183 184 185 186 187

Khrapunov 2012, 78–80. Kolotukhin 1996; see also Leskov 1965. For an analysis, see Stolba 2004b; 2014, 21–22. Leskov 1980, 40. For an analysis of the location of the Taurians, see Kolotukhin 1996, 71–81.

158

CHAPTER 4

which was situated near the western borders of the Bosporan kingdom.188 What is important to point out is the fact that the only known ethnonym attributed by the Greeks to the population inhabiting the foothills and the mountains of the Crimea are Taurians, although they may have been divided into many tribal units. Such a possibility is supported by a passage from Herodotus’ logos in which he mentions kings of the Taurians (Herodotus 4. 102). There is also an oft-quoted passage form Ammianus Marcellinus in which he mentions various kingdoms of the Taurians, including the Arichi, the Sinchi and the Napaei (Res Gestae 22. 8. 33). However, he seems to confuse the Taurians with the Maeotians of Kuban and other various peoples mentioned in ancient sources.189 It is also not certain how that may have reflected their ethnic homogeneity, since ethnic or sub-ethnic divisions are not always traceable in their material culture. The only source of information concerning Taurian identity is provided by the Greeks themselves.190 Thus, it seems feasible for modern scholars to follow Greek tradition and refer to the Kizil-Koba people as Taurians, at least those living contemporarily with the Black Sea Greeks. Worth mentioning is the fact that despite scholarly attempts to establish an etymology of the name Taurians, there remains no convincing explanation.191 Thus, the hypothesis suggested by Rostovtzeff should perhaps be taken into consideration; namely that the word Taurians was a Hellenised version of a local ethnonym that sounded similar to the Greek tauroi (i.e. bulls).192 A passage from Ps.-Scymnus (F 12 [823]) that has been preserved in the Anonymous Periplus of the Black Sea describes the Taurians as nomadic people. In light of what is now known from archaeological sources, this literary account may be actually describing seasonal pasturage (transhumance) rather than the actual Taurian way of living. Instead, the meaning of this passage has been extensively debated by scholars who suggest different readings. The passage itself says that Taurians ‘live their life as settled nomads’.193 Because of the oxymoron ‘settled nomads’, one of the editors, A.J. Letronne (1840) suggested changing the word ἐνόριον to ἐνόρειον (i.e. in the mountains).194 Another interpretation has been suggested by M. Korenjak who makes a conjecture in the passage and reads it as: βίον δ᾽ ὄρειον νομάδα τ᾽ ἐζηληκότες (‘they live their nomadic life in the mountains’)195 whereby ‘nomadic’ should be interpreted 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195

Khrapunov 2012, 72, 80. Bondarenko 2010, 11. One exception being the grave stele of Tychon the Taurian (CIRB 114). For an overview, see Bondarenko 2010, 6–7. Rostovtzeff 1918b, 195. Βίον δ᾽ ἐνόριον νομάδα τ᾽ ἐζηληκότες; this reading is accepted by Marcotte 2000. This reading is accepted by Diller 1952, 169. Korenjak 2002.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

159

rather as ‘pastoral’, as has implicitly been suggested earlier by D. Marcotte.196 However, when Marcotte’s note regarding the ancient meaning of the word ‘nomadic’ and also the type of economy that existed among the Taurians that inhabited the mountainous regions of the Crimea is taken into consideration, the information about the Taurians does not seem to contradict itself, no matter what reading is accepted. Worth also examining are the ancient accounts of Taurian piracy (Herodotus 4. 103; Diodorus Siculus 3. 43. 5, 20. 25; Strabo 7. 4. 2; Tacitus Ann. 12. 17). One of the most oft-quoted sources that prove the existence of piracy on the Black Sea is Diodorus, who says that king Eumelus (who ruled between 310 and 304 BC) freed the Black Sea from the pirate tribes of the Taurians, Heniochi and Achaeans (Diodorus Siculus 20. 25):197 On behalf of those who sailed to the Pontos he waged war on the barbarian tribes who were accustomed to plunder them, the Heniochoi and the Tauroi as well as the Achaians. Thus he cleared the sea of pirates, so that not only within his own kingdom, but throughout nearly the whole world, his magnanimity was proclaimed by the merchants, enabling him to receive the very finest of rewards for his good deeds.198

However, it has already been pointed out by D. Asheri that the Heniochi and Achaeans of the Caucasian coast functioned as a rhetorical topos of exotic and savage barbarians to whom Greek mythographers, historians and also Latin poets ascribed a Hellenic origin; the Heniochi were believed to be descendants of the charioteers of the Dioscuri whereas the Achaeans were often associated with the myth of the Argonauts or with the Trojan epic cycle. Such an ambivalent image of these peoples in Greek tradition was built through the creative manipulation of historical sources, mythmaking and recurring literary motifs. Their image was then used as a tool in cultural ideology and propaganda. Depending on the situation, they could be depicted either as a striking example of Greeks who had lost their cultural identity and went barbarian, or as foreign and hostile peoples living beyond the borders of Hellenic civilisation, against whom the Greeks had to fight.199 It has been pointed out that the passage from Diodorus clearly reveals a rhetorical character which is typical of Hellenistic honorary decrees.200 Diodorus’ exaggeration of Eumelus’ euergesiai seems to illustrate the Hellenistic policy of supporting merchants through wars against pirates that may have been rhetorically represented as a struggle of Hellenic 196 197 198 199 200

Marcotte 2000, 138, n. 7. See also the inscription of Sauromates II from Tanais: CIRB 1237, dated to AD 193. Transl. de Souza 1999, 55. Asheri 1998. Asheri 1998, 275.

160

CHAPTER 4

civilisation against savagery and barbarism. Such a policy aimed at interregional trade could undoubtedly bring political and economic benefits to the Bosporan ruler, since Milesian, Athenian and other foreign merchants constituted an important social group in the Spartocid kingdom, a group that actively supported Black Sea coastal trade. Eumelus’ policy could also be seen to strengthen his diplomatic relationships with trading partners by representing him as a ruler who fought for the common good.201 Furthermore, the material culture of the Taurians does not prove that piracy was an important element of their economy. A.M. Leskov points out that only a few finds have been discovered at Taurian sites on the south coast of the Crimea that may provide evidence for Taurian piracy before the 4th century BC (however, it seems more convincing to interpret such finds as evidence of trade rather than piracy). These includes sherds of pottery dated to the 6th–5th century BC found at the site of Foros, two sherds of Rhodian amphorae found in grave 41 on Koshka Mountain, sherds of red-figured pottery and amphorae found on Ai-Todor. Leskov also mentions two sherds of Samian amphorae that were found at the settlement on Koshka Mountain; however, this settlement that was previously ascribed to the Taurians (the Kizil-Koba culture) has recently been identified as Mediaeval.202 Leskov argues that attacks on Greek merchant ships may have happened occasionally.203 Nevertheless, it should be taken into consideration that piracy is extremely difficult to trace archaeologically, since the same objects may well indicate for example an exchange of goods.204 Thus, it cannot be certain if Greek and Roman finds from the Taurian sanctuaries at Gurzufskoe Sedlo and Selim-Bek can be interpreted as booty that was captured from Greek and Roman ships.205 Moreover, the sanctuary is situated at the mountain pass.206 Therefore, the Greek and Roman objects may have been dedications made by anyone crossing the mountains. Also, in the Hellenistic period piracy was often perceived as a kind of illegitimate trade rather than simply robbery. Stolen goods must have found a market in local ports, which required a certain level of engagement from the citizens with this form of economic activity.207 Leskov also indicates that Taurian attacks on ships occurred mainly when Greek traders were forced by difficult weather conditions to harbour in the bays 201

Asheri 1998, 275; de Souza 1999, 55. Bondarenko 2010, 16; Khrapunov 2012, 18, 75. 203 Leskov 1965, 168–69. 204 For piracy in Antiquity, see Ormerod 1978; de Souza 1999, who argues that piracy is not traceable in archaeology at all; and Gabrielsen 2003. For Black Sea piracy, see Tsetskhladze 2002a. 205 Cf. Bondarenko 2010, 49–50. 206 See Novichenkova 2002; 2008. 207 de Souza 1999, 22, 56–60. 202

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

161

not far from where Taurian settlements were located. 208 However, Strabo describes the port of Symbolon (modern Balaklava) as a place where the Taurians attack the ships that enter the bay (Strabo 7. 4. 2) whereas the same port was known from Black Sea periploi as a place where ships may stay safe during storms due to its location, as the port is separated from the sea by a promontory, which is still perfectly visible today (see Anonymous PPE 55). Worth mentioning is Tacitus’ description of an incident involving ‘the barbarians of the Taurian shores’ when he reports the return of the Roman ships after their victory over king Mithridates II and his allies in 49 BC. For reasons of convention, it seems that the barbarians who attacked the Romans were certainly interpreted as the Taurians (Ann. 12. 17): ‘In their return however fortune was not equally favourable; some of their vessels, as they were sailing back, were driven on the shores of the Tauri and cut off by the barbarians, who slew the commander of a cohort and several auxiliaries.’209 In the case of Greek-Taurian relationships, it has already been mentioned in the previous chapter that it seems reasonable to assume that there was a Taurian presence in northern Black Sea poleis. It has been proven that in several cases Kizil-Koba pottery, which has been found in virtually every Greek city in the Crimea, was produced in situ. Worth mentioning is the petrographic and technological analysis of the Kizil-Koba pottery found at Panskoye I in the distant chora of Chersonesus. This has revealed that some of the vessels were tempered with sand from the area of Eupatoria, which indicated that the pottery was produced there and brought to the site by a group of settlers. What is of most importance is the fact that a number of other vessels found at the site seem to have followed the same technique with local sand being used in production, which indicates that this particular pottery assemblage was manufactured in situ by the people who had brought this technological trend from another part of the Crimea.210 The analysis of fingerprints and nail imprints on hand-made pottery has revealed that the domestic production of pottery was a female activity.211 Another important observation that has been made with regard to the burial customs at Panskoye I is that they closely resemble those found at Taurian (Kizil-Koba) settlements, namely burials in a contracted position.212 Moreover, all contracted skeletons that have been identified by gender

208

Leskov 1965, 168–69. Complete Works of Tacitus. Translated from the Latin by A.J. Church and W.J. Brodribb, Edited by M. Hadas (New York, repr. 1942). 210 Stolba 2011, 333–34; Stolba and Rogov 2012, 31; see also Stolba 2002. 211 Stolba 2011, 334; 2014, 49. 212 Such burials make up 18.5% of all burials excavated at the site: Stolba 2011, 329–32; Stolba and Rogov 2012, 28. 209

162

CHAPTER 4

are female.213 Three of them have been found in multiple graves in which they were placed together with a supine male, which clearly indicates a mixed burial rite that is likely to suggest intermarriage.214 It has been suggested that burials in a contracted position should be associated with an archaic tradition of the indigenous population rather than with a concrete ethnos. Such burials also appear in other regions, such as the Kuban region (where it is most probably a Maeotian tradition). They were common practice during the Bronze and Early Iron Ages in several territories and were in later times replaced by supine burials.215 It is significant that, as mentioned above, Kizil-Koba assemblages reveal an archaic character that suggests a certain conservatism of the population, which is likely to have also manifested itself in their funerary practices. Therefore, contracted burials should be treated as a stadial rather than an ethnic marker.216 With that in mind, the hotly debated topic concerning contracted burials in the Northern Cemetery of the city of Chersonesus should be looked at from a different perspective. The burials have variously been interpreted: as belonging to the Taurians, the Greeks (parallels from mainland Greece to support this theory turned out to be anachronistic) or Greeks of a low social status.217 However, the fact that the practice of burying the dead in a contracted position appears to have been a strong archaic rite that was practised by a conservative indigenous community seems to indicate that the contracted burials from the Chersonesean cemetery should most probably be associated with the Taurian tradition. As the evidence form Panskoye I suggests, the Taurians inhabited not only the vicinity of Chersonesus but also its distant chora where intercultural relations seem to have played a more important role than in the city.218 It is also significant that the disappearance of contracted burials from the cemetery of Chersonesus in the 4th century BC is roughly contemporary with the time when the Taurians are no longer archaeologically distinguishable.219 However, as it is clearly visible in written sources, the disappearance of the Kizil-Koba culture does not result in the disappearance of the ethnic identity of the Taurians, since they are present in the written material up to the 2nd century AD. It appears that the gradual assimilation of the Taurians in terms of their material culture took place not only in Greek poleis but also in the Crimean steppes and foothills that were inhabited by 213 214 215 216 217 218 219

See Stolba 2011, 334 fig. 14. Stolba 2011, 333; 2014, 32, 68–69; Stolba and Rogov 2012, 30–31. Stolba 2011, 332–33 with n. 1. Stolba 2011, 333. Stolba 2011, 332; Stolba and Rogov 2012, 29–30. Stolba 2011. Stolba and Rogov 2012, 31.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

163

the Scythians from the 3rd century BC onwards. Consequently, such terms as Tauroskythai and Scythotauroi started to appear in the written record from the 1st century AD onwards.220 It was long assumed that the nature of the relationship between the Chersonesitans and the Taurians corresponded with two models of Greek colonisation that took place during the foundation of Chersonesus – earlier Ionian colonisation that was of peaceful character and Dorian that was more aggressive.221 It was argued that during the Dorian colonisation the Taurians were forced to leave the neighbouring territories of the city due to the agricultural expansion of the Chersonesitans. Some scholars even suggested that the Taurians lived in the chora of the city and tilled the land-plots of its citizens as dependent/semidependent paroikoi.222 However, such a hypothesis has not been proven archaeologically, since material from investigations of the Taurian settlements in the vicinity of Chersonesus has not been published.223 It is important to note, however, that archaeological investigation in the south-west area of Chersonesus has revealed that the city was most probably founded on the site of an earlier Kizil-Koba settlement.224 Furthermore, as Braund points out, it is hard to imagine that Greek settlers would have succeeded in founding the city of Chersonesus without establishing good relations with the neighbouring local population whose settlements were spread over the whole territory.225 An often discussed piece of evidence for unfriendly relations between the Greeks and the Taurians in the 3rd century BC is an inscription mentioning an attack on a Greek procession carrying the statue of Dionysus. This incident was described in one of the Chersonesean inscriptions in which the Taurians are called ‘the barbarians who live in the neighbourhood’ (IOSPE I2 343: οἴ παροικούντοι βαρβάροι). It has been suggested that one of the reasons for Taurian attacks on the Greek citizens might have been caused by the fact that at that time the Greeks had obtained and usurped new territories in the mountainous region of the Crimea in order to plant vineyards. However, the systematic land division of the Chersonesean chora was already accomplished during the first third of the 4th century BC.226 Therefore, this could not be the reason behind the attack described in the inscription. It has also been suggested that, as a 220 Stolba 1993a, 57; 2014, 67; Kolotukhin 1996, 86; Stolba and Rogov 2012, 31. See, for example, CIRB 1008; Pliny NH 4. 85; cf. Strabo 7. 4. 5, who calls the Taurians a Scythian tribe: Tauroi, Skuthikon ethnos. 221 Shcheglov 1981. 222 Pippidi 1959; 1973, 72–75. For an overview, see Bondarenko 2010, 73–74. 223 Khrapunov 2012, 84–85. 224 Bondarenko 2010, 67; Khrapunov 2012, 84. 225 Braund 2004b, 11. 226 Nikolaenko 2006, 162.

164

CHAPTER 4

result of Taurian hostility, the Greeks built fortifications along the Heraclean Peninsula.227 This was at the same time that the Taurians (together with the Scythians) fought against king Mithridates, which is mentioned in the honorary decree erected in honour of Diophantos. According to the inscription, Diophantos forced the Scythians into flight and subdued the Taurians (IOSPE I2 352). However, a recent investigation of the fortifications on the Heraclean Peninsula has revealed that the constructions were connected to farming and agriculture rather than having a military function.228 The presence of Taurians among the Chersonesean population during the early Roman period is confirmed by the Greek tomb inscription found in Chersonesus that is approximately dated to the 1st century AD, in which a Taurian woman is mentioned (IOSPE I2 528: γυνὴ Ταυρική).229 However, it cannot be certain whether the expression Taurike refers exactly to her ethnicity. It may well be combined with the territory which this woman inhabited throughout her lifetime. If we assume such an interpretation, the expression gune Taurike should be understood as a woman from Taurica while at the same time the word Taurica might have referred not only to the upper Crimea but also to the whole Crimean Peninsula.230 Another piece of epigraphic evidence from the early Roman period which highlights the common cliché that the Taurians are savage people is in a Latin grave stone inscription from Chersonesus. The inscription mentions the Taurians as those who killed a freedman and a doctor, Publius Vedius Threptus (IOSPE I2 562). As it can be seen, a clear dichotomy can be observed between the literary tradition concerning the Taurians and the visible image that is reflected in the archaeological material. It appears possible that the catalyst for the creation of a Greek tradition about the cruel and wild Taurians, a tradition that later was also transferred to Latin literature, was perhaps the oral tradition concerning the Black Sea lands, which was also later transferred into mythology and the Epic Cycle in which the association of the Taurians with Iphigenia became a standard motif. It is also visible that from the time of Herodotus onwards certain elements of the Taurian story became an indispensable part of Black Sea ethnography that continually repeated the same information connected to the myth of Iphigenia in Tauris (Ammianus Marcellinus 8. 33; Ovid Pont. 3). Worth mentioning is the fact that Euripides’ play Iphigenia in Tauris became extremely popular in Italy. This is visible in the numerous representations of scenes known from the myth that appear on South Italian vases that date to the 227 228 229 230

Leskov 1965, 183. Bondarenko 2010, 72. Leskov 1965, 184. See Saprykin 1996, 127–28; Bondarenko 2010, 77.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

165

4th century BC and also on Etruscan mirrors and urns from the 3rd and 2nd centuries BC. Other representations of Euripides’ play include a wall painting found at Pompei which may illustrate a scene from the tragedy.231 Also, in the 2nd century BC the Roman playwright Placuvius prepared his own version of Euripides’ play which was performed in Rome with significant success.232 As mentioned in the previous chapter, Euripides popularised such an image of the Taurians on a wider Panhellenic level. Euripides’ Taurians are a perfect example of the barbarian Other who played a crucial role in Athenian tragedy. In Iphigenia in Tauris Greek hospitality is juxtaposed with barbarian hostility. As argued by M. Oller Guzmán, an innovative element introduced into the tragedy by Euripides himself was the ritualised act of xenoktonia (murder of foreigners). Other elements of the play derived from such sources as: mythological tradition; stories about Taurian customs and the cult of Parthenos that might have been known from Greek ‘pre-colonial’ expeditions to the North Pontic region; aetiological myths concerning the cult of Artemis Tauropolos, and the convention of Greek tragedy.233 Thus, the Taurians who were represented in the tragedy did not serve as an historically correct depiction of people, but as barbarians who disregard the Greek custom of hospitality, a motif that is also known from other Euripidean plays such as Alcestis, the Cyclops and the lost play Chrysippus.234 However, it should be noted that such a dichotomy between the literary and historical Taurians does not necessarily mean that all the evidence of an unfriendly relationship between the Taurians and the Greeks (and the Romans) should be treated as unreliable. It has to be taken into consideration that the establishment of a constructive middle ground for mutual interactions and co-operation between Greek apoikiai and non-Greeks was perhaps not always possible. This is visible for example in such regions as the northern and southwestern Crimea during the 3rd and 2nd centuries BC; the archaeological material suggests that conflicts with neighbouring populations most probably existed at that time, which is also contemporary with the total devastation of the Chersonesean chora.235 What needs to be pointed out though is the fact that every situation should be examined in its own historical and geographical context. As presented above, the Taurians were a conglomerate of various groups of people who established their settlements over a vast area of mountainous Crimea.236 It appears 231 232 233 234 235 236

Skrzhinskaya 2001, 203; Bilde 2005, 214. Cicero Amic. 24; Bilde 2005, 214. Oller Guzmán 2008. Oller Guzmán 2008, 224 with n. 2. For numismatic evidence, see Stolba 2007; 2014, 54–61. Possibly also the Azov Sea coast in the Kerch Peninsula; see Khrapunov 2012, 22–24.

166

CHAPTER 4

that the Taurians were also present in the agrarian border zone of Greek poleis where they lived and came into close contact with the Greek population, as it can be assumed in the case of Panskoye I. Furthermore, Taurians most probably inhabited Greek cities where they are likely to have experienced a greater cultural assimilation (but not necessarily in terms of their ethnic identity) than in the countryside where their cultural conservatism could be more easily maintained. Also, there were groups of Taurians who lived in the foothills and mountainous areas who did not come into regular contact with the Greek cities before the 4th century BC, which seems to reflect the existence of a closed and self-sufficient economy.237 All the evidence mentioned above demonstrates that the image of the historical Taurians goes far beyond the fixed representation of these people in literary tradition, in which their image served mainly as an example of a barbarian and hostile Other. In the North Pontic context, the nature of Taurian-Greek (and later also Roman) interactions appear to have encompassed a range of different relationships that existed over centuries and varied between conflict and coexistence. 5. THE SA(U)R(O)MATIANS AND AMAZONS – ANCIENT AND MODERN MISCONCEPTIONS The Amazons are one of the most recognisable motifs in Greek tradition. They were often associated with the North Pontic region where their history is connected with the Sauromatians. Herodotus’ Histories provides important information regarding these people, according to which the Sauromatians were descendants of the Amazons and Scythians. Herodotus also informs us that the Amazons arrived in Scythia after being defeated by the Greeks at the battle of Thermodon in Asia Minor. The Amazons started to plunder their new land and subsequently they came into conflict with the Scythians. However, the Scythians having discovered that the warriors against whom they were fighting were female, decided to not kill them and instead, they sent a group of young men to establish intimate relationships with them. As a result, the Amazons intermarried with the Scythians and formed a new tribe called Sauromatians who inhabited the steppe between the Don and the Volga. As Herodotus mentions, the Sauromatian women maintained their old lifestyle and thus they hunted, fought and rode on horseback in the same manner as men (Herodotus 4. 110– 116).

237

Khrapunov 2012, 72.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

167

It appears that this story was one of the catalysts for modern scholars to look for archaeological proof of women holding a strong position in Sa(u)r(o)matian society, a society that has often been interpreted as matriarchal. The idea of steppe women being powerful and warlike is often illustrated by weapons and other objects that were interpreted as ‘male’ (such as horse equipment) frequently appearing in female graves in the Eurasian steppe.238 Such interpretations of female graves equipped with weapons as evidence of female warriors has come into vogue in Western scholarship, particularly since gender studies were introduced into archaeology; the idea of the Amazons as real warriorwomen inhabiting the Eurasian Steppes has especially been popularised by J. Davis-Kimball.239 However, the tradition of interpreting such graves as Amazon goes back to the Soviet period (Fig. 30).240 In terms of gender identity, the occurrence of weapons in female graves is often perceived as a marker of ‘male’ identity connected to a warrior status, which, as it will be shown below, can be misleading in the context of a steppe lifestyle. Furthermore, the concept of matriarchate existing among the Sauromatians and Sarmatians, who were often interpreted as being identical, seems to be a modern development rather than an actual ancient steppe tradition. There is a long scholarly tradition concerning the Amazon myth. In the 19th century it was commonly accepted that the myth reflects historical reality. In the 20th century an interest in the theory of myth resulted in structuralist interpretations, according to which the Amazons were represented in Greek tradition as a feminine Other who stays in opposition to Greek masculine values.241 It is worth pointing out that long-term academic interest in the Amazon motif has always been affected by contemporary trends in the study of Antiquity; this in turn has resulted in the fact that, as J.H. Blok notices, the myth of the Amazons today evokes more associations with modern interpretations rather than with ancient perceptions.242 It is visible that during the last few decades the idea of interpreting the Amazon myth as a reflection of historical reality has been put forward again, particularly in Western scholarship. This is likely to be caused by the two factors mentioned above; first, the growing interest in feminist theory and gender studies; and second, the occurrence of a number of 238

See Testart 2002; Rolle 1989, 86–91; Guliaev 2003; Mayor 2014. Davis-Kimball 1997a; 1997b; 1997–98; 2001; Davis-Kimball and Behan 2002. For gender archaeology, see Nelson and Rosen-Ayalon 2002; Nelson 2006. 240 See, for example, Ilinskaja and Terenozhkin 1983, 176–82 for ‘Amazon’ graves in Scythia dated to the 4th century BC; and Smirnov 1982 for a Sauromatian/early Sarmatian ‘Amazon’ grave dated to the 4th century BC. 241 For the history of the study of the Amazon myth in the 19th and 20th centuries, see Blok 1995. For a structuralist analysis, see Tyrrell 1984. 242 Blok 1995, 3–4; see also Ivantchik 2013. 239

168

CHAPTER 4

Fig. 30. Scythian grave of a young girl with weapons. Kurgan 13 near the village of Kapulovka. 4th century BC (after Il’inskaya and Terenozhkin 1983, 177).

Western publications in which female graves with weapons are interpreted as belonging to ‘female warriors’, the ‘prototypes’ of the mythical Amazons.243 These graves are frequently used as the main argument in discussion. However, the accuracy of such an archaeological interpretation of the graves is not discussed, but taken for granted.244 It is likely that the ambiguity in the perception of the Sauromatians and Sarmatians in Antiquity has had an impact on the way in which the Eurasian nomads have been associated with the myth of the Amazons. It is visible that the early written sources mention three ethnonyms that seem to have referred to the same people who inhabited the regions around the Sea of Azov and the 243 Davis-Kimball 1997a; 1997b; 1997–98; Davis-Kimball and Yablonsky 1995; Rolle 1989, 86–91. 244 See, for example, Mayor 2014.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

169

Don. These ethnonyms are Sarmatai, Sauromatai and Surmatai.245 Herodotus mentions two different locations for the Sauromatians and it is possible that he is referring to two different and perhaps non-contemporary groups of people.246 In the Hippocratic treatise Airs Waters Places, the Sauromatians are called a Scythian race and their women are depicted in the same manner as Herodotus’ Amazons, especially with regard to the custom of killing an enemy before marriage. However, both sources are roughly contemporary and it should not be excluded that they are independent of each other and perhaps derived from a common older source (Ps.-Hippocrates AWP 17):247 And in Europe is a Scythian race, dwelling round Lake Maeotis, which differs from the other races. Their name is Sauromatae. Their women, so long as they are virgins, ride, shoot, throw the javelin while mounted, and fight with their enemies. They do not lay aside their virginity until they have killed three of their enemies, and they do not marry before they have performed the traditional sacred rites. A woman who takes to herself a husband no longer rides, unless she is compelled to do so by a general expedition. They have no right breast; for while they are yet babies their mothers make red-hot a bronze instrument constructed for this very purpose and apply it to the right breast and cauterise it, so that its growth is arrested, and all its strength and bulk are diverted to the right shoulder and right arm.248

An example of a traditional association of the Sauromatians with the Amazons is to be found in Pliny’s work which is clearly derived from Herodotus’ story about the origin of the Sauromatians.249 Pliny mentions that the Sarmatians are divided into a number of tribes including the Sauromatians Gynaecocratumenoe, the husbands of the Amazons (Pliny NH 6. 7. 19). The term Gynaecocratumenoe, which means ‘those who are ruled by women’, is also mentioned by Ps.-Scylax (F 72: Σαυροματῶν δέ ἐστιν ἔθνος γυναικοκρατούμενον). Analysis of the use of the ethnonyms has demonstrated that they were often deployed interchangeably, especially in Greek sources. For example, Ps.-Scymnus mentions both the Sauromatians and Sarmatians, the latter name being used most probably due to the verse metre.250 Moreover, the term Sarmatians (as an equivalent of Sauromatians) appears to have been in use half a century before the group of nomads, who are called Sarmatians by modern scholars, arrived at the steppe territory west of the Don river. This is attested by written sources 245 Herodotus 4. 21, 4. 116; Ps.-Hippocrates AWP 17; Ps.-Scylax 68: Συρμάται is probably a distortion of either Σαρμάται or Σαυρομάται, see Tokhtasev 2005, 297; Ps.-Scylax 70; Antigonus Hist. Mirab. 152. For an analysis of the ethnonyms, see Tokhtasev 2005. 246 Herodotus 4. 21, 4. 116; Herodotus’ information about the latter location is repeated by Pomponius Mela 1. 14; Tokhtasev 2005, 291. 247 Ivantchik 2013, 79; cf. Herodotus 4. 116–117. 248 Hippocrates Collected Works I. Transl. W.H.S. Jones (Cambridge, MA 1868). 249 See Tokhtasev 2005, 291 with n. 4. 250 Tokhtasev 2005, 291–92.

170

CHAPTER 4

and is also evident in the archaeological material; their arrival is mentioned by Diodorus who, most probably due to literary tradition, calls them Sauromatians (2. 43. 7):251 Many years later this people became powerful and ravaged a large part of Scythia, and destroying utterly all whom they subdued they turned most of the land into a desert.252

The event described by Diodorus is often dated to the turn of the 4th and 3rd centuries BC, which is supported by the fact that Scythian settlement in the steppe and forest-steppe area ceased to exist at his time.253 However, there are no destruction layers (that could be attributed to the Sarmatians) in the archaeological record at Scythian settlements that are dated to that period; therefore, the date of the event described by Diodorus remains uncertain. It has to be noted that Diodorus’ description of the destruction of Scythia reveals a strong rhetorical influence, which is visible in the intentional hyperbolism such as the pleonastic repetition of the same information at the beginning and the end of the phrase: ‘they devastated and they turned into a desert’.254 It is striking that in the epigraphic sources the name Sarmatians with regard to the newly arrived group of nomads is rarely found, whereas a number of other ethnonyms occur that are associated by scholars with the Sarmatians.255 This is likely to suggest that the name Sarmatians was in fact a blanket term used by ancient writers (and also modern scholars) which included various groups of nomads who inhabited a vast area of steppe territory that spread from the Don to Central Asia.256 The analysis of the ethnonyms Sarmatai and Sauromatai has in turn indicated that both forms are derived from the same Iranian source but do not refer to the same people. Furthermore, the forms are not contemporary to each other. That is, the name Sauromatians appears to be older than Sarmatians. However, as mentioned above, this ethnonym was more likely a general term which included numerous groups of people.257 It is visible that from the 1st century BC onwards ancient writers no longer distinguished between the Sauromatians who lived in the 6th–4th centuries BC in the region east of the Don, and the Sarmatians 251

Similarly Strabo 7. 2. 4, 11. 6. 2; Tokhtasev 2005, 292, 294–95. Diodorus of Sicily in Twelve Volumes with an English Translation by C.H. Oldfather, vol. 2 (Cambridge, MA/London 1961). 253 Tokhtasev 2005, 292. 254 Tokhtasev 2005, 292. 255 For example, the Sai and Saudaratae in the Protogenes inscription IOSPE I² 32: Tokhtasev 2005; Mordvintseva 2013b, 204 with further literature. 256 Tokhtasev 2005, 299; cf. Mordvintseva 2015, who suggests that the name ‘Sarmatians’ was initially designated to an elite group that played a decisive role in international politics. 257 Tokhtasev (2013, 299) provides a parallel with the term ‘Slavs’ that describes various ethnic groups. 252

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

171

who arrived in this territory at the beginning of the 3rd century BC. As a consequence, both names often occur in written sources interchangeably.258 Similarly to the Amazon myth, the study of Sarmatian history was strongly affected by various scholarly trends.259 The earliest tradition concerning the study of the Sarmatians was connected with the 18th-century concept of the pre-Slavic ‘Scytho-Sarmatian’ period. According to this idea, the continual process of settlement regarding the Scythians, Sarmatians and Slavs was followed by the establishment of the Russian empire. Consequently, in the 19th century the steppes of South Russia were perceived as a place where consecutive waves of nomads from the East replaced one another, which in turn was seen as a crucial factor in the historical development of Russia (see Chapter 1.2). The North Pontic region was perceived as a buffer zone between the East and West, which prevented these waves of nomads from expanding further west. It is assumed that such a concept was influenced by the historical experience of two nomadic invasions that greatly affected Eastern Europe – those of the Huns and the Tatar-Mongols.260 In the early 20th century, such an idea of consecutive waves of nomads resulted in the development of explanatory models regarding the history of the Sarmatians. The first model, that assumed long-distance migration from the East, was put forward by Rostovtzeff who, following Diodorus’ information, interpreted the appearance of the Sarmatians in Scythia as an invasion of a new Iranian people who entered the North Pontic region from Asia. In order to prove such an interpretation, Rostovtzeff looked for archaeological remains of the Sarmatian culture in the territory east of the Don. According to Rostovtzeff, such remains were to be found in the Pokhorovka kurgans discovered near Orenburg in which objects such as armour, weapons, Animal-style finds and Achaemenid imports have been recorded.261 These kinds of objects were interpreted by Rostovtzeff as ethnic markers of the Sarmatian culture and they were also likely to show a Sarmatian connection with the Iranian world.262 Also, other kurgans in the Kuban area and the Don region were pointed out by Rostovtzeff in order to demonstrate the path of gradual Sarmatian migration from the Ural region westwards. According to this scenario, the invasion of the new Iranian group caused the ‘fall’ of Scythia and consequently, the movement of the Scythians to the Crimea and the Dobrudja.263 Rostovtzeff also suggested that 258 259 260 261 262 263

Tokhtasev 2013, 296. See Mordvintseva 2008; 2013a; 2013b; 2015, 113–14 with n. 34; Dan 2017. Mordvintseva 2008, 54; 2013b, 204–05. Rostovtzeff 1922, 122–24. Mordvintseva 2013b, 206; Dan 2017, 99 with n. 5. Mordvintseva 2013b, 206–07; Rostovtzeff 1922, 124–29.

172

CHAPTER 4

the name Sarmatae was formed as a result of a similarity between the names Syrmatae and Sauromatae.264 At the same time, he differentiated between the Sarmatians and Sauromatians, the latter being regarded as a local population who, in contrast to the patriarchal Sarmatians, maintained archaic matriarchal traditions in their culture.265 Worth also noting is the fact that the cults of the goddesses Aphrodite, Artemis and Demeter, that were prevalent in the Bosporan cities, were interpreted by Rostovtzeff as an interpretatio graeca of one and the same Iranian Great Goddess that was worshipped by the Scythians as well as the Maeotians, Sindians and Sauromatians who, unlike the Scythians, maintained a matriarchal organisation not only in the religious sphere but also in their social life.266 Although the existence of the Great Goddess among the Iranian speaking population of the North Pontic region has never been proven, Rostovtzeff’s concept is still being used as an argument for the strong position of women in nomadic society.267 During the Soviet period another explanatory model was developed that was strongly influenced by both the political situation and Marxist theory. This model was based on the theory of stages, according to which the Sarmatians were a native population of the Volga-Ural region and successors of the Sauromatians. From that point of view, the Sauromatian and Sarmatian culture represented a single archaeological culture divided into chronological stages which spread from the 6th century BC to the 4th century AD.268 Such a concept was developed by B.N. Grakov who denied Rostovtzeff’s differentiation between the matriarchal Sauromatians and patriarchal Sarmatians. Instead, he suggested that the Sarmatians remained matriarchal in their culture.269 Grakov’s ideas were then explored by his student K.F. Smirnov who also applied an evolutionary model to the study of the development of the Sarmatian culture. In order to identify Sarmatian ethnicity in the archaeological material, Smirnov looked for ethnic markers such as field inhumation, weapon finds in female graves, specific types of pottery, long swords and arrowheads. These ethnic markers were often randomly selected and were devoid of any context specific analysis.270 From the 1950s onwards migration models again started to be the dominant explanatory concept in Soviet archaeological studies of Central Eurasia. Even 264 265 266 267 268 269 270

Rostovtzeff 1922, 114. Rostovtzeff 1922, 33; Mordvintseva 2008, 56–58; 2013b, 206. Meyer 2011, 81 with n. 16; Rostovtzeff 1922, 33–34; see Chapter 3.1. See, for example, Guliaev 2003, 121–23. Mordvintseva 2008, 59–61; 2013b, 209. Grakov 1947. Mordvintseva 2008, 60; 2013b, 210–11; Smirnov 1957; 1964; 1984.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

173

today these migration models significantly influence Eurasian scholarship.271 In the case of the history of the Sarmatians, the concept of waves of longdistance migration from the East that was suggested earlier by Rostovtzeff was re-examined during the 1970s and 1980s. Due to the fact that new archaeological material became available, scholars pointed out the existence of a chronological gap between Sauromatian and Sarmatian art, which considerably weakened Smirnov’s theory.272 Furthermore, during the 1990s large-scale excavations conducted in the Volga-Don region revealed various objects of Siberian and Mongolian origin that dated to the 2nd and 1st centuries BC. This suggested a close connection between the Volga-Don area and the Ural region, which led to the formulation of a new concept of long-distance migration from the East.273 At the same time, other explanatory models emerged such as the concept of environmental catastrophe, according to which the fall of ‘Great Scythia’ was a result of climate and economic changes in the region rather than the Sarmatian invasion.274 However, this concept has been criticised by both archaeologists and historians.275 There is an alternative approach to the problem of the Sarmatian arrival in the North Pontic region and the depopulation of Scythia at the beginning of the 3rd century BC. According to this approach, several factors shaped the demographic situation in the North Pontic region, such as the Greek apoikiai (which appear to have suffered from an economic crisis at this time), climate change, and pressure from the peoples situated both west (which is attested in, for example, the Protogenes inscription, IOSPE I2 32) and east of the region. These factors resulted in a complex and diverse spread of archaeological material throughout the region, the nature of which makes it impossible to interpret through one explanatory model.276 It appears that the ideas of matriarchy provided a conceptual framework for the understanding of the ‘female-warrior’ graves that have been recorded in various regions of the Eurasian steppes. The image of the female warrior was applied not only to the Sauromatian/early Sarmatian society but also to the Scythians as well as other nomads, regardless of the time period and the geographical location.277 271 For an overview, see Frachetti 2011. For a critique of the model, see, for example, Anthony 2007. 272 Mordvintseva 2013b, 212. 273 Mordvintseva 2013b, 212–13. 274 For example Polin 1992. 275 Mordvintseva 2013b, 214–15 with further literature. 276 Mordvintseva 2013a; 2013b; see also Stolba 2014, 51–61. 277 See, for example, Jones-Bley 2008; Olsen and Harding 2008, 71, who suggest the existence of female warriors in the Copper Age Botai culture of northern Kazakhstan. Such a suggestion is

174

CHAPTER 4

One of the most important sources regarding Greek perceptions of the Amazons is iconography.278 The first depictions of the Amazons appeared as early as the end of the 8th century BC; they became especially popular, particularly in Attica, from the first half of the 6th century BC.279 There are three scenes concerning the Amazons that appeared consecutively on 6th-century BC Attic vases. The first and the most popular scene represents Heracles’ battle to obtain Hippolyta’s girdle dated to the second quarter of the 6th century BC; the second scene depicts Achilles’ combat with the Amazon queen Penthesilea at Troy (around 540 BC). The third representation is the scene of Theseus’ abduction of Antiope, which caused the Amazons to attack the Athenian Acropolis (around 520 BC). The Amazons that appear on Attic black-figure vases between 560 and 520 BC are most often depicted as hoplite warriors and only their white-painted skin distinguishes them from the Greeks. However, from about 550 BC onwards the Amazons started to be depicted with Thracian and Scythian features; both peoples were well known to the Greeks as foreign warriors and they first appear on Attic vases about the same time as the Amazons, around the middle of the 6th century BC.280 It is suggested that such depictions of the Amazons may indicate the existence of a traditional association between the Amazons and Thrace (see the passage from Proclus below), which may have been the result of Athenian contact with this region that is visible in the general interest in Thracian motifs in Greek art and literature.281 However, the usual location of the Amazons in Greek tradition was Themiskyra in Asia Minor on the River Thermodon; from this land, according to Herodotus, the Amazons escaped to the North Pontic region after a lost battle against the Greeks.282 Apart from iconography, the Amazon motif was already present in Greek oral tradition. This is visible in the passages from the Iliad in which the Amazons, with the Homeric epithet antianeirai (men’s equals), are first mentioned as allies of the Trojans and second, as people from the past that were defeated by Bellerophon in Lycia (Homer Iliad 3. 189; 6. 186). There is also a passage from Proclus’ summary of the Aithiopis in which the Amazon queen Penthesilea, a daughter of Ares and a Thracian by origin, is killed by Achilles.283 All these examples show that the Amazon motif consisted of a variety of narratives

put forward due to ethnographic analogies with nomadic societies of later periods discussed by Davis-Kimball and Behan 2002. 278 For the Amazons in Greek art, see von Bothmer 1957. 279 Shapiro 1983, 105. 280 Shapiro 1983, 105–06. 281 Shapiro 1983, 107–10. 282 Herodotus 4. 110; cf. Diodorus Siculus 2. 45; Shapiro 1983, 105, 108. 283 Blok 1995, 147–48.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

175

that were developed in Greek tradition over many centuries. The analysis of the earliest iconographic and written sources concerning the Amazon motif has suggested that the Amazon myth was already present in Greek tradition before the Greeks came into contact with the Sauromatians who arrived at the North Pontic steppes not earlier than the 6th century BC. Moreover, at the time of the Homeric poems Greek knowledge of the northern Black Sea coast was not yet comprehensive.284 Therefore, it does not seem convincing to look for the source of the Amazon myth among the Eurasian nomads who became familiar to the Greeks after the time of Homer. It has also been pointed out that similar stories about a tribe of female warriors are attested in other parts of the world such as the Pacific islands.285 What seems more likely is that the idea of warlike Sauromatian women evolved as a result of military conflicts that most probably existed between the Sauromatians and the Scythians who inhabited the Don region. As it has been argued, in such extreme situations women may have been engaged in warfare; this seems to be reflected in the local female graves in which weapons have frequently been found. It has to be noted that there is a discrepancy in the information provided by Smirnov concerning the percentage of Sauromatian female graves with weapons.286 According to Smirnov, 20% of all Sauromatian graves containing weaponry are those of females.287 However, in a later publication Smirnov argues that 20% of all Sauromatian female graves contain weapons, which exaggerates the actual number of female graves with weapons.288 In recent publications the latter information provided by Smirnov is often quoted to demonstrate the existence of a high number of Sauromatian ‘warrior-women’.289 Recent archaeological data indicates that in fact there is no considerable difference in the percentage of female graves with weapons between Sauromatian and Scythian burials. This is likely to suggest that the social status of women in these societies did not differ considerably and thus, it does not seem possible to differentiate between a matriarchal (Sauromatian) and a patriarchal (Scythian) society. The reason behind the association of the Sauromatians with the Amazons may have been linked to the fact that in the 6th and 5th centuries BC the Black Sea Greeks had not yet established direct (or regular) contact with the Sauromatians; therefore, it seems probable that reports about fighting Sauromatian women may have 284

See Ivantchik 2005a, 18–66; 2013, 76–77; see Chapter 4.3. Ivantchik 2013, 77. 286 See Ivantchik 2013, 81–82 with n. 36. 287 Smirnov 1964, 201. 288 Smirnov 1989, 169. 289 See, for example, Lebedynsky 2001, 53; Testart 2002, 186, who cites Lebedynsky 2001; Berseneva 2008, 139. 285

176

CHAPTER 4

been transferred to the Greeks through the Scythian population with whom the Greeks maintained regular contact during that time.290 Such second-hand reports may have led to the association of the fighting women with the Amazons, who were well-known female warriors in Greek tradition. More importantly, the Amazon motif was used as a conceptual tool in creating a Sauromatian genealogy that was linked to the broader Panhellenic mythological framework. In that sense, the Herodotean story about the Amazons provides an example of how the North Pontic region became familiarised through the incorporation of the local environment into the Greek imaginary view of the oikoumene. This may be the reason behind the popularity that the Amazon motif enjoyed in the northern Black Sea region. This is particularly visible in the representations of Amazonomachy (as well as Gryphomachy) and Amazon heads on the 4th century BC red-figure vases (the so-called Kerch vases) that have been found in large quantities, usually in a burial context, at sites throughout the Bosporan kingdom (Fig. 21).291 A similar situation of incorporating the Amazon myth into a new territory is also attested in modern history. In the 16th century the Amazon myth migrated together with the Spanish colonists to South America where the colonists came across native women who were able to defend themselves when facing danger. They are described in written reports as a tribe of warrior women skilled in archery. There are also other details of the story (which clearly derive from ancient tradition), according to which the women cut off their right breast to become stronger in combat, and that they also possessed an enormous treasure of gold. Since the Spaniards began to refer to the women as Amazons, the main river of the region also started to be called the Amazon.292 As it has been suggested, such imaginary ethnography that linked the Mediterranean with the new land was an important element of recognising and familiarising new, strange territories through the use of traditional knowledge and the projection of myths.293 The projection of the Amazon myth in South America lasted for centuries; as a consequence, there are known explorers from the 17th and 18th centuries who still looked for warrior women and their golden treasure that was hidden in the Amazon forest.294 The interpretation of weapons in female burials in the context of steppe society is another important question to examine. It has been pointed out that social interpretations of status and identity that are based only on mortuary 290 291 292 293 294

Ivantchik 2013, 82–83. Fless 2002, 77–93; 2008; Fless and Lorenz 2005b. Marshall 2005, 299–300. Marshall 2005, 298. Marshall 2005, 301.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

177

evidence are problematic due to the fact that they adopt approaches that are too functional in nature. They do not take into consideration the possible intentions of the living or their relationship with the dead, two factors that may have been reflected in mortuary practices and the deposition of grave-goods.295 An example of such a functional approach are the archaeological reports of the Pokrovka cemeteries that were excavated between 1992 and 1996 by an AmericanRussian expedition.296 Three main statuses have been determined for women and these were based exclusively on the presence or absence of specific objects that were treated as status markers. These statuses include hearth women (which make up 75% of all female graves; this status has been determined by the appearance of earrings, beads, bracelets), priestesses (7%; determined by stone or clay altars, shells, bronze mirrors, objects of animal art, and ores or pigments) and warriors (15%; determined by arrowheads, quivers, swords, daggers and amulets). There is also a fourth category, that of warrior-priestesses (3%; determined by a combination of weaponry and objects interpreted as cultic).297 Such an approach, however, causes methodological problems. The first problem is the sexing and aging of sub-adult individuals, which is difficult due to the minimal sexual dimorphism among children and juveniles. It is also problematic to assume what statuses and social identities could have been applied to children and young people. It is significant that a number of women’s graves with weapons from the North Pontic and Volga-Don steppes belonged to young individuals (see Fig. 30).298 In such a context one has to take into consideration that the deposition of weaponry can be a reflection of an ascribed rather than an achieved status of the dead. In such a case, weapons deposited in the grave may have never been used by the dead. The same methodological problem also exists in the case of adult burials, both male and female, whose mortuary assemblages may have reflected the agency of the living who articulated the identity of the deceased though the mortuary practice itself.299 There are instances in which displaying the social identity of a buried individual was less important than displaying other kinds of identities and/or statuses. For example, in the Karasuk society (dated to the Final Bronze Age and located in the 295

Hanks 2008, 15–16 with further literature. Davis-Kimball and Yablonsky 1995; Davis-Kimball 1997a; 1997–98; 1998; 2001. 297 Davis-Kimball 1997a; 1997–98, 8–9; 1998, 143; 2001, 247. 298 Hanks 2008, 22–24. See Ilinskaya and Terenozhkin 1983, 176–82; Guliaev 2003; DavisKimball 1997b; 2002, 58, who refers to a young ‘warrior-priestess’ aged 13–14 years. Note that a burial of a 16-year-old girl with weapons has also been found in one of the Pazyryk kurgans; the mortuary assemblage includes a bow, quiver, bronze ritual axe and a dagger: Berseneva 2008, 139. 299 Hanks 2008, 24. 296

178

CHAPTER 4

Minusinsk basin in eastern Eurasia) both women and children appear to have acquired the social status of the man with whom they were buried.300 The interpretation of grave-goods in functional terms is another methodological problem, since the objects discovered in a grave do not necessarily directly represent the activities, social roles or social identities of the deceased.301 For example, the deposition of bronze mirrors that have been interpreted by Davis-Kimball as markers of priest/priestess identity appear to have been a widespread phenomenon during the Early Iron Age in the vast territories of the Eurasian steppe.302 The mirrors appear in a variety of funerary contexts in graves belonging both to males and females as well as children; thus, they most likely had multiple meanings depending on a specific social context.303 Similarly, weapons such as arrowheads, swords, daggers and spearheads need not represent a warrior identity. For example, arrowheads, that are the most frequent finds in female graves, may for example be associated with hunting.304 It has also been suggested that weapons such as the bow and arrow may have been used by women as protection against wild animals or robbers during the absence of men.305 In that sense, the presence of arrowheads in female graves may have also had an apotropaic function.306 Moreover, it should not be excluded that in certain situations weaponry (particularly arrowheads) in female graves may have symbolised affiliation of the buried women with warrior (elite) clans, as it has been suggested in the context of the Iron-Age Sagat society in Western Siberia.307 Moreover, the analysis of 110 Sagat kurgans has revealed that the number of females buried in the kurgans is smaller than that of males. This is likely to indicate that another burial practice existed in Sagat society which is invisible in the archaeological record, and that perhaps not every family could afford an elaborate mound burial for their women.308 A similar percentage is visible in the above-mentioned Pokrovka cemetery that is roughly contemporary with the Sagat culture.309 In that context, objects that were associated with males may have also reflected the high social status of the buried women.310 300

Legrand 2008. Hanks 2008, 24–29. 302 Davis-Kimball 1997–98, 6; 2001, 245–46; cf. Rolle 1989, 91, who in turn interprets the mirrors in Amazon graves as a marker of femininity. 303 Rubinson 2002; Hanks 2008, 25. 304 Hanks 2008, 26; cf. Berseneva 2008, 139–40. 305 Ivantchik 2013, 82. 306 Ivantchik 2013, 80. 307 Berseneva 2008, 150. 308 Berseneva 2008, 135 and 138. 309 35% of identifiable graves belonged to females and 65% to males; Davis-Kimball 1997–98, 5; 1998, 142; 2001, 245. 310 See Berseneva 2008, 139. 301

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

179

However, the attribution of certain objects to a male or a female identity is also problematic. A useful conceptual tool is provided by gender studies, according to which gender is perceived as a social construct and an expression of self-identity rather than an actual biological sex. In that sense, each gender adopts sex-related roles in society which can be described as ‘male’ and ‘female’, however, these roles may be performed by both men and women depending on whether an individual wants to express a more feminine or masculine identity.311 This helps to understand the fact that it is not always possible to categorise mortuary assemblages and differentiate between the objects that always accompany women and those that always accompany men. On the contrary, gendered artefacts such as spindle whorls that were traditionally considered as typical of female graves are sometimes found in male as well as child burials. In the above-mentioned Sagat culture, only 46% of grave assemblages follow a traditional gender division.312 Moreover, it has been argued that in certain instances the expression of power, status or cultural identity appears to have been more important than the expression of gender identity. This may have been the case for the appearance of weapons in Scythian and Sauromatian graves at the time of shifting power relations. More importantly, in such circumstances gender identities and roles may not have been as strictly fixed as they were during more politically stable times.313 Thus, it seems possible that at times of conflict women may have displayed a more masculine identity (or such an identity may have been attributed to them), as in the case of the Scythian and Sauromatian female graves with weapons that have been discussed above. Similarly, a steppe lifestyle is likely to have imposed specific gender roles that were different than those among settled societies that lived in cities, where gendered social roles were more fixed. Therefore, objects such as horse equipment in female burials do not necessarily indicate a warrior identity, as interpreted by Davis-Kimball.314 Instead, riding on horseback should be perceived through its importance (as a means of transportation) for steppe societies whose life was based on pasturage.315 It should also be taken into consideration that status and identity of women in nomadic societies may have varied significantly depending on the social, historical as well as geographical context. A good example of this is provided by two Asian societies, the early Korean state of Silla (1st century BC– 311

See, for example, Arnold 2002. Berseneva 2008, 142. 313 See Rubinson 2008; Shelach 2008, 108. 314 Davis-Kimball 1997a; 1997b; 1997–98; 2001. 315 Nelson 2008, 111–12. For the evidence of horse riding among Sagat women, see Berseneva 2008, 133. 312

180

CHAPTER 4

7th century AD) where both women and men of all social ranks rode horses (which was a result of influence from the steppe world) and contemporary China where only men and the upper classes were allowed to use horses.316 Therefore, it does not seem feasible to apply Greek perceptions and ideas concerning gender roles in nomadic societies to modern study. Instead, the role and status of nomadic women should be investigated from a wider social, cultural, historical and geographical perspective. CONCLUSION As it has been demonstrated, imaginary geography in Greek thought had a great impact on how the northern Black Sea was perceived in Antiquity. Due to its location at the northern margins of the known world, non-Greek inhabitants of this region were included in mythological representations that were produced according to topoi that were commonly recognisable in Greek tradition. Greek perceptions of the North Pontic region are visible on both local and Panhellenic levels. In the case of the Cimmerians, they are perceived locally through the way in which the Black Sea Greeks incorporated the mythical past into their local historical tradition through the creation of Cimmerian toponyms. At the same time, the Cimmerians functioned as an important literary motif that had its roots in oral epic tradition that was a significant element of Greek culture on a broader Panhellenic level. Representations of the Scythians in Greek tradition did not follow the same rules, which is perfectly visible for example in Scythian iconography that differs considerably between Athenian and North Pontic art. As it can be observed in the Scythian scenes depicted on Graeco-Scythian metalwork, they clearly have their own distinctive character. The opposition to the Other which is known from Athenian representations of the Scythians/Scythianised figures does not seem to play an important role in Graeco-Scythian art.317 It has been illustrated that the mental image of the Scythians in Greek thought consisted of a number of ideas that referred to both real and legendary Scythians. A Scythian repertoire may have been creatively used to project desirable connotations with popular ethnic stereotypes, a system of values or a nomadic lifestyle. Moreover, Greek perceptions of the Scythians may sometimes have reflected the political situation that existed at the time between the northern Black Sea region and the rest of the Graeco-Roman world. Such an intentional 316 317

Nelson 2008. See Meyer 2013, 209.

GREEK REPRESENTATIONS OF THE NORTH PONTIC OTHERS

181

Fig. 31. Sanctuaries of Achilles: 1. Leuke; 2. Olbia; 3. Borysthenes (Berezan); 4. Race of Achilles (Tendra Spit); 5. Hylaia (Kinburn Peninsula); 6. Cape Hippolaos (Cape Stanislav); 7. Cape Beikush (adapted from Hupe 2006, Taf. 28).

use of literary topoi also appears to have played an important role in Greek rhetoric, such as in the case of Ephorus’ idealisation of the Scythians and Dio Chrysostom’s Borystheniticus. Furthermore, it seems probable that such topoi may have been used in political propaganda, which is visible in Eumelus’ policy against Taurian piracy. The Amazon motif in turn clearly demonstrates how a Greek perception of non-Greeks may influence modern study. It is also visible that in certain instances Greek tradition has even led to the creation of modern myths, which have in turn provided a conceptual framework of interpretation in the study of ancient society. It should be noted that a better understanding of the cultural,

182

CHAPTER 4

social and economic situations that may have existed among the North Pontic steppe population will certainly improve the way in which particular identities are applied to women in Antiquity. Greek pieces of art that have been found in the northern Black Sea area as well as epigraphic material have also demonstrated that the Black Sea Greeks were aware of how their region was perceived by the Greeks from outside the Black Sea milieu. Moreover, Greek representations of the North Pontic Others appear to have been used in the process of creating a local cultural identity within Greek poleis. This is visible in the popularity of griffin and Amazon scenes depicted on Kerch vases, which seem to reflect a local taste for myths connected with the North Pontic region.

CONCLUSIONS

The material analysed in this book has demonstrated how local identities were intentionally created and maintained in the North Pontic region over many centuries, and how sometimes these identities were applied to North Pontic societies by outsiders using common clichés and stereotypes. Greek pieces of art that have been found in the northern Black Sea area as well as epigraphic material have also demonstrated that the Black Sea Greeks were aware of how their region was perceived by the Greeks from outside the Black Sea milieu. Moreover, Greek representations of the North Pontic Others appear to have been used in the process of creating a local cultural identity within Greek poleis. In the 20th century the western and northern Black Sea area was included into the conceptual framework of a homogeneous ‘Eastern Europe’ which emerged (especially in its political sense) during the communist period.1 Although the term Eastern Europe lost its political (and ideological) connotations after 1990, the effects of such a division between Eastern and Western Europe are still noticeable today. For many years the Black Sea region remained beyond the main focus of interest of Western scholarship. This was likely to be caused not only by the geographical remoteness of the Black Sea region from the Mediterranean World with which classical study is mainly associated, but also by the political situation that resulted in a split in the way in which archaeological and anthropological thoughts developed (see Chapters 1 and 2). The northern Black Sea region has been conceptualised not only in Antiquity but also in modern times when the region was included into the conceptual framework of Eurasia. According to Rostovtzeff’s concept of the GraecoIranian world, the South Russian steppe was a meeting place of the Western and Eastern worlds. Such a concept was connected with the idea of the Eurasian steppe as a pan-Eurasian cultural, economic and politically unified region. However, it appears that this concept is a modern idea that was non-existent in Antiquity. The evidence of a strong cultural link between various groups of peoples inhabiting the steppes and the Iranian plateau has in fact never been found. Moreover, neither the use of Iranian languages by certain nomadic groups nor the so-called Animal Style in Scythian art should be interpreted as 1

See King 2004, 4–5 with n. 4.

184

CONCLUSIONS

evidence of Iranian cultural unity.2 The recent study of Graeco-Scythian metalwork has shown that Graeco-Scythian art had its own character that was based on a coherent system of values (that was shared among the Eurasian nomads) rather than a sense of cultural unity (see Chapter 1.3–4). The analysis of Greek written, iconographic and archaeological sources carried out in this book has shown the nature of intercultural relationships in the North Pontic region and the way in which they were perceived in both Antiquity and in modern study. For that reason, an overview of both Eastern and Western approaches to ethnicity and multiculturalism has been provided. Special focus has been placed on Postcolonial Studies due to the fact that they offer a new methodology and fresh insight into cross-cultural relationships in Antiquity, particularly in the Black Sea region which, as mentioned above, has for many years been beyond the main focus of the study of ethnicity in Western scholarship. The northern Black Sea region in Antiquity was a place of constant reciprocal contacts between the Greeks, local indigenous peoples and the Steppe nomads. For many years the North Pontic region was artificially divided between the Greek and ‘barbarian’ civilisations, however, the clear-cut division between ‘civilised’ Greeks (colonisers) and ‘barbarian’ non-Greeks (i.e. colonised) does not explain the complex nature of the interrelationships that existed in the Black Sea area. As demonstrated in this study, the process of developing local identities in the Greek apoikiai was a result of a common experience of migration and a new self-definition adopted by a group of people who needed to establish a new collective identity. At the same time, a feasible middle ground for relations between the Greeks and non-Greeks needed to be established, which does not appear to have been based on a structuralist system of opposition, us (i.e. Greek) versus them (the imaginary Other). At the same time, Greek representations of the North Pontic Others were a part of a large and complex barbarian repertoire that existed on a wider Panhellenic level. The images of the Other functioned as literary topoi that were constructed and consciously used in different contexts in order to create a desirable effect on the recipient (see Chapter 4). These contexts included Greek art, poetry and Athenian tragedy in which the barbarian Other played a different and a more important role. An important element of Greek perception of the North Pontic region was ancient imaginary geography, according to which Scythia was the northern limit of the known world. This idea in turn resulted in the association of this region with common topoi regarding the edges of the world (see Chapter 4.1). However, in certain instances the influence of Panhellenic 2 The usefulness of a language approach in the study of ethnicity has been questioned, for example by Renfrew 1989.

CONCLUSIONS

185

tradition on the North Pontic region seems to be present. An example of this is the iconography of Parthenos, especially as Elaphoktonos (deer-killing), which may have been introduced to the North Pontic area due to the Euripidean tragedy (see Chapter 3.3). Also, the Panhellenic motifs of Amazonomachy and Gryphomachy depicted on Kerch vases and other North Pontic objects may have reflected a local taste for myths that were familiar in the northern Black Sea milieu (see Chapter 4.5). As it can be seen, such a dichotomy between the Greeks and non-Greeks appears to have been artificially constructed in Greek thought for particular reasons which did not play an important role in the Black Sea ‘colonial’ context. It has been argued that the boundaries of an ethnic group do not have to be based on a sharp opposition to other groups. On the contrary, ethnic boundaries such as norms, beliefs and values that are constructed and maintained in order to preserve a group’s identity and define social relations with a neighbouring and familiar Other are based on common understanding and mutual interest, rather than the polarisation and conflict associated with us-them. Such a situation is characteristic of the so-called plural societies, namely societies composed of different ethnic groups or cultural traditions, which seems to correspond closely to the societies in the North Pontic region. In such plural societies ethnic relations and boundary constructions are less sharp and they more often try to describe the way in which we are distinct from them, instead of creating a one-sided view of the Other.3 It is reasonable to assume that non-Greeks were incorporated into the Greek apoikiai from the outset. Moreover, apart from non-Greeks, the population of the Greek cities undoubtedly included a number of Greeks who did not come from the mother city and thus, their sense of ethnic identity may have been different than the identity applied to a particular apoikia. A city’s cultural identity was established through the social, religious and political order reflected in the city’s nomima. This, however, did not have to exclude the existence of other groups that may have expressed their self-awareness so long as it did not affect the city’s cultural coherence that was maintained through the city institutions. Therefore, it does not seem appropriate to try to categorise a multicultural society by looking for clear ethnic markers in the archaeological material. It has been demonstrated that any attempt to find clear ethnic markers in the archaeological material fails due to the fact that a particular archaeological artefact or material form may remain the same, but their meaning will differ in every context. Moreover, artefacts may have circulated among different groups of people and consequently, such objects could easily cross cultural boundaries, 3

Barth 1994, 13.

186

CONCLUSIONS

as in the case of Graeco-Scythian metalwork and burial assemblages from the North Pontic region (see Chapter 1.4, Chapter 3.4). It should also be taken into consideration that the expression of ethnic identity may have been different than in modern times. The strong emphasis that is placed on biological affinity today may have not played such a crucial role in Antiquity.4 It has been argued that the self-image of the North Pontic Greek apokiai and their display of Greekness were crucial for the maintenance of cultural identity. The acceptance of a Greek cultural identity by other groups did not have to lead to acculturation; on the contrary, a sense of collective identity, which requires a certain (but not full) degree of integration, may have been successfully established in situations in which access to political and cultural participation in the city’s life resulted in mutual benefits among the members of the ‘collective’, as in the case of the Sarmatian influx into the city of Olbia after the Getic attack (see Chapter 3.4). A similar sense of collective identity seems to have been established in the city of Tanais that was founded by the Bosporan Greeks in the first quarter of the 3rd century BC. The city was founded mainly for economic reasons and functioned as an emporion that was strategically located on the delta of the Don, at the north-eastern limit of Greek settlement in the region.5 Such a location allowed the city to be an inter-regional trading point which linked the Steppe world with the Greek cities. The multicultural nature of Tanaitan society has been pointed out many times in literature.6 A non-Greek influence is visible in the language of the city’s inscriptions and also in a considerable amount of hand-made pottery that was used for various purposes, such as kitchenware, tableware, and also as transport containers.7 A mixed Greek-Barbarian tradition is also visible in the city’s civic institutions, according to which the Hellenes were headed by hellenarches, whereas the Tanaitai were headed by archons of the Tanaitai.8 Significantly, onomastic analysis of the epigraphic material has revealed that a considerable percentage of the city’s population bore Iranian (most likely Sarmatian) names; therefore, it seems possible that the division between the Hellenes and Tanaitai had an ethnic background. The inscriptions concerning the city institutions date mainly to the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD; however, three private thiasos inscriptions that have been recently published and re-edited are likely to confirm that such a division of the citizens into two social (or socio-ethnic) groups existed as early as the 2nd/1st century BC.9 4 5 6 7 8 9

See Lucy 2005; Gruen 2013. Podossinov 1996, 422–23. See, for example, Shelov 1961; 1970; 1972; Podossinov 1996, 422–24; Ivantchik 2008. Podossinov 1996, 423. See CIRB 1242, 1243, 1245, 1251a. Ivantchik 2008.

CONCLUSIONS

187

More importantly, the inscriptions indicate that both the Hellenes and Tanaitai could be members of the same thiasos. This is likely to indicate the importance of a common cult (presumably of the river god Tanais) that crossed traditional cultural and social barriers between these two groups of citizens.10 This in turn may have helped create and maintain the collective identity that existed among both Greek and non-Greek citizens for whom participation in the city’s religious and political life brought common benefits (see Chapter 3.4). The Hellenisation/acculturation approach, that is sometimes applied in the study of intercultural relationships in Greek apoikiai, does not take into consideration such phenomena as mutual interactions, hybridisation, exchange, reciprocity and the establishment of a middle ground between Greek and nonGreek communities in the ‘colonial’ milieu. The case studies discussed in this book regarding Olbia, Chersonesus and the Bosporan kingdom have demonstrated that multiculturalism appears to have existed in Greek poleis, even though a certain degree of cultural coherence was necessary for maintaining the Greek cultural identity of the poleis. The intentional display of Greekness was possible through such means as city institutions, local cults, local historiography, the creation of a common genealogy, and the expression of elite power. Worth pointing out is the importance of Greek genealogy among the Bosporan rulers (who were of non-Greek origin), since it appears to have been an ideological construct which was creatively used in order to express a sense of Greek identity, which was a crucial element of self-representation among the Bosporan elite. In turn, the existence of mixed genealogical traditions is likely to have reflected a multicultural character within Black Sea society, which is visible in Herodotus’ story concerning the origin of the Scythians. Such a story need not be perceived simply as an interpretatio graeca of a Scythian tale, since such an approach does not take into consideration the importance of a mixed genealogical tradition for North Pontic society. Such a story may have had multiple meanings and interpretations depending on whether the tale was told among families that maintained a more Greek or Scythian identity (see Chapter 3.1). Therefore, it seems more convincing to look for other kinds of oppositions that may have played a more important role in the process of expressing and maintaining cultural identities in the north Pontic area. One such opposition may have been expressed both in the physical and psychological borders between a polis (where Greek cultural identity was intentionally maintained through the city institutions), and the rural and steppe territories (where the development of a local cultural identity was not strictly controlled by the city). The importance 10

Ivantchik 2008, 100, 103.

188

CONCLUSIONS

of such an opposition between the city and the rural or/and steppe territory in the nature of cultural interrelationships in the North Pontic region is clearly visible in local cults. In the case of Chersonesus, the cult of Heracles appears to have held special importance in the rural territory, especially during the times of high prosperity for the city’s chora (the late 4th–early 3rd centuries BC) where the hero was mainly worshipped as a protector and patron. The worship of Heracles in the rural territories appears to have stood in contrast to Parthenos who was most likely the goddess and guardian of the city itself. Similarly, the cults of Apollo (with the epithets Ietros and Delphinios), Zeus, Athena and other gods from the Olympic pantheon that were worshipped in Olbia are almost absent outside the city, where in turn the cult of Achilles appears to have been very prominent (see Chapter 2.3). A similar opposition is visible between the urban and steppe zones that are associated with different traditions and a different lifestyle. The Orphic-Dionysiac cult in Olbia appears to have played an important role in expressing the city’s unity through the establishment of a close relationship between the territory and the citizens of the polis. Moreover, the cults of Demeter and Dionysus that are attested in Olbia had a distinctive chthonic nature that was related to agriculture which stayed in opposition to the nomadic traditions of the Scythians. This is likely to have been reflected in Herodotus’ stories about Scyles and Anacharsis in which such a juxtaposition of the rural and urban environments and their way of life is expressed. As discussed in Chapter 3.4, when Scyles comes to the city, he leaves his Scythian train outside, on the outskirts of Olbia. Once he crosses the zone of the city – the Greek space, he takes on Greek manners that include Greek dress, language and cult. As it can be seen, the urban zone is closed to outsiders (the rural population) who live in a Scythian, non-Greek way. This opposition is likely to be based on the concept of insiders and outsiders. The spatial boundaries are demarcated not only by the city walls, but also by two different cultural ways of life: urban (Greek) and rural (based on nomadic customs). The existence of a mixed Greek-Barbarian population is also an important aspect of cross-cultural relations in the North Pontic region. What seems striking is that such a population is always mentioned with regard to the territories that are situated outside a Greek city. Herodotus mentions the Callipidae, who were Greek Scythians that lived to the north-west of Olbia in the territory of Scythia (Herodotus 4. 17. 1). Similarly, the Geloni who are described as ‘barbarised’ Greeks are located in the territory of Scythia. According to Herodotus (Herodotus 4. 108), they inhabited the city of Gelonus together with the Scythian Boudini. Significantly, their lifestyle is described as being different from the indigenous nomadic Scythians, namely they are engaged in agriculture (see Chapter 3.1). Another ‘mixed’ population is mentioned in the Protogenes decree

CONCLUSIONS

189

in which the Mixhellenes are located in the vicinity of Olbia (IOSPE I2 32). The meaning of the term Mixhellenes has been variously interpreted by scholars who suggest that they were either a dependent servile population11 or a group of Greeks living in enclaves among the Barbarian population.12 However, the most obvious explanation is that the Mixhellenes were a mixed Greek and non-Greek rural population. This is likely to be expressed in local onomastics which clearly indicates both Greek and Scythian traditions of name-giving. There are Iranian names known from the Olbian chora such as Chimunakes (Χιμυνακες; 5th century BC), Kokonakos (Κοκονακος; 2nd half of the 4th century BC) and the partly preserved Phanisal (…) (Φανισαλ-; 1st quarter of the 3rd century BC) that have been found at settlements.13 There are also Iranian names preserved on a lead curse tablet dated to the early Hellenistic period that has been found on the south hill of the Olbian necropolis; these names are Thatorakos (Θατόρακος), Kaphakes (Καφακης) and perhaps Atakes (᾿Ατάκης), however, it may be a Greek Lallname.14 Also, two other Iranian names from the Olbian chora have been recently discovered on a curse tablet.15 The multicultural character of North Pontic chora has been pointed out with regard to the distant chora of Chersonesus. As discussed in Chapter 4.4, the settlement of Panskoye I in the north-western Crimea provides evidence for a mixed Greek and local tradition that existed among the inhabitants of this rural settlement.16 Importantly, a recent survey conducted in the inland region of the Tarkhankut Peninsula (which was previously considered to be inhabited by local nomadic communities) has identified over 200 new sites that are connected with rural Greek settlements that are similar to Panskoye I.17 This is likely to suggest that cross-cultural encounters between Greek and local populations in the western Crimea took place on a wider scale than it has been traditionally assumed.

11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Pippidi 1973. Von Bredow 1996; see also Braund 2007b, 66–67. Tokhtasev 2013, 576. Y.G. Vinogradov 1994. Stolba forthcoming. Stolba 2011; 2014; Stolba and Rogov 2012. Stolba and Andresen 2015.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Alatas, S.H. 1977: The Myth of the Lazy Native: A Study of the Image of the Malays, Filipinos and Javanese from the 16th to the 20th Century and its Function in the Ideology of Colonial Capitalism (London). Alekseev, A.Y. 2003: Khronografiya evropeiskoi Skifii (St Petersburg). Anderson, G. 1976: Studies in Lucian’s Comic Fiction (Mnemosyne Suppl. 43) (Leiden). Anokhin, V.A. 1980: The Coinage of Chersonesus, IV Century B.C.–XII Century A.D. (BAR International Series 69) (Oxford). —. 2011: Antichnye monety Severnogo Prichernomor’ya (Kiev). Anthony, D.W. 2007: The Horse, the Wheel, and Language: How Bronze-Age Riders from the Eurasian Steppes Shaped the Modern World (Princeton/Oxford). Antonaccio, C.M. 2001: ‘Ethnicity and Colonization’. In Malkin 2001, 113–57. —. 2003: ‘Hybridity and the Culture within Greek Culture’. In Dougherty and Kurke 2003b, 57–74. —. 2010: ‘Redefining Ethnicity: Culture, Material Culture, and Identity’. In Hales, S. and Hodos, T. (eds.), Material Culture and Social Identity in the Ancient World (Cambridge), 32–53. —. 2013: ‘Networking the Middle Ground? The Greek Diaspora, Tenth to Fifth Century BC’. In van Pelt, W.P. (ed.), Archaeology and Cultural Mixture (Archaeological Review from Cambridge 28.1) (Cambridge), 241–55. Antonetti, C. 1997: ‘Megara e le sue colonie: un’unità storico-culturale?’. In Antonetti, C. (ed.), Il dinamismo della colonizzazione greca (Atti della Tavola rotonda ‘Espansione e colonizzazione greca di età arcaica: metodologie e problemi a confronto’, Venezia, 10–11.11.1995) (Naples), 83–94. Archibald, Z.H. 2002: ‘The Shape of the New Commonwealth. Aspects of the Pontic and Eastern Mediterranean Regions in the Hellenistic Age’. In Tsetskhladze and Snodgrass 2002, 49–72. Arnold, B. 2002: ‘Sein und werden: Gender as Process in Mortuary Ritual’. In Nelson and Rosen-Ayalon 2002, 239–56. Artamonov, M.I. 1974: Kimmeriitsy i skify (Leningrad). Ascherson, N. 1995: Black Sea (London). Asheri, D. 1998: ‘The Achaeans and the Heniochi: Reflections on the Origins and History of a Greek Rhetorical Topos’. In Tsetskhladze 1998a, 265–85. Avram, A., Hind, J. and Tsetskhladze, G. 2004: ‘The Black Sea Area’. In Hansen, M.H. and Nielsen, T.H. (eds.), An Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis: An Investigation Conducted by the Copenhagen Polis Centre for the Danish National Research Foundation (Oxford), 927–73. Bäbler, B. 1998: Fleissige Thrakerinnen und wehrhafte Skythen: Nichtgriechen im Klassischen Athen und ihre archäologische Hinterlassenschaft (Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 108) (Stuttgart). —. 2002: ‘Long-haired Greeks in trousers: Olbia and Dio Chrysostom (Or. 36, Borystheniticus)’. ACSS 8, 311–27.

192

BIBLIOGRAPHY

—. 2005a: ‘Bobbies or boobies?: The Scythian police force in classical Athens’. In Braund 2005e, 113–22. —. 2005b: ‘Greek and barbarians on the Black Sea shore: material remains and literary perceptions’. In Kacharava, D., Faudot, M. and Geny, É. (eds.), Pont-Euxin et ‘polis’: ‘Polis hellenis’ et ‘polis barbaron’ (Actes du Xe Symposium de Vani, 23–26 septembre 2002, hommage à Otar Lordkipanidzé et Pierre Lévêque) (Publications de l’Institut des Sciences et Techniques de l’Antiquité 979) (Besançon), 49–62. Banks, M. 1996: Ethnicity: Anthropological Constructions (London). Barringer, J.M. 2004: ‘Skythian Hunters on Attic Vases’. In Marconi, C. (ed.), Greek Vases: Images, Contexts, and Controversies (Proceedings of the Conference sponsored by the Center for the Ancient Mediterranean at Columbia University, 23–24 March 2002) (Columbia Studies in the Classical Tradition 25) (Leiden/ Boston), 13–25. Barth, F. 1969: Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: The Social Organisation of Culture Difference (Bergen/London). —. 1994: ‘Enduring and Emerging Issues in the Analysis of Ethnicity’. In Vermeulen and Govers 1994, 11–32. Bekker-Nielsen, T. (ed.) 2006: Rome and the Black Sea Region: Domination, Romanisation, Resistance (Black Sea Studies 5) (Aarhus). Bekker-Nielsen, T. and Madsen, J.M. 2007: Dion af Prusa: En græsk intellektuel mellem Rom og Sortehavet (Aarhus). Beletskii, A.A. 1975: ‘Tri epigraficheskikh pamyatnika’. In Baran, V.D. (ed.), Noveishie otkrytiya sovetskikh arkheologov (Conference Abstracts), vol. 2 (Kiev), 91. Benedict, R. 1934: Patterns of Culture (Boston). Bernal, M. 1987: Black Athena: The Afroasiatic Roots of Classical Civilization (New Brunswick, NJ). Berseneva, N. 2008: ‘Women and Children in the Sagat Culture’. In Linduff and Rubinson 2008, 131–51. Bessonova, S.S. 1983: Religioznye predstavleniya skifov (Kiev). Bhabha, H.K. 1994: The Location of Culture (London). Bilde, P. Guldager 2003: ‘Wandering Images: From Taurian (and Chersonesean) Parthenos to (Artemis) Tauropolos and (Artemis) Persike’. In Bilde et al. 2003, 165–83. —. 2005: ‘Chto skifskogo bylo v skifskoi Diane iz Nemi?’. Archeologicheskie Vesti 12, 209–18. —. 2008: ‘Some Reflections on Eschatological Currents, Diasporic Experience, and Group Identity in the Nortwestern Black Sea Region’. In Bilde and Petersen 2008, 29–45. Bilde, P. Guldager, Bøgh, B., Handberg, S. et al. 2008: ‘Archaeology in the Black Sea Region in Classical Antiquity 1993–2007’. Archaeological Reports 54 (for 2007–08), 115–73. Bilde, P. Guldager and Petersen, J.H. (eds.) 2008: Meetings of Cultures in the Black Sea Region: Between Conflict and Co-existence (Black Sea Studies 8) (Aarhus). Blavatskaya, T.V. 1986: ‘Izvestiya Gerodota o budinskom grade Gelone i ego obitatelyakh’, SovA 4, 22–33. Blockley, R.C. 1981: The Fragmentary Classicising Historians of the Later Roman Empire: Eunapius, Olympiodorus, Priscus and Malchus, 2 vols. (Liverpool).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

193

Blok, J.H. 1995: The Early Amazons. Modern and Ancient Perspectives on a Persistent Myth (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 120) (Leiden/New York). Boardman, J. 1991: ‘Early Greek Pottery on Black Sea Sites?’. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 10.3, 387–90. —. 1999a: The Greeks Overseas: Their Early Colonies and Trade, 4th ed. (London). —. 1999b: ‘Preface’. In Solovyov 1999, xi–xii. Bøgh, B.S. 2009: Mother of the Gods: The Reception and Transformation of an Anatolian Goddess in the Western Black Sea Area (Dissertation, Aarhus). Bolton, J.D. 1962: Aristeas of Proconnesus (Oxford). Bondarenko, M.E. 2010: Tavry. Etnograficheskaya kharakteristika drevnikh plemen gornogo Kryma (I tys. do n.e.) (Moscow). Bonfante, L. (ed.) 2011: The Barbarians of Ancient Europe: Realities and Interactions (Cambridge). Bongard-Levin, G. 1999: ‘M.I. Rostovtzeff in England: a Personal Experience of West and East’. In Tsetskhladze 1999, 1–45. —. 2005: ‘E.H. Minns and M.I. Rostovtzeff. Glimpses of a Scythian friendship’. In Braund 2005e, 13–32. Bonnell, V.E. and Hunt, L. (eds.) 1999a: Beyond the Cultural Turn: New Directions in the Study of Society and Culture (Studies on the History of Society and Culture 34) (Berkeley/London). —. 1999b: ‘Introduction’. In Bonnell and Hunt 1999a, 1–32. von Bothmer, D. 1957: Amazons in Greek Art (Oxford). Bourdieu, P. 1977: Outline of a Theory of Practice (Cambridge). Bowersock, G.W. 2005: ‘The East-West Orientation of Mediterranean Studies and the Meaning of North and South in Antiquity’. In Harris 2005, 167–78. Braund, D. 1997a: ‘Greeks and Barbarians: The Black Sea Region and Hellenism under the Early Empire’. In Alcock, S.E. (ed.), The Early Roman Empire in the East (Oxford), 121–35. —. 1997b: ‘Scythian Archers, Athenian Democrary and a Fragmentary Inscription from Erythrae’. In Meshcheryakov, V.F. (ed.), Antichnyi mir. Vizantiya. K 70-letiyu professora Vladimira Kadeeva (Kharkov), 48–56. —. 1998: ‘Writing and Re-inventing Colonial Origins. Problems from Colchis and the Bosporus’. In Tsetskhladze 1998a, 287–96. —. 1999: ‘Greeks, Scythians and hippake, or reading mare’s-cheese’. In Tsetskhladze 1999, 521–25. —. 2002: ‘The Myths of Panticapaeum: Construction of Colonial Origins in the Black Sea Region’. In Tsetskhladze and Snodgrass 2002, 73–80. —. 2004a: ‘Herodotus’ Spartan Scythians’. In Tuplin, C.J. (ed.), Pontus and the Outside World: Studies in Black Sea History, Historiography, and Archaeology (Colloquia Pontica 9) (Leiden/Boston), 25–41. —. 2004b: ‘Tykhon the Taurian: a Cautionary Note on CIRB 114’. Drevnosti Bospora 7, 11–19. —. 2005a: ‘Greek Geography and Roman Empire: the Transformation of Tradition in Strabo’s Euxine’. In Dueck, D., Lindsay, H. and Pothecary, S. (eds.), Strabo’s Cultural Geography: The Making of a ‘Kolossourgia’ (Cambridge), 216–34. —. 2005b: ‘Introduction’. In Braund 2005e, 1–12. —. 2005c: ‘Notes on the History of Chersonesus before 442 B.C. and after’. Khersonesskii Sbornik 14, 53–58.

194

BIBLIOGRAPHY

—. 2005d: ‘Pericles, Cleon and the Pontus: The Black Sea in Athens c. 440–421’. In Braund 2005e, 80–99. —. (ed.) 2005e: Scythians and Greeks: Cultural Interactions in Scythia, Athens and the Early Roman Empire (Sixth Century BC–First Century AD) (Exeter). —. 2007a: ‘Black Sea Grain for Athens? From Herodotus to Demosthenes’. In Gabrielsen, V. and Lund, J. (eds.), The Black Sea in Antiquity: Regional and Interregional Exchange (Black Sea Studies 6) (Aarhus), 39–68. —. 2007b: ‘Greater Olbia: Ethnic, Religious, Economic, and Political Interactions in the Region of Olbia, c. 600–100 BC’. In Braund, D. and Kryzhitskiy, S.D. (eds.), Classical Olbia and the Scythian World (Proceedings of the British Academy 142) (Oxford), 37–77. —. 2007c: ‘Parthenos and the Nymphs at Crimean Chersonesos: Colonial Appropriation and Native Integration’. In Bresson et al. 2007, 191–200. —. 2007d: ‘Royal Scythians and the Slave-Trade in Herodotus’ Scythia’. Antichthon 42, 1–19. —. 2008: ‘Scythian Laughter: Conversations in the Northern Black Sea Region in the 5th Century BC’. In Bilde and Petersen 2008, 347–67. —. 2010: ‘Teutaros, the Sythian Teacher of Herakles’. In Catling, R.W.V. and Marchand, F. (eds.), Onomatologos: Studies in Greek Personal Names Presented to Elaine Matthews (Oxford), 381–89. —. 2011: ‘Heracles the Scythian: Herodotus, Herodorus and Colonial Cultures’. In Papuci-Władyka, et al. 2011, 15–19. —. 2018: Greek Religion and Cults in the Black Sea Region: Goddesses in the Bosporan Kingdom from the Archaic Period to the Byzantine Era (Cambridge). Bravo, B. 2000: ‘Pseudo-Herodotus and Pseudo-Thucydides on Scythia, Thrace and the Regions Beyond’. Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa 5.1/4, 21–112. von Bredow, I. 1996: ‘Der Begriff der Mixhellenes’. In Funck 1996, 467–74. Bresson, A., Ivantchik, A. and Ferrary, J.-L. (eds.) 2007: Une koinè pontique: cités grecques, sociétés indigenes et empires mondiaux sur le littoral nord de la mer Noire (VIIe s. a.C.–IIIe s. p.C.) (Ausonius. Mémoires 18) (Bordeaux). Buiskikh, A. 2007: ‘On the Question of the Stylistic Influences Reflected in the Architecture and Art of Chersonesos: Snake-legged goddess or Rankenfrau’. ACSS 13, 157–81. Bujskikh, S. 2007: ‘Der Achilleus-Kult und die griechische Kolonisation des unteren Bug-Gebietes’. In Bresson et al. 2007, 201–12. Bury, J.B. 1906: ‘The Homeric and the Historic Cimmerians’. Klio 6, 79–88. Campbell, G.L. 2006: Strange Creatures: Anthropology in Antiquity (London). Carstens, A.M. 2006: ‘Cultural contact and cultural change: colonialism and empire’. In Bekker-Nielsen 2006, 119–31. Cartledge, P. 1993: The Greeks: A Portrait of Self and Others (Oxford). Chaniotis, A. 2017: ‘Political Culture in the Cities of the Northern Black Sea Region in the Long Hellenistic Age (the Epigraphic Evidence)’. In Kozlovskaya, V. (ed.), The Northern Black Sea in Antiquity: Networks, Connectivity, and Cultural Interaction (Cambridge), 141–66. Chernykh, E.N. 1995: ‘Postscript: Russian archaeology after the collapse of the USSR – infrastructural crisis and the resurgence of old and new nationalisms’. In Kohl, P.L. and Fawcett, C. (eds.), Nationalism, Politics and the Practice of Archaeology (Cambridge), 139–48.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

195

Childe, V.G. 1930: The Bronze Age (London). —. 1936: Man Makes Himself (Cambridge). Cohen, A. 1974: ‘Introduction: the Lesson of Ethnicity’. In Cohen, A. (ed.), Urban Ethnicity (London), ix–xxiv. —. 1994: ‘Boundaries of Consciousness, Consciousness of Boundaries. Critical Questions for Anthropology’. In Vermeulen and Govers 1994, 59–80. —. 1996: ‘Ethnicity and Politics’. In Hutchinson and Smith 1996, 83–84. Cohen, B. (ed.) 2000: Not the Classical Ideal: Athens and the Construction of the Other in Greek Art (Leiden/Boston/Cologne). —. 2001: ‘Ethnic identity in democratic Athens and the visual vocabulary of male costume’. In Malkin 2001, 235–74. —. 2011: ‘The Self as Other: Performing Humor in Ancient Greek Art’. In Gruen 2001a, 465–90. Cojocaru, V. 2004: Populaţia zonei nordice şi nord-vestice a Pontului Euxin în secolele VI–I a.Chr. pe baza izvoarelor epigrafice (Iaşi). —. 2005: ‘Die Beziehungen zwischen Griechen und Barbaren im Norden und Nordwesten des Pontos Euxeinos zwischen dem 7. und dem 1. Jh. v. Chr. Zur Geschichte ihrer Erforschung’. In Cojocaru, V. (ed.), Ethnic Contacts and Cultural Exchanges North and West of the Black Sea from the Greek Colonization to the Ottoman Conquest (Iaşi), 155–66. —. 2005–06: ‘Despre aşanumitul Protectorat scitic asupra oraşelor greceşti nordvest pontice’. Peuce 3–4, 109–20. —. 2008: ‘Zum Verhältnis zwischen Steppenbevölkerung und griechischen Städten. Das skythische Protektorat als offene Frage’. Tyche 23, 1–20. Corcella, A. 2007: ‘Commentary on Book IV’. In Asheri, D., Lloyd, A.B. and Corcella, A. (eds.), A Commentary on Herodotus Books I–IV, ed. O. Murray and A. Moreno (Oxford), 580–82. Cozzoli, U. 1968: I Cimmeri (Rome). Dan, A. 2014: ‘Mythic Geography, Barbarian Identities: the Pygmies in Thrace’. ACSS 20, 39–66. —. 2017: ‘The Sarmatians: Some Thoughts on the Historiographical Invention of a West Iranian Migration’. In Wiedemann, F., Hofmann, K.P. and Gehrke, H.J. (eds.), Vom Wandern der Völker: Migrationserzählungen in den Altertumswissenschaften (Topoi: Berlin Studies of the Ancient World 41) (Berlin/Boston), 97– 134. Dana, M. 2011: Culture et mobilité dans le Pont-Euxin: Approche régionale de la vie culturelle des cités grecques (Scripta Antiqua 37) (Bordeaux). Davis-Kimball, J. 1997a: ‘Sauro-Sarmatian Nomadic Women: New Gender Identities’. Journal of Indo-European Studies 25, 327–43. —. 1997b: ‘Warrior Women of the Eurasian Steppes’. Archaeology 50.1, 44–48. —. 1997–98: ‘Amazons, Priestesses and Other Women of Status – Females in Eurasian Nomadic Societies’. Silk Road Art and Archaeology 5, 1–50. —. 1998: ‘Statuses of Eastern Early Iron Age Nomads’. In Pearce, M. and Tosi, M. (eds.), Papers from the EAA Third Annual Meeting at Ravenna 1997 (BAR International Series 717) (Oxford), 142–47. —. 2001: ‘Warriors and Priestesses of the Eurasian Nomads’. In Biehl, P.F., Bertemes, F. and Meller, H. (eds.), The Archaeology of Cult and Religion (Archaeolingua 13) (Budapest), 243–59.

196

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Davis-Kimball, J. and Behan, M. 2002: Warrior Women: An Archaeologist’s Search for History’s Hidden Heroines (New York). Davis-Kimball, J. and Yablonsky, L. 1995: Kurgans on the Left Bank of the Ilek: Excavations at Pokrovka 1990–1992 (Berkeley). De Angelis, F. 1998: ‘Ancient Past, Imperial Present: the British Empire in T.J. Dunbabin’s The Western Greeks’. Antiquity 72, 539–49. de Souza, P. 1999: Piracy in the Graeco-Roman World (Cambridge). Deloria, P.J. 2006: ‘What is the Middle Ground, Anyway?’. The William and Mary Quarterly 63.1, 15–22. Derzhavin, N.S. 1944: Proiskhozhdenie Russkogo naroda: velikorusskogo, ukrainskogo, belorusskogo (Leningrad). —. 1946: Slavyane v drevnosti (Leningrad). Diakonoff, I.M. 1981: ‘The Cimmerians’. In Monumentum Georg Morgenstierne I (Acta Iranica 21) (Leiden), 103–40. Diatroptov, P.D. 2001: Kul’t geroev v antichnom Severnom Prichernomor’e (Moscow). Díaz-Andreu, M., Lucy, S., Babic, S. and Edwards, D.N. (eds.) 2005: The Archaeology of Identity: Approaches to Gender, Age, Status, Ethnicity and Religion (London/ New York). Dietler, M. 2005: ‘The Archaeology of Colonization and the Colonization of Archaeology: Theoretical Challenges from an Ancient Mediterranean Colonial Encounter’. In Stein 2005, 33–68. —. 2009: ‘Colonial Encounters in Iberia and the Western Mediterranean: an Explanatory Framework’. In Dietler and López-Ruiz 2009, 3–48. Dietler, M. and López-Ruiz, C. (eds.) 2009: Colonial Encounters in Ancient Iberia: Phoenician, Greek and Indigenous Relations (Chicago). Diller, A. 1952: The Tradition of the Minor Greek Geographers (Philological Monographs 14) (Lancaster, PA). Dolukhanov, P. 1995: ‘Archaeology in Russia and its Impact on Archaeological Theory’. In Ucko, P. (ed.), Theory in Archaeology: A World Perspective (London/New York), 342–72. —. 2010: ‘Archaeology in Colonial and Postcolonial U.S.S.R.’. In Lydon and Rizvi 2010, 113–23. Dougherty, C. 1993: The Poetics of Colonization: From City to Text in Archaic Greece (Oxford). Dougherty, C. and Kurke, L. 2003a: ‘Introduction: The Cultures within Greek Culture’. In Dougherty and Kurke 2003b, 1–19. —. (eds.) 2003b: The Cultures within Ancient Greek Culture: Contact, Conflict, Collaboration (Cambridge). Dovatur, A.I., Kallistov, D.P. and Shishova, I.A. 1982: Narody nashei strany v Istorii Gerodota: teksty, perevod, kommentarii (Moscow). Dragadze, T. 1980: ‘The Place of Ethnos Theory in Soviet Anthropology’. In Geller 1980, 161–70. Dubois, L. 1996: Inscriptions grecques dialectales d’Olbia du Pont (Geneva). Eller, J. and Coughlan, R. 1996: ‘The Poverty of Primordialism’. In Hutchinson and Smith 1996, 45–51. Eriksen, T.H. 1996: ‘Ethnicity, Race, Class and Nation’. In Hutchinson and Smith 1996, 28–31. Erlikh, V.P. 1994: ‘V zashchitu traditsii o prichernomorskom proiskhozhdenii kimmeriitsev’. VDI 3, 168–76.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

197

Fedoseev, N.F. 1997: ‘Zum achämenidischen Einfluß auf die historische Entwicklung der nordpontischen griechischen Staaten’. Archäologische Mitteilungen aus Iran und Turan 29, 309–19. —. 2007: ‘The Necropolis of Kul Oba and Juz Oba’. In Grammenos and Petropoulos 2007, 979–1022. Flesher Fominaya, C. 2010: ‘Collective Identity in Social Movements: Central Concepts and Debates’. Sociology Compass 4/6, 393–404. Fless, F. 2002: Rotfigurige Keramik als Handelsware: Erwerb und Gebrauch attischer Vasen im mediterranen und pontischen Raum während des 4. Jhs. v.Chr. (Internationale Archäologie 71) (Rahden). —. 2008: ‘Taste at the Periphery of the Greek World: The Iberian Peninsula and the Black Sea’. In Lapatin, K. (ed.), Papers on Special Techniques in Athenian Vases (Proceedings of a Symposium held in Connection with the Exhibition The Colors of Clay: Special techniques in Athenian Vases, at the Getty Villa, June 15–17, 2006) (Los Angeles), 225–34. Fless, F. and Lorenz, A. 2005a: ‘Griechen, Skythen, Bosporaner? Zu den Problemen ethnischer Etikettierungen von Gräbern in den Nekropolen Pantikapaions’. Eurasia Antiqua 11, 57–77. —. 2005b: ‘Die Nekropolen Pantikapaions im 4. Jh v. Chr.’. In Fless and Treister 2005, 17–26. Fless, F. and Treister, M. (eds.) 2005: Bilder und Objekte als Träger kultureller Identität und interkultureller Kommunikation im Schwarzmeergebiet (Kolloquium in Zschorau/Sachsen vom 13.2–15.2.2003) (Internationale Archäologie. Arbeitsgemeinschaft, Symposium, Tagung, Kongress 6) (Rahden). Foxhall, L., Gehrke, H.-J. and Luraghi, N. (eds.) 2010: Intentional History: Spinning Time in Ancient Greece (Stuttgart). Foxhall, L. and Luraghi, N. 2010: ‘Introduction’. In Foxhall et al. 2010, 9–14. Frachetti, M.D. 2011: ‘Migration Concepts in Central Eurasian Archaeology’. Annual Review of Anthropology 40, 195–212. Funck, B. (ed.) 1996: Hellenismus: Beiträge zur Erforschung von Akkulturation und politischer Ordnung in den Staaten des hellenistischen Zeitalters (Akten des Internationalen Hellenismus-Kolloquiums, 9.–14. März 1994 in Berlin) (Tübingen). Gabrielsen, V. 2003: ‘Piracy and the Slave-Trade’. In Erskine, A. (ed.), A Companion to the Hellenistic World (Malden, MA/Oxford), 389–404. Gajdukevič, V.F. 1971: Das Bosporanische Reich (Berlin). Geddes, A.G 1987: ‘Rags and Riches: The Costume of Athenian Men in the Fifth Century’. The Classical Quarterly 37.2, 307–31. Gehrke, H.J. 2010: ‘Greek Representations of the Past’. In Foxhall et al. 2010, 15–33. —. 2005: ‘Heroen als Grenzgänger zwischen Griechen und Barbaren’. In Gruen 2005, 50–67. —. 2001: ‘Myth, History, and Collective Identity: Uses of the Past in Ancient Greece and Beyond’. In Luraghi, N. (ed.), The Historian’s Craft in the Age of Herodotus (Oxford), 286–313. Geller, E. 1975: ‘The Soviet and the Savage [and Comments and Replies]’. Current Anthropology 16.4, 595–617. —. (ed.) 1980: Soviet and Western Anthropology (London). Giangiulio, M. 2001: ‘Constructing the Past: Colonial Traditions and the Writing of History. The Case of Cyrene’. In Luraghi, N. (ed.), The Historian’s Craft in the Age of Herodotus (Oxford), 116–37.

198

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Gleba, M. 2008: ‘You Are What You Wear: Scythian Costume as Identity’. In Gleba, M., Munkholt, C. and Nosch, M.-L. (eds.), Dressing the Past (Ancient Textiles 3) (Oxford), 13–28. Golenko, V.K. 2007: Drevnii Kimmerik i ego okruga (Simferopol). González-Ruibal, A. 2010: ‘Colonialism and European Archaeology’. In Lydon and Rizvi 2010, 39–50. Goroncharovskij, V. 2010: ‘A Silver Rhyton with a Representation of a Winged Ibex from the Fourth Semibratniy Tumulus: Cultural Influences in Sindike in the Fifth to Fourth Century BC’. In Nieling, J. and Rehm, H. (eds.) 2010: Achaemenid Impact in the Black Sea: Communication of Powers (Black Sea Studies 11) (Aarhus), 87–101. Gorshenina, S. 2012: ‘L’archéologie russe en Asie centrale en situation coloniale: quelques approches’. In Burgunder, P. (ed.), Études pontiques: histoire, historiographie et sites archéologiques du basin de la mer Noire (Études de lettres 1–2) (Lausanne), 183–222. Gosden, C. 2004: Archaeology and Colonialism: Cultural Contact from 5000 BC to the Present (Cambridge). Grach, N.L. 1999: Nekropol’ Nimfeya (St Petersburg). Graham, A.J. 1958: ‘The Date of the Greek Penetration of the Black Sea’. Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 5.1, 25–42. Grakov, B.N. 1947: ‘ΓΥΝΑΙΚΟΚΡΑΤΟΥΜΕΝΟΙ: perezhitki matriarkhata u sarmatov’. VDI 3, 100–21. Grammenos, D.V. and Petropoulos, E.K. (eds.) 2003: Ancient Greek Colonies in the Black Sea [1] (Dēmosieumata tou Archaiologikou Institoutou Voreias Helladas 4) (Salonica). —. (eds.) 2007: Ancient Greek Colonies in the Black Sea 2 (BAR International Series 1675) (Oxford). Greaves, A.M. 2002: Miletos. A History (London/New York). Gruen, E.S. 1993: ‘Cultural Fictions and Cultural Identity’. Transactions of the American Philological Association 123, 1–14. —. (ed.) 2005: Cultural Borrowings and Ethnic Appropriations in Antiquity (Oriens et Occidens 8) (Stuttgart). —. (ed.) 2011a: Cultural Identity in the Ancient Mediterranean (Los Angeles). —. 2011b: ‘Herodotus and Persia’. In Gruen 2011a, 67–85. —. 2011c: Rethinking the Other in Antiquity (Princeton). —. 2013: ‘Did Ancient Identity Depend of Ethnicity? A Preliminary Probe’. Phoenix 67.1–2, 1–22. Guliaev, V.I. 2003: ‘Amazons in the Scythia: New Finds at the Middle Don, Southern Russia’. World Archaeology 35.1, 112–25. Gumilev, L.N. 1993: Ritmy Evrazii: epokhi i tsivilizatsii (Moscow). —. 2014: Ot Rusi do Rossii (Moscow). Halbwachs, M. 1950: La mémoire collective (Paris). Hall, E. 1987: ‘The Geography of Euripides’ Iphigeneia among the Taurians’. The American Journal of Philology 108.3, 427–33. —. 1989a: ‘The Archer Scene in Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae’. Philologus 133, 38–54. —. 1989b: Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-definition through Tragedy (Oxford). —. 2006: The Theatrical Cast of Athens: Interactions between Ancient Greek Drama and Society (Oxford).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

199

—. 2010: Greek Tragedy: Suffering under the Sun (Oxford). —. 2013: Adventures with Iphigenia in Tauris: A Cultural History of Euripides’ Black Sea Tragedy (Oxford/New York). Hall, J.M. 1997: Ethnic Identity in Greek Antiquity (Cambridge). —. 2002: Hellenicity: Between Ethnicity and Culture (Chicago). —. 2003: ‘Culture or Cultures? Hellenism in the Late Sixth Century’. In Dougherty and Kurke 2003b, 23–34. —. 2014: Artifact and Artifice: Classical Archaeology and the Ancient Historian (Chicago/London). Hall, S. 1996: ‘Introduction: Who Needs Identity?’. In Hall and du Gay 1996, 1–17. Hall, S. and du Gay, P. (eds.) 1996: Questions of Cultural Identity (London). Hanks, B. 2008: ‘Reconsidering Warfare, Status, and Gender in the Eurasian Steppe Iron Age’. In Linduff and Rubinson 2008, 15–34. Harris, W.V. (ed.) 2005: Rethinking the Mediterranean (Oxford). Harrison, T. (ed.) 2002: Greeks and Barbarians (Edinburgh). —. 2020: ‘Reinventing the Barbarian’. Classical Philology 115.2, 139–63. Hartog, F. 1988: The Mirror of Herodotus: The Representation of the Other in the Writing of History (Berkeley/London). Heinen, H. 2001: ‘Greeks, Iranians and Romans on the Northern Shore of the Black Sea’. In Tsetskhladze 2001b, 1–23. Heinimann, F. and Kienze, E. (eds.) 1987: Adagiorum chilias secunda (= Opera Omnia Desiderii Erasmi Roterodami, vol. 2.4) (Amsterdam). Herman, G. 1987: Ritualised Friendship and the Greek City (Cambridge). —. 1990: ‘Patterns of Name Diffusion within the Greek World and Beyond’. The Classical Quarterly 40.2, 349–63. Herter, H. 1931: ‘Kallimachos aus Kyrene’. RE, Suppl. V, 386–452. Heubeck, A. and Hoekstra, A. 1989: A Commentary on Homer’s ‘Odyssey’ 2: Books 9–16 (Oxford). Hind, J.G.F. 1984: ‘Greeks and Barbarian Peoples on the Shores of the Black Sea’. Archaeological Reports 30 (for 1983–84), 71–97. —. 1993: ‘Archaeology of the Greeks and Barbarian Peoples around the Black Sea (1982–1992)’. Archaeological Reports 39 (for 1992–93), 82–112. —. 1994: ‘The Bosporan Kingdom’. Cambridge Ancient History VI, 2nd ed., 476–511. —. 2001: ‘A Sea ‘like a Scythian bow’ and Herodotus’ ‘rugged peninsula’ (Hist. 4.99)’. In Tsetskhladze 2001b, 25–31. Hinge, G. 2008: ‘Dionysos and Herakles in Scythia – the Eschatological String of Herodotos’ Book 4’. In Bilde and Petersen 2008, 369–97. Hölscher, T. 2011: ‘Myth, Images, and the Typology of Identities in Early Greek Art’. In Gruen 2011a, 47–65. Horden, P. and Purcell, N. 2000: The Corrupting Sea: A Study of Mediterranean History (Malden, MA/Oxford). Horowitz, W. 1988: ‘The Babylonian Map of the World’. Iraq 50, 147–65. Howgego, C., Heuchert, V. and Burnett, A. (eds.) 2005: Coinage and Identity in the Roman Provinces (Oxford). Højte, J.M. 2008: ‘The Cities that Never Were. Failed Attempts at Colonization in the Black Sea’. In Bilde and Petersen 2008, 149–62. Hugh, G.F. 1961: ‘Soviet Classical Scholarship and the Black Sea Region’. The Classical Journal 56.5, 194–202.

200

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Hupe, J. 2005: ‘Der Dedikantenkreis des Achilleus als ein Gradmesser von Akkulturationsprozessen im kaiserzeitlichen Olbia. Ein Beitrag zur olbischen Onomastik’. In Fless and Treister 2005, 27–42. —. (ed.) 2006a: Der Achilleus-Kult im nördlichen Schwarzmeerraum vom Beginn der griechischen Kolonisation bis in die römische Kaiserzeit: Beiträge zur Akkulturationsforschung (Internationale Archäologie 94) (Rahden). —. 2006b: ‘Die olbische Achilleus-Verehrung in der römischen Kaiserzeit’. In Hupe 2006a, 165–234. —. 2006c: ‘Synthese: Akkulturationsprozesse im Spiegel des Achilleus-Kultes’. In Hupe 2006a, 235–39. —. 2007: ‘Aspekte des Achilleus Pontarches-Kultes in Olbia’. In Bresson et al. 2007, 213–23. Hurst, H. and Owen, S. (eds.) 2005: Ancient Colonizations: Analogy, Similarity and Difference (London). Hutchinson, J. and Smith, A.D. (eds.) 1996: Ethnicity (Oxford/New York). Ilinskaya, V.A. and Terenozhkin, A.I. 1983: Skifiya VII–IV vv. do n.e. (Kiev). Insoll, T. (ed.) 2006: The Archaeology of Identities: A Reader (London/New York). Isaac, B. 2004: The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity (Princeton). Ivantchik [Ivanchik/Iwanczik], A.I. 1987: ‘O kimmeriitsach Aristeya Prokonnesskogo (Hdt. IV, 13)’. In Gindin, L.A., Golubtsova, E.S. and Kaluzhskaya, I.A. (eds.), Antichnaya Balkanistika (Moscow), 48–55. —. 1993a: Les Cimmériens au Proche-Orient (Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 127) (Fribourg). —. 1993b: ‘La datation du poème l’Arimaspée d’Aristéas de Proconnèse’. L’Antiquité Classique 62, 35–67. —. 1994: ‘K voprosu ob etnicheskoi prinadlezhnosti i archeologicheskoi kul’ture kimmeriitsev. I. Kimmeriiskie pamyatki Perednei Azii’. VDI 3, 148–68. —. 1995: Kimmerowie: archeologia a źródła pisane (Poznań). —. 1997: ‘Das Problem der ethnischen Zugehörigkeit der Kimmerier und die kimmerische archäologische Kultur’. Praehistorische Zeitschrift 72.1, 12–53. —. 1999a: ‘Une légende sur l’origine des Scythes (Hdt. IV, 5–7) et le problème des sources du Scythikos logos d’Hérodote’. Revue des Études Grecques 112, 141–92. —. 1999b: ‘Mlekoedy i Abii Iliady. Gomerovskii passazh v antichnoi literature i problemy vozniknoveniya idealizatsii skifov’. In Podossinov, A.V. (ed.), Drevneishie gosudarstva vostochnoi Evropy 1996–1997 gg. Severnoe Prichernomor’e v antichnosti. Voprosy istochnikovedeniia (Moscow), 7–45. —. 1999c: ‘The Scythian Rule over Asia. The Classical Tradition and the Historical Reality’. In Tsetskhladze 1999, 497–520. —. 2001a: Kimmerier und Skythen. Kulturhistorische und chronologische Probleme der Archäologie der osteuropäischen Steppen und Kaukasiens in vor- und frühskythischer Zeit (Moscow). —. 2001b: ‘La légende grecque sur l’origine des Scythes (Hérodote 4.8–10)’. In Fromentin, V. and Gotteland, S. (eds.), Origines gentium (Ausonius. Études 7) (Bordeaux), 207–20. —. 2001c: ‘Eshche raz o grecheskoi legende o proiskhozhdenii skifov (Herod., IV, 8–10)’. Mif (Sofia) 7 (Na akad. Dimitri Sergeevich Raevski), 324–50. —. 2005a: Am Vorabend der Kolonisation: Das nördliche Schwarzmeergebiet und die Steppennomaden des 8.–7. Jhs. v. Chr. in der klassischen Literaturtradition:

BIBLIOGRAPHY

201

Mündliche Überlieferung, Literatur und Geschichte (Pontus Septentrionalis 3) (Berlin/Moscow). —. 2005b: ‘Le dêmos et la polis des Cimmériens dans l’Odyssée (XI, 14)’. In Kacharava, D., Faudot, M. and Geny, É. (eds.), Pont-Euxin et ‘polis’: ‘Polis hellenis’ et ‘polis barbaron’ (Actes du Xe Symposium de Vani, 23–26 septembre 2002, hommage à Otar Lordkipanidzé et Pierre Lévêque) (Publications de l’Institut des Sciences et Techniques de l’Antiquité 979) (Besançon), 83–98. —. 2005c: ‘Who Were the Scythian Archers on Archaic Attic Vases?’. In Braund 2005e, 100–13. —. 2008: ‘Greeks and Iranians in the Cimmerian Bosporus in the Second/First Century BC: New Epigraphic Data from Tanais’. In Barbandi, S.M.R. and Zournatzi, A. (eds.), Ancient Greece and Ancient Iran: Cross- Cultural Encounters (1st International Conference, Athens, 11–13 November 2006) (Athens), 93–107. —. 2013: ‘Amazonen, Skythen und Sauromaten: Alte und Moderne Mythen’. In Schubert, C. and Weiß, A. (eds.), Amazonen zwischen Griechen und Skythen: Gegenbilder in Mythos und Geschichte (Berlin/Boston), 73–87. Ivantchik, A.I. and Krapivina, V.V. 2007: ‘Nouvelles données sur le collège des agoranomes d’Olbia à l’époque romaine’. In Bresson et al. 2007, 111–23. Jijina, N.A. 2007: ‘Sarcophagus Appliqué: Serpent-legged Goddess’. In Trofimova 2007b, 201–02. Jones, C.P. 1978: The Roman World of Dio Chrysostom (Cambridge, MA/London). Jones, S. 1997: The Archaeology of Ethnicity: Constructing Identities in the Past and Present (London/New York). Jones-Bley, K. 2008: ‘Arma Feminamque Cano: Warrior-women in the Indo-European World’. In Linduff and Rubinson 2008, 35–50. Kadeev, V.I. 1974: ‘Ob etnicheskoi prinadlezhnosti nositelei imeni Σκύθας v Khersonese Tavricheskom’. SovA 3, 56–63. Kalashnik, Y.P. 2007: ‘The History of the Exploration of the Northern Black Sea Region and Ancient Monuments at the Hermitage’. In Trofimova 2007b, 1–7. Kaplan, L. 2002: ‘Inuit or Eskimo: Which Name to Use?’. Alaska Native Language Center, University of Alaska Fairbanks (Consulted 11.02.2015). Karjaka, A.V. 2008: ‘The Defense Wall in the Northern Part of the Lower City of Olbia Pontike’. In Bilde and Petersen 2008, 163–79. Khrapunov, I.N. 2012: The Crimea in the Early Iron Age: An Ethnic History (Simferopol/ Kristiansand). —. 2018: ‘The Taurians’. In Manoledakis et al. 2018, 333–68. Khrapunov, I.N. and Vlasov, V.P. 1995: ‘Kizil-kobinskoe poselenie Shpil’. In Mogarichev, Y.M. and Khrapunov, I.N. (eds.), Problemy arkheologii drevnego i srednevekovogo Kryma (Simferopol), 3–31. —. 1998: ‘Novoe kizil-kobinskoe poselenie v gornom Krymu’. Arkheologicheskie Vesti 5, 176–86. Kindstrand, J.F. 1981: Anacharsis: The Legend and the Apophthegmata (Studia Graeca Upsaliensia 16) (Uppsala). King, C. 2004: The Black Sea: A History (Oxford). Kjellberg, L. 1916: ‘Iphigeneia’. RE 9, 2588–2622. Kleiner, G., Hommel, P. and Müller-Wiener, W. 1967: Panionion und Melie (Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts. Ergänzungsheft 23) (Berlin).

202

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Klejn, L.S. 1993: ‘To Separate a Centaur: On the Relationship of Archaeology and History in Soviet Tradition’. Antiquity 67 (255), 339–48. —. 2012: Soviet Archaeology: Trends, Schools and History (Oxford). Klitsche-Sowitzki, U. 2011: ‘Eurasianismus und Neoeurasianismus in Russland. Historischer Abriss und Funktionsanalyse des Raumkonzeptes Eurasien’. In LehmannCarli et al. 2011, 81–160. Kolotukhin, V.A. 1996: Gornyi Krym v epokhu pozdnei bronzy – nachale zheleznogo veka (etnokul’turnye protsessy) (Kiev). Korenjak, M. 2002: ‘Die Taurer – sesshafte Hirten?’. Göttinger Forum für Altertumswissenschaft 5, 221–23. Kossack, G. 1987: ‘Von den Anfängen des skytho-iranischen Tierstils’. In Galanina, L., Grač, N., Kellner, H.-J. and Kossack, G. 1987: Skythika: Vorträge zur Entstehung des skytho-iranischen Tierstils und zu Denkmälern des Bosporanischen Reichs anlässlich einer Ausstellung der Leningrader Ermitage in München 1984, ed. H. Franke (Munich), 24–86. Kossinna, G. 1911: Die Herkunft der Germanen: zur Methode der Siedlungsarchäologie (Leipzig). —. 1926–27: Ursprung und Verbreitung der Germanen in vor- und frühgeschichtlicher Zeit, 2 vols. (Berlin). Kothe, H. 1969: ‘Der Skythienbegriff bei Herodot’. Klio 51, 15–88. Kovalevskaya, L.A. and Shevchenko, A.V. 2003: ‘Altarik s izobrazheniem Devy c khory Khersonesa’. Khersonesskii Sbornik 12, 89–91. Kozlovskaya, V. (ed.) 2017: The Northern Black Sea in Antiquity: Networks, Connectivity, and Cultural Interaction (Cambridge). Kravchenko, E.A. 2009: ‘Materialy rann’ogal’shtats‘kogo chasu poselennya UchBash’. Arkheologiya (Kiev) 1, 26–40. —. 2010a: ‘Khronologiya molodshogo dotavrs‘kogo periodu Kyzyl-Kobyns‘koi kul‘tury’. Arkheologiya (Kiev) 1, 11–26. —. 2010b: Kyzyl-Kobyns’ka kul’tura v zakhidnomu Krymu (Kiev). Kreuz, P.A. 2012: Die Grabreliefs aus dem Bosporanischen Reich (Colloquia Antiqua 6) (Leuven/Paris/Walpole, MA). Kris, C.I. 1955: ‘Razvedki na poselenii epokhi pozdnei bronzy i rannego zheleza v balke Ashlama bliz Bakhchisaraya’. SovA 24, 184–96. —. 1961: ‘K voprosu o periodizatsii kizil-kobinskoi kul‘tury’. SovA 4, 66–77. Kristensen, A.K.G. 1988: Who Were the Cimmerians, and Where Did they Come from? Sargon II, the Cimmerians, and Rusa I (Historisk-filosofiske meddelelser 57) (Copenhagen). Kryzhitskiy, S.D. 2005: ‘Olbia and the Scythians in the fifth century BC: the Scythian protectorate’. In Braund 2005e, 123–30. Kutaisov, V.A. 1987: ‘Kizil-kobinskaya keramika iz raskopok Kerkinitidy’. In Aibabin, A.I., Vysotskaja, T.N. and Zubar, V.M. (eds.), Materialy k etnicheskoi istorii Kryma VII v. do n.e.–VII v. n.e. (Kiev), 27–40. Kuznetsov, V.D. 1999: ‘Early Types of Greek Dwelling Houses in the North Black Sea’. In Tsetskhladze 1999, 531–64. Langner, M. 2005: ‘Barbaren griechischer Sprache? – Die Bildwelt des Bosporanischen Reiches und das Selbstverständnis seiner Bewohner’. In Fless and Treister 2005, 53–66. Lebedev, A. 1996: ‘A New Epigram for Harmodios and Aristogeiton’. Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 112, 263–68.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

203

Lebedynsky, I. 2001: Les Scythes: la civilisation des steppes (VIIe–IIIe siècles av. J.-C.) (Paris). Legrand, S. 2008: ‘Sorting out Men and Women in the Karasuk Culture’. In Linduff and Rubinson 2008, 153–74. Lehmann-Carli, G., Droshin, Y. and Klitsche-Sowitzki, U. (eds.) 2011: Russland zwischen Ost und West? Gratwanderungen nationaler Identität (Berlin). Lehmann-Haupt, F. 1921: ‘Kimmerier’. RE 11, 397–434. Leskov, A.M. 1965: Gornyi Krym v 1 tysyacheletii do nashei ery (Kiev). —. 1980: ‘Die Taurer’. Antike Welt 11.4, 39–53. —. 1981: Kurgany: nakhodki, problemy (Leningrad). Lesky, A. 1959: ‘Aithiopika’. Hermes 87.1, 27–38. Lévi-Strauss, C. 1963: Structural Anthropology (New York). —. 1969: The Raw and the Cooked. Introduction to a Science of Mythology (London). Lévy, E. 1981: ‘Les origines du mirage scythe’. Ktèma 6, 57–68. Lewis, M.W. and Wigen, K.E. 1997: The Myth of Continents: A Critique of Metageography (Berkeley/Los Angeles/London). Liebmann, M. 2008: ‘Introduction: The Intersections of Archaeology and Postcolonial Studies’. In Liebmann and Rizvi 2008, 1–20. Liebmann, M. and Rizvi, U.Z. (eds.) 2008: Archaeology and the Postcolonial Critique (Lanham, MD). Linduff, K. and Rubinson, K.S. (eds.) 2008: Are All Warriors Male?: Gender Roles on the Ancient Eurasian Steppe (Lanham, MD). Lissarrague, F. 1987: The Aesthetics of the Greek Banquet: Images of Wine and Ritual (Princeton). —. 1990: L’autre guerrier: Archers, peltastes, cavaliers dans l’imagerie attique (Paris). —. 2002: ‘The Athenian Image of the Foreigner’. In Harrison 2002, 101–24. Lloyd-Jones, H. 1983: ‘Artemis and Iphigeneia’. Journal of Hellenic Studies 103, 87–102. Lordkipanidze, O.D. (ed.) 1979: Problemy grecheskoi kolonizatsii severnogo i vostochnogo Prichernomor’ya (Materialy I Vsesoyuznogo simpoziuma po drevnei istorii Prichernomor’ya, Tskhaltubo, 1977) (Tbilisi). —. (ed.) 1981: Demograficheskaya situatsiya v Prichernomor’e v period velikoi grecheskoi kolonizatsii (Materialy II Vsesoyuznogo simpoziuma po drevnei istorii Prichernomor’ya, Tskhaltubo, 1979) (Tbilisi). Lovejoy, A.O. and Boas, G. 1997: Primitivism and Related Ideas in Antiquity (Baltimore/London). Lucy, S. 2005: ‘Ethnic and Cultural Identities’. In Díaz-Andreu et al. 2005, 86–109. Lydon, J. and Rizvi, U.Z. (eds.) 2010: Handbook of Postcolonial Archaeology (Walnut Creek, CA). McWilliams, S. 2013: ‘Hybridity in Herodotus’. Political Research Quarterly 66.4, 745–55. Machortych, S.V. and Ievlev, M.M. 1992: ‘Über die Anfangsperiode der Geschichte der Kimmerier’. Acta Archaeologica Carpathica 31, 107–21. Makhortykh, S.V. and Skoryi, S.A. 2004: ‘O kimmeriiskoi (novocherkasskoi) gruppe pamyatnikov yuga Vostochnoi Evropy’. In Chochorowski, J. (ed.), Kimmerowie, Scytowie, Sarmaci: księga poświęcona pamięci profesora Tadeusza Sulimirskiego (Cracow), 231–57. Maksimova, M.I. 1954: ‘Serebryanoe zerkalo iz Kelermesa’. SovA 21, 281–305. Malkin, I. 1987: Religion and Colonization in Ancient Greece (Studies in Greek and Roman Religion 3) (Leiden).

204

BIBLIOGRAPHY

—. 1994: Myth and Territory in the Spartan Mediterranean (Cambridge). —. 1998: The Returns of Odysseus: Colonization and Ethnicity (Berkeley/London). —. (ed.) 2001: Ancient Perceptions of Greek Ethnicity (Center for Hellenic Studies Colloquia 5) (Washington, DC). —. 2003a: ‘Networks and the Emergence of Greek Identity’. Mediterranean Historical Review 18.2, 56–74. —. 2003b: ‘Tradition in Herodotus: The Foundation of Cyrene’. In Derow, P. and Parker, R. (eds.), Herodotus and his World: Essays from a Conference in Memory of George Forrest (Oxford), 153–70. —. 2004: ‘Postcolonial Concepts and Ancient Greek Colonization’. Modern Language Quarterly 65.3, 341–64. —. 2005: ‘Herakles and Melqart: Greeks and Phoenicians in the Middle Ground’. In Gruen 2005, 238–57. —. 2009: ‘Foundations’. In Raaflaub, K.A. and van Wees, H. (eds.), A Companion to Archaic Greece (Malden, MA/Oxford), 373–94. —. 2011: A Small Greek World: Networks in the Ancient Mediterranean (Oxford). Manoledakis, M., Tsetskhladze, G.R. and Xydopoulos, I. (eds.) 2018: Essays on the Archaeology and Ancient History of the Black Sea Littoral (Colloquia Antiqua 18) (Leuven/Paris/Bristol, CT). Mantsevich, A.P. 1950: ‘Greben’ i fiala iz kurgana Solokha’. SovA 13, 217–38. Marchenko, K.K. 2013: ‘Khora Ol’vii’. Stratum Plus 3, 17–130. Marčenko, K.K. and Vinogradov, Ju.A. 1989: ‘The Scythian Period in the Northern Black Sea Region (750–250 B.C.)’. Antiquity 63, 803–13. Marcotte, D. (ed. and transl.) 2000: Les Géographes Grecs 1: Introduction générale; Ps.-Scymnos, Circuit de la terre (Collection des universités de France 403) (Paris). Marincola, J., Llewellyn-Jones, L. and Maciver, C.A. (eds.) 2012: Greek Notions of the Past in the Archaic and Classical Eras: History without Historians (Edinburgh Leventis Studies 6) (Edinburgh). Marshall, F. 2005: ‘Mediterranean Reception in the Americas’. In Harris 2005, 294–313. Maslennikov, A.A. 1980: ‘O naselenii pribrezhnykh raionov vostochnogo Kryma v VI–I vv. do n.e.’. SovA 1, 5–17. Mayor, A. 2014: The Amazons: Lives and Legends of Warrior Women across the Ancient World (Princeton/Oxford). Mayor, A. and Heaney, M. 1993: ‘Griffins and Arimaspeans’. Folklore 104, 40–66. Melucci, A. 1995: ‘The Process of Collective Identity’. In Johnston, H. and Klandermans, B. (eds.), Social Movements and Culture (Social Movements, Protest, and Contention 4) (Minneapolis), 41–63. Melyukova, A.I. (ed.) 1989: Stepi evropeiskoi chasti SSSR v skifo-sarmatskoe vremya (Moscow). Meyer, C. 2009: ‘Rostovtzeff and the Classical Origins of Eurasianism’. Anabases 9, 185–98. —. 2011: ‘Iranians and Greeks after 90 Years: A Religious History of Southern Russia in Ancient Times’. AWE 10, 75–159. —. 2013: Greco-Scythian Art and the Birth of Eurasia. From Classical Antiquity to Russian Modernity (Oxford). —. 2020: ‘From Scythian Ethnography to Aryan Christianity: Herodotean Revolutions on the Eve of the Russian Revolution’. In Harrison, T. and Skinner, J. (eds.), Herodotus in the Long Nineteenth Century (Cambridge), 200–23.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

205

Mielczarek, M. 2005: ‘Coinage of Nikonion. Greek Bronze Cast Coins between Istrus and Olbia’. In Alfaro, C., Marcos, C. and Otero, P. (eds.), Proceedings of the 13th International Numismatics Congress, Madrid, 2003 (Madrid), 273–76. Miller, M.C. 1991: ‘Foreigners at the Greek Symposium?’. In Slater, J. (ed.), Dining in a Classical Context (Ann Arbor), 59–81. —. 1997: Athens and Persia in the Fifth Century BC: A Study in Cultural Receptivity (Cambridge). Minns, E.H. 1913: Scythians and Greeks: A Survey of Ancient History and Archaeology on the North Coast of the Euxine (Cambridge). Mitchell, L.G. 1997: Greeks Bearing Gifts: The Public Use of Private Relationships in the Greek World, 435–323 BC (Cambridge). —. 2007: Panhellenism and the Barbarian in Archaic and Classical Greece (Swansea). Moles, J.L. 1995: ‘Dio Chrysostom, Greece and Rome’. In Innes, D., Hine, H. and Pelling, C. (eds.), Ethics and Rhetoric: Classical Essays for Donald Russell on his Seventy-Fifth Birthday (Oxford), 177–92. Mordvintseva, V. 2008: ‘Phalerae of Horse Harnesses in Votive Depositions of the 2nd–1st Century BC in the North Pontic Region and the Sarmatian Paradigm’. In Bilde and Petersen 2008, 47–65. —. 2013a: ‘Istoricheskie sarmaty i sarmatskaya archeologicheskaya kul’tura v Severnom Prichernomor’e’. In Khrapunov, I. (ed.), Krym v sarmatskuyu epokhu (II v. do n.e.–IV v. n.e.). 1: Sbornik nauchnykh statei (Simferopol/Bakhchisarai), 14–43. —. 2013b: ‘The Sarmatians: The Creation of Archaeological Evidence’. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 32.2, 203–19. —. 2015: ‘Sarmaty, Sarmatiya i Severnoe Prichernomor’e’. VDI 1, 109–35. Moreno, A. 2007a: ‘Athenian Wheat-Tsars: Black Sea Grain and Elite Culture’. In Gabrielsen, V. and Lund, J. (eds.), The Black Sea in Antiquity: Regional and Interregional Exchange (Black Sea Studies 6) (Aarhus), 70–84. —. 2007b: Feeding the Democracy: The Athenian Grain Supply in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries BC (Oxford). Morris, I. 2000: Archaeology as Cultural History: Words and Things in Iron Age Greece (Oxford). von der Mühll, P. 1959: ‘Der Kimmerier der Odyssee und Theopomp’. Museum Helveticum 16.3, 145–51. Müller, C. 2010: D’Olbia à Tanaïs. Territories et réseaux d’échanges dans la mer Noire septentrionale aux époques classique et hellénistique (Scripta Antiqua 28) (Bordeaux). Murzin, V.Y. 1984: Skifskaya arkhaika Severnogo Prichernomor’ya (Kiev). Neikhardt, A.A. and Shishova, I.A. 1982: Skifskii rasskaz Gerodota v otechestvennoi istoriografii (Leningrad). Nelson, S.M. (ed.) 2006: Handbook of Gender in Archaeology (Lanham, MD). —. 2008: ‘Horses and Gender in Korea: The Legacy of the Steppe on the Edge of Asia’. In Linduff and Rubinson 2008, 111–27. Nelson, S.M. and Rosen-Ayalon, M. (eds.) 2002: In Pursuit of Gender: Worldwide Archaeological Approaches (Walnut Creek, CA). Nikolaenko, G.M. 2006: ‘The Chora of Tauric Chersonesos and the Cadastre of the 4th–2nd Century BC’. In Bilde, P. Guldager and Stolba, V.F. (eds.), Surveying the Greek Chora. The Black Sea Region in a Comparative Perspective (Black Sea Studies 4) (Aarhus), 151–74.

206

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Noonan, T.S. 1973: ‘The Grain Trade of the Northern Black Sea in Antiquity’. American Journal of Philology 94, 231–42. Novichenkova, N.G. 2002: Ustroistvo i obryadnost’ svyatilishcha u perevala Gurzufskoe Sedlo (Yalta). —. 2008: ‘Mountainous Crimea: A Frontier Zone of Ancient Civilization’. In Bilde and Petersen 2008, 287–301. Ober, J. 2003: ‘Postscript: Culture, Thin Coherence, and the Persistence of Politics’. In Dougherty and Kurke 2003b, 237–55. Okhotnikov, S.B. and Ostroverkhov, A.S. 1993: Svyatilishche Akhilla na ostrove Levke (Zmeinom) (Kiev). Olkhovskii, V.S. 2004: ‘Skifskaya monumental’naya skul’ptura (k probleme dostovernosti istochnika)’. In Chochorowski, J. (ed.), Kimmerowie, Scytowie, Sarmaci: księga poświęcona pamięci profesora Tadeusza Sulimirskiego (Cracow), 349–59. Oller Guzmán, M. 2008: ‘Ifigenia ξενοκτόνος’. Faventia 30.1–2, 223–40. —. 2014: ‘Recherches sur la prosopographie des magistrates d’Olbia du Pont d’après les inscriptions pour Achille Pontarchès’. In Cojocaru, V., Coşkun, A. and Dana, M. (eds.), Interconnectivity in the Mediterranean and Pontic World during the Hellenistic and Roman Periods (Proceedings of the International Symposium, Constanţa, July 8–12, 2013) (Pontica et Mediterranea 3) (Cluj-Napoca), 505–24. Olsen, S. and Harding, D.G. 2008: ‘Women’s Attire and Possible Sacred Role in 4th Millennium Northern Kazakhstan’. In Linduff and Rubinson 2008, 67–92. Oreshnikov, A. 1912: ‘Monety Khersonesa Tavricheskago’. Numizmaticheskii Sbornik 2, 1–48. —. 1918: ‘Khersonas’, bozhestvo Khersonesa Tavricheskogo’. Izvestiya Imperatorskoi Arkheologicheskoi Komissii 65, 144–52. —. 1922: ‘Olitsetvorenie obshchiny Khersonesa Tavricheskogo na monetakh’. Izvestiya Rossiiskoi Akademii Istorii Material’noi Kul’tury 2, 159–64. Ormerod, H.A. 1978: Piracy in the Ancient World: An Essay in Mediterranean History (Liverpool). Osborne, R. 1998: ‘Early Greek Colonization? The Nature of Greek Settlement in the West’. In Fisher, N. and van Wees, H. (eds.), Archaic Greece: New Approaches and New Evidence (London), 251–70. —. 2007: ‘Projecting Identities in the Greek Symposion’. In Sofaer, J. (ed.), Material Identities (Malden, MA/Oxford), 31–52. Owen, S. 2005: ‘Analogy, Archaeology and Archaic Greek Colonization’. In Hurst and Owen 2005, 5–22. Panchenko, D. 1998: ‘The Perpetual Darkness of the Cimmerians: An Explanation’. Hyperboreus 4.2, 396–98. Papuci-Władyka, E. 2018: ‘An Essay on Recent Archaeological Research on the Northern Black Sea Coast’. In Manoledakis et al. 2018, 273–332. Papuci-Władyka, E., Vickers, M., Bodzek, J. and Braund, D. (eds.) 2011: Pontika 2008: Recent Research on the Northern and Eastern Black Sea in Ancient Times (Proceedings of the International Conference, 21st–26th April 2008, Kraków) (BAR International Series 2240) (Oxford). Patterson, T.C. 2003: Marx’s Ghost: Conversations with Archaeologists (Oxford/New York). —. 2008: ‘A Brief History of Postcolonial Theory and Implications for Archaeology’. In Liebmann and Rizvi 2008, 21–34.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

207

Petersen, J.H. 2010: Cultural Interactions and Social Strategies on the Pontic Shores: Burial Customs in the Northern Black Sea Area c. 550–270 BC (Black Sea Studies 12) (Aarhus). Petropoulos, E.K. 2005: Hellenic Colonization in Euxeinos Pontos: Penetration, Early Establishment, and the Problem of the ‘Emporion’ Revisited (BAR International Series 1394) (Oxford). Pinault, M.G. 2008: ‘La langue des Scythes et le nom des Arimaspes’. Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 152.1, 105–38. Pippidi, D.M. 1959: ‘Sur un passage obscur du decret en l’honneur de Diophante, fils d’Asclepiodore’. Arkheologiya (Kiev) 9, 80–98. —. 1973: ‘Le problème de la main-d’œuvre agricole dans les colonies grecques de la mer Noire’. In Finley, M.I. (ed.), Problèmes de la terre en Grèce ancienne (Paris), 63–82. Podos[s]inov, A.V. 1987: Ovids Dichtung als Quelle für die Geschichte des Schwarzmeergebiets (Xenia 19) (Konstanz). —. 1996: ‘Barbarisierte Hellenen – hellenisierte Barbaren. Zur Dialektik ethnokultureller Kontakte in der Region des Mare Ponticum’. In Funck 1996, 415–25. —. 2006: ‘Legendy ob osnovanii grecheskikh kolonii Severnogo Prichernomor’ya: istoricheskoe predanie i/ili literaturnaya fikciya’. In Solovyov, S.L. (ed.), Greki i varvary na Bospore Kimmeriiskom VII–I vv. do n.e. (St Petersburg), 138–41. —. 2009: ‘Barbarians and Greeks in the Northern Pontus in the Roman Period: Dio Chrysostom’s Account of Olbia, and Archaeology’. AWE 8, 147–68. Polin, S.V. 1992: Ot Skifii k Sarmatii (Kiev). Polletta, F. and Jasper, J.M. 2001: ‘Collective Identity and Social Movements’. Annual Review of Sociology 27, 283–305. Popova, E.A. and Kovalenko, S.A. 1996: ‘On the Cult of Herakles in the North-Western Crimea: Recent Finds from the Chaika Settlement’. In Tsetskhladze, G.R. (ed.), New Studies on the Black Sea Littoral (Colloquia Pontica 1) (Oxford), 63–71. Popova, R. 2011: ‘The Cult of Artemis-Iphigenia in the Tauric Chersonesus: The Movement of an aition’. Orpheus 18, 57–68. Porucznik, J. 2017: ‘The Cult of Chersonasos in Tauric Chersonesos – Numismatic and Epigraphic Evidence Revisited’. ACSS 23, 63–89. —. 2018: ‘Heuresibios Son of Syriskos and the Question of Tyranny in Olbia Pontike (Fifth–Fourth century BC)’. The Annual of the British School at Athens 2018, 1–16. Raaflaub, K.A. 2000: ‘Zeus Eleutherios, Dionysos the Liberator, and the Athenian Tyrannicides. Anachronistic Uses of Fifth-Century Political Concepts’. In FlenstedJensen, P., Nielsen, T. Heine and Rubinstein, L. (eds.), Polis and Politics: Studies in Ancient Greek History. Presented to Mogens Herman Hansen on His Sixtieth Birthday, August 20, 2000 (Copenhagen), 249–75. —. 2004: The Discovery of Freedom in Ancient Greece (Chicago). Raevskii, D.S. 1977: Ocherki ideologii skifo-sakskikh plemen: opyt rekonstrukcii skifskoi mifologii (Moscow). —. 1985: Model’ mira skifskoi kul’tury (Moscow). —. 2006: Mir skifskoi kul’tury (Smolensk). Ravdonikas, V.I. 1932: ‘Peshchernye goroda Kryma i gotskaya problema v svyazi so stadial’nym razvitiem Severnogo Prichernomor’ya’. Izvestiya Gosudarstvennoi Akademii Istorii Material’noi Kul’tury 12.1–8, 5–106.

208

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Redfield, J. 1985: ‘Herodotus the Tourist’. Classical Philology 80.2, 97–118. Rehm, E. 2010: ‘The Classification of Objects from the Black Sea Region Made or Influenced by the Achaemenids’. In Nieling, J. and Rehm, H. (eds.), Achaemenid Impact in the Black Sea: Communication of Powers (Black Sea Studies 11) (Aarhus), 161–94. Renfrew, A.C. 1989: Archaeology and Language: The Puzzle of Indo-European Origins (Harmondsworth). Riva, C. and Vella, N.C. (eds.) 2006: Debating Orientalization. Multidisciplinary Approaches to Change in the Ancient Mediterranean (Monographs in Mediterranean Archaeology 10) (London/Oakville, CT). Robu, A. 2014: Mégare et les établissements mégariens de Sicile, de la Propontide et du Pont-Euxin: Histoire et institutions (Berne/Berlin etc.). Rolle, R. 1989: The World of the Scythians (Berkeley/Los Angeles/London). —. 1991: ‘Skythen in Griechenland – Griechen im Skythenland’. In Rolle, R., MüllerWille, M. and Schietzel, K. (eds.), Gold der Steppe: Archäologie der Ukraine (Exhibition Catalogue) (Neumünster/Schleswig), 203–05. —. 2011: ‘The Scythians: Between Mobility, Tomb Architecture, and Early Urban Atructures’. In Bonfante 2011, 107–31. Rolle, R., Murzin, V.J. and Šramko, B.A. 1991: ‘Das Burgwallsystem von Bel’sk (Ukraine). Eine frühe stadtartige Anlage im skythischen Landesinnern’. Hamburger Beiträge zur Archäologie 18, 57–84. Romm, J.S. 1992: The Edges of the Earth in Ancient Thought: Geography, Exploration and Fiction (Princeton/Oxford). Roosens, E. 1994: ‘The Primordial Nature of Origins in Migrant Ethnicity’. In Vermeulen and Govers 1994, 81–104. Rostovtzeff [Rostowzew], M.I. 1913: ‘Predstavlenie o monarkhicheskoi vlasti v Skifii i na Bospore’. Izvestiya Imperatorskoi Arkheologicheskoi Komissii 49, 1–62. —. 1918: Ellinstvo i iranstvo na yuge Rossii (Petrograd). —. 1922: Iranians and Greeks in South Russia (Oxford). —. 1931: Skythien und der Bosporus. I: Kritische Übersicht der schriftlichen und archäologischen Quellen (Berlin). —. 1993: Skythien und der Bosporus. II: Wiederentdeckte Kapitel und Verwandtes, ed. H. Heinen (Historia Einzelschriften 83) (Stuttgart). Rubinson, K. 2002: ‘Through the Looking Glass: Reflections on Mirrors, Gender, and Use among Nomads’. In Nelson and Rosen-Ayalon 2002, 67–72. —. 2008: ‘Tillya Tepe: Aspects of Gender and Cultural Identity’. In Linduff and Rubinson 2008, 51–63. Rudenko, S.I. 1953: Kul’tura naseleniya Gornogo Altaya v skifskoe vremya (Moscow). —. 1970: Frozen Tombs of Siberia: The Pazyryk Burials of Iron Age Horsemen (London). Rusya[y]eva, A.S. 1992: Religiya i kul’ty antichnoi Ol’vii (Kiev). —. 2005: Religiya pontiiskikh ellinov v antichnuyu epokhu (Kiev). —. 2007: ‘Religious Interactions Between Olbia and Scythia’. In Braund, D. and Kryzhitskiy, S.D. (eds.), Classical Olbia and the Scythian World (Proceedings of the British Academy 142) (Oxford), 93–102. —. 2010: ‘Obraz Partenos Elafokhtonos na monetakh Khersonesa Tavriiskogo (Ikonografichnyi aspekt)’. In Chebykin, A.V. (ed.), Ukrainska Akademiya Mystetstva: special’nyi vypusk do 50-richchya fakul’tetu teorii ta istorii mystetstva (Kiev), 126–36. Rusyaeva, A.S. and Krapivina, V.V. 1992: ‘Do istorii Ol’vii IV–I st. do n.e.’. Arkheologiya (Kiev) 4, 17–34.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

209

Rusyaeva, A.S. and Rusyaeva, M.V. 2004: Ol’viya Pontiiskaya: gorod schast’ya i pechali (Kiev). —. 1999: Verkhovnaya boginiya antichnoi Tavriki (Kiev). Rusjaeva, A.S. and Vinogradov, Ju.G. 1991: ‘Der Brief des Priesters aus Hylaia’. In Rolle, R., Müller-Wille, M. and Schietzel, K. (eds.), Gold der Steppe: Archäologie der Ukraine (Exhibition Catalogue) (Neumünster/Schleswig), 201–02. Russell, D.A. 1992: Dio Chrysostom, Orations VII, XII, XXXVI (Cambridge). Saïd, E. 1978: Orientalism (London). Samoylova, T.L. and Cojocaru, V. 2002: ‘Novye dannye o kul’takh i kul’tovykh antichnykh postroikakh v Tire’. In Tolochko, P.P. (ed.), Severnoe Prichernomor’e v antichnoe vremya (Kiev), 109–13. Saprykin, S.Y. [S.Ju.] 1996: ‘Emporii Tavrikon i Skivskaya gavan’ Kalos Limen v keramicheskikh kleimakh Khersonesa Tavricheskogo’. VDI 1, 124–35. —. 1997: Heracleia Pontica and Tauric Chersonesus before Roman Domination (VI–I Centuries BC) (Amsterdam). —. 2005: Religiya i kul’ty Ponta ellinisticheskogo i rimskogo vremeni (Moscow/Tula). Schmitt, R. 2011: Iranisches Personennamenbuch. V: Iranische Namen in Nebenüberlieferungen indogermanischer Sprachen. Fasc. 5A: Iranische Personennamen in der griechischen Literatur vor Alexander d. Gr. (Iranische Onomastik 9; Sitzungsberichte, Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-Historische Klasse 823) (Vienna). Schubert, C. 2010: Anacharsis der Weise: Nomade, Skythe, Grieche (Leipziger Studien zur Klassischen Philologie 7) (Tübingen). Seaford, R. 1994: Reciprocity and Ritual: Homer and Tragedy in the Developing CityState (Oxford). Senatorov, S.N. 1998: ‘Poselenie pozdnego etapa kizil-kobinskoi kul’tury Karan’–2’. Khersonesskii Sbornik 9, 8–16. —. 2000: ‘Rannaya kizil-kobinskaya keramika iz raskopok v Khersonese’. Arkheologicheskie Vesti 7, 159–63. —. 2003: ‘Kizil-kobinskaya keramika kontsa VI–pervoi poloviny IV vv. do n.e. iz raskopok v Khersonese’. Khersonesskii Sbornik 12, 14–28. Sewell, W. 1999: ‘The Concept(s) of Culture’. In Bonnell and Hunt 1999a, 35–61. Shanks, M. and Tilley, C. 1987: Social Theory and Archaeology (Albuquerque). Shapiro, H.A. 1983: ‘Amazons, Thracians, and Scythians’. Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 24.2, 105–14. Shaub, I.Y. 1999: ‘Kul’t Velikoi Bogini u mestnogo naseleniya Severnogo Prichernomor’ya’. Stratum Plus 3, 207–23. —. 2007: Mif, kul’t, ritual v Severnom Prichernomor’e (VII–IV vv. do n.e.) (St Petersburg). Shaw, B.D. 1982–83: ‘Eaters of Flesh, Drinkers of Milk: The Ancient Mediterranean Ideology of the Pastoral Nomad’. Ancient Society 13–14, 5–31. Shcheglov, A.N. 1981: ‘Tavry i grecheskie kolonii v Tavrike’. In Lordkipanidze 1981, 204–18. Shelach, G. 2008: ‘He Who Eats the Horse, She Who Rides It? Symbols of Gender Identity on the Eastern Edges of the Eurasian Steppe’. In Linduff and Rubinson 2008, 93–109. Shelov [Schelow], D.B. 1961: ‘Ellinskie i varvarskie elementy v Tanaise v svete novykh dannykh’. In Irmischer, J. and Schelow, D.B. (eds.), Griechische Städte und einheimische Völker des Schwarzmeergebietes (Berlin), 112–22. —. 1970: Tanais i Nizhnii Don v III–I vv. do n.e. (Moscow).

210

BIBLIOGRAPHY

—. 1972: Tanais i Nizhnii Don v pervye veka nashei ery (Moscow). Shennan, S.J. 1991: ‘Some Current Issues in the Archaeological Identification for Past Peoples’. Archaeologia Polona 29, 29–37. Shepherd, G. 2005: ‘The Advance of the Greek: Greece, Great Britain and Archaeological Empires’. In Hurst and Owen 2005, 23–44. Sherk, R.K. 1992: ‘The Eponymous Officials of Greek Cities IV. The Register Part III: Thrace, Black Sea Area, Asia Minor (Continued)’. Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 93, 223–72. Shevchenko, A.V. 1997: ‘K voprosu o kul’te Artemidy v Khersonese (dannye koroplastiki)’. In Meshcheryakov, V.F. (ed.), Antichnyi mir. Vizantiya. K 70-letiyu professora Vladimira Kadeeva (Kharkov), 253–59. Shnirelman, V.A. 1995: ‘From Internationalism to Nationalism: Forgotten Pages of Soviet Archaeology in the 1930s and 1940s’. In Kohl, P.L. and Fawcett, C. (eds.), Nationalism, Politics and the Practice of Archaeology (Cambridge), 120–38. Shramko, B.A. 1975: ‘Krepost’ skifskoi epokhi u s. Bel’sk – gorod Gelon’. In Terenozhkin, A.I. (ed.), Skifskii mir (Kiev), 94–132. —. 1987: Bel’skoe gorodishche skifskoi epokhi (gorod Gelon) (Kiev). Shults, P.N. 1950: ‘Istoriko-arkheologicheskie issledovaniya v Krymu’. Krym 6, 145–57. Skinner, J. 2010: ‘Fish Heads and Mussel-Shells: Visualizing Greek Identity’. In Foxhall et al. 2010, 137–60. —. 2012: The Invention of Greek Ethnography: From Homer to Herodotus (Oxford). Skrzhinskaya, M.V. 1988: ‘Real’nye i vymyshlennye cherty Severnogo Prichernomor’ya v tragedii Evripida Ifigeniya v Tavride’. In Novoseltsev, A.P. (ed.), Drevneishie gosudarstva na territorii SSSR. Materialy i issledovaniya: 1986 god (Moscow), 176–91. —. 1989: ‘O stepeni dostovernosti chislovykh dannykh v skifskom rasskaze Gerodota’. VDI 4, 79–91. —. 2001: Skifiya glazami ellinov (St Petersburg). —. 2010: ‘Predaniya o grifonakh na severnom krayu grecheskoi Oikumeny’. In Jackson, T.N., Konovalova, I.G. and Tsetskhladze, G.R. (eds.), Gaudeamus Igitur: Studies to Honour the 60th Birthday of A.V. Podossinov/Gaudeamus Igitur: Sbornik statei k 60-letiyu A.B. Podosinova (Moscow), 346–55. Smirnov, K.F. 1957: ‘Problema proiskhozhdeniya rannikh sarmatov’. SovA 3, 3–19. —. 1964: Savromaty. Rannaya istoriya i kul’tura sarmatov (Moscow). —. 1982: ‘Amazonka IV veka do n.e. na Donu’. VDI 1, 120–31. —. 1984: Sarmaty i utverzhdenie ikh politicheskogo gospodstva v Skifii (Moscow). —. 1989: ‘Savromatskaya i rannesarmatskaya kul’tury’. In Melyukova 1989, 165–77. Smith, A.C. 2012: ‘Personification: Not Just a Symbolic Mode’. In Smith, T.J. and Plantzos, D. (eds.), A Companion to Greek Art (Malden, MA/Oxford), 440–55. Snodgrass, A.M. 2005: ‘Lesser Breeds: The History of a False Analogy’. In Hurst and Owen 2005, 45–58. Snow, D.R. 1996: ‘The First Americans and the Differentiation of Hunter-Gatherer Cultures’. In Trigger, B.G. and Washburn, W.E. (eds.), The Cambridge History of the Native Peoples of the Americas. 1: North America, Part 1 (Cambridge), 125–99. Solomonik, E.I. 1968: ‘O kul’te Artemidy v Khersonese’. In Tolochko, P.P. (ed.), Arkheologicheskie issledovaniya na Ukraine v 1967 g. Informatsionnye soobshcheniya (Kiev), 155–57. —. 1978: Graffiti antichnogo Khersonesa (na chernolakovykh sosudakh) (Kiev).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

211

Solovyov, S.L. 1998: ‘Archaic Berezan: Historical-Archaeological Essay’. In Tsetskhladze 1998a, 205–26. —. 1999: Ancient Berezan: The Architecture, History and Culture of the First Greek Colony in the Northern Black Sea (Colloquia Pontica 4) (Leiden/Boston/Cologne). Stafford, E.J. 1998: ‘Masculine Values, Feminine Forms: On the Gender of Personified Abstractions’. In Foxhall, L. and Salmon, J. (eds.), Thinking Men: Masculinity and Its Self-Representation in the Classical Tradition (London/New York), 43–56. Stein, G.J. (ed.) 2005: Archaeology of Colonial Encounters: Comparative Perspectives (Santa Fe, NM/Oxford). Stolba, V.F. 1989: ‘Novoe posvyashchenie iz Severo-Zapadnogo Kryma i aspekty kul’ta Gerakla v Khersonesskom gosudarstve’. VDI 4, 55–70. —. 1993a: ‘Demograficheskaya situatsiya v Krymu v V–II vv. do n.e. (po dannym pis’mennykh istocchnikov)’. Peterburgskii Arkheologicheskii Vestnik 6, 56–61. —. 1993b: ‘Neskol’ko lichnykh imen v grecheskikh keramicheskikh nadpisyakh iz Khersonesa’. Arkheologicheskie vesti 2, 107–13. —. 1996a: ‘Barbaren in der Prosopographie von Chersonesos’. In Funck 1996, 439–66. —. 1996b: ‘La couronne de la déesse Parthénos: À propos d’un aspect du monnayage de Chersonèse au IVe–IIe siècle av. J.C.’. Association des amis du Cabinet des médailles 9, 11–20. —. 2002: ‘Handmade Pottery’. In Hannestad, L., Stolba, V.F. and Ščeglov, A.N. (eds.), Panskoye I. Vol. 1: The Monumental Building U6 (Aarhus), 180–200. —. 2004a: ‘Guderne i Chersones: Parthenos og Herakles’. In Højte, J. and Bilde, P. Guldager (eds.), Mennesker og guder ved Sortehavets kyster (Aarhus), 53–64. —. 2004b: ‘Karkinitis and the Bay of Karkinitis: Towards an Evaluation of the Classical Literary Tradition’. ACSS 10.1–2, 47–66. —. 2007: ‘The Numismatics of Chersonesos and Kerkinitis as Evidence of Greek and Barbarian Interrelations in Western Tauris’. In Bresson et al. 2007, 85–97. —. 2009: ‘The Fifth-Century BC Tyrranic Issues of the Northern Black Sea Coast: Local Phenomenon or Achaemenid Influence?’. In XIV International Numismatic Congress, Glasgow 2009: Abstracts of Papers (Glasgow). —. 2011: ‘Multicultural Encounters in the Greek Countryside: Evidence from the Panskoye I Necropolis, Western Crimea’. In Papuci-Władyka et al. 2011, 329–40. —. 2013: ‘A Prosopographical Note on IOlbia 71 (Dubois IGDOlbia 11)’. Mnemosyne 66, 293–302. —. 2014: Greek Countryside in Ancient Crimea: Chersonesean Chora in the Late Classical to Early Hellenistic Period. Doctoral Dissertation. Résumé (Dissertation, Aarhus). —. forthcoming: Greeks and the Scythians in a new ‘defixio’ from Olbia. Stolba, V.F. and Andresen, J. 2015: ‘Unveiling the Hinterland: A New Type of Hellenistic Rural Settlement in North-Western Crimea’. Antiquity 89 (344), 345–60. Stolba, V.F. and Rogov, E. 2012: ‘Tomb Structures and Burial Rites’. In Stolba, V.F. and Rogov, E. (eds.), Panskoye I. Vol. 2: The Necropolis (Aarhus), 13–52. Suprunenko, O.B. (ed.) 1996: Bil’ske gorodyshche v konteksti vyvchennya pam’yatok rann’ogo zaliznogo viku Evropy (Poltava). Szemerényi, O. 1980: Four Old Iranian Ethnic Names: Scythian – Skudra – Sogdian – Saka (Veröffentlichungen der Iranischen Kommission 9; Sitzungsberichte, Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-Historische Klasse 371) (Vienna).

212

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Tachtadžjan [Takhtadzhyan], S.A. 2003: ‘Ephoros F 42 und Platon’. Hyperboreus 9.1, 78–82. —. 1992: ‘ΑΜΑΧΟΙ ΣΚΥΘΑΙ Gerodota i posleduyushchaya idealizatsiya skifov Eforom’. In Gavrilov, A.K. (ed.), Etyudy po antichnoi istorii i kul’ture Severnogo Prichernomor’ya (St Petersburg), 43–52. Taylor, M.W. 1991: The Tyrant Slayers: The Heroic Image in Fifth Century BC Athenian Art and Politics, 2nd ed. (Salem). Terenozhkin, A.I. 1976: Kimmeriitsy (Kiev). Testart, A. 2002: ‘Les Amazones, entre mythe et réalité’. L’Homme 163, 185–93. Tikhonov, I.L. 2008: ‘Eto neobchodimo sdelat’, chtoby ne proslyt’ za varvarov: Rossiiskie monarkhi i arkheologiya’. Vestnik Sankt-Peterburgskogo Universiteta 2, 4.1, 151–61. —. 2011: ‘Russian Monarchs and Classical Archaeology on the Northern Black Sea Coast’. In Papuci-Władyka et al. 2011, 347–53. Tillish, S.S. 2008: ‘Scythians Is a Name Given Them by the Greeks’: An Analysis of Six Barrow Burials on the Western Eurasian Steppe (BAR International Series 1749) (Oxford). Tokhtasev [Tochtasev/Tokhtashev, etc.], S.R. 1984: ‘Scythica v Trudach II Vsesoyuznogo simpoziuma po drevnei istorii Prichernomor’ya (Tskhaltubo 1979)’. VDI 3, 133– 43. —. 1992: ‘Cimmerians’. In Encyclopaedia Iranica V, 563–67. —. 1996: ‘Die Kimmerier in der antiken Überlieferung’. Hyperboreus 2.1, 1–46. —. 2005: ‘Sauromatae – Sarmatae – Syrmatae’. Khersonesskii Sbornik 14, 291–306. —. 2013: ‘Iranskie imena v nadpisyakh Ol’vii I–III vv. n.e.’. In Tochtasev, S.R. and Luria, P. (eds.), Commentationes Iranicae Vladimiro f. Aaron Livschits nonagenario donum natalicium (St Petersburg), 565–607. Tolstikov, V.P. 1997: ‘Descriptions of Fortifications of the Classical Cities in the Region to the North of the Black Sea’. ACSS 4, 187–231. Tonkin, E., McDonald, M. and Chapman, M. 1996: ‘History and Ethnicity’. In Hutchinson and Smith 1996, 18–24. Touloumakos, J. 1996: ‘Historische Personennamen und Geschichtsbewusstsein in den griechischen Städten des Bosporanischen Reiches’. In Leschhorn, W., Miron, A. and Miron, A.V.B. (eds.), Hellas und der griechische Osten: Studien zur Geschichte und Numismatik der griechischen Welt. Festschrift für Peter Robert Franke zum 70. Geburtstag (Saarbrücken), 251–71. Treister, M.Y. 2001: ‘Akhemenidskie importy na Bospore Kimmeriiskom. Analiz i interpretatsiya’. In Bosporskii fenomen: kolonizatsiya regiona, formirovanie polisov, obrazovanie gosudarstva (Sankt-Peterburg, 22–25 noyabrya 2011 g.), vol. 1 (St Petersburg), 113–21. —. 2005: ‘Masters and Workshops of the Jewellery and Toreutics from Fourth-Century Scythian Burial-mounds’. In Braund 2005e, 56–63. —. 2010: ‘Achaemenid and Achaemenid-inspired Goldware and Silverware, Jewellery and Arms and their Imitations to the North of the Achaemenid Empire’. In Nieling, J. and Rehm, H. (eds.) 2010: Achaemenid Impact in the Black Sea: Communication of Powers (Black Sea Studies 11) (Aarhus), 223–80. Trigger, B. 1989: A History of Archaeological Thought (Cambridge). Trofimova, A.A. 2007a: ‘The Art of the Ancient Cities of the Northern Black Sea Region’. In Trofimova 2007b, 18–35.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

213

—. (ed.) 2007b: Greeks on the Black Sea: Ancient Art from the Hermitage (Los Angeles). Trypanis, A. 1960: ‘A New Collection of Epigrams from Chios’. Hermes 88, 69–74. Tsetskhladze, G.R. 1994: ‘Greek Penetration of the Black Sea’. In Tsetskhladze, G.R. and De Angelis, F. (eds.), The Archaeology of Greek Colonisation: Essays Dedicated to Sir John Boardman (Oxford University School of Archaeology Monograph 40) (Oxford), 111–35. —. 1997: ‘On the Pontic Grain Trade in the Archaic and Classical Periods’. In Meshcheryakov, V.F. (ed.), Antichnyi mir. Vizantiya. K 70-letiyu professora Vladimira Kadeeva (Kharkov), 243–52. —. (ed.) 1998a: The Greek Colonisation of the Black Sea Area. Historical Interpretation of Archaeology (Historia Einzelschriften 121) (Stuttgart). —. 1998b: ‘Greek Colonisation of the Black Sea Area: Stages, Models and Native Population’. In Tsetskhladze 1998a, 9–68. —. (ed.) 1999: Ancient Greeks West and East (Mnemosyne Suppl. 196) (Leiden/Boston/ Cologne). —. 2001a: ‘Introduction. North Pontic Classical Archaeology: A Historical Essay’. In Tsetskhladze 2001b, ix–xx. —. (ed.) 2001b: North Pontic Archaeology: Recent Discoveries and Studies (Colloquia Pontica 6) (Leiden/Boston/Cologne). —. 2002a: ‘Black Sea Piracy’. Talanta 32–33 (for 2000–01), 11–15. —. 2002b: ‘Ionians Abroad’. In Tsetskhladze and Snodgrass 2002, 81–96. —. 2004: ‘On the Earliest Greek Colonial Architecture in Pontus’. In Tuplin, C.J. (ed.), Pontus and the Outside World: Studies in Black Sea History, Historiography, and Archaeology (Colloquia Pontica 9) (Leiden/Boston), 225–78. —. 2019: ‘An Achaemenid Inscription from Phanagoria: Extending the Boundaries of Empire’. AWE 18, 113–51. Tsetskhladze, G.R. and Hargrave, J.F. 2011: ‘Colonisation from Antiquity to Modern Times: Comparisons and Contrasts’. AWE 10, 161–82. Tsetskhladze, G.R. and Snodgrass, A.M. (eds.) 2002: Greek Settlements in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Black Sea (BAR International Series 1062) (Oxford). Tsvetaeva, G.A. 1968: Sokrovishcha Prichernomorskikh Kurganov (Moscow). Tunkina, I.V. 2002: Russkaya nauka o klassicheskikh drevnostyach yuga Rossii (XVIIIseredina XIX v.) (St Petersburg). —. 2003: ‘The Formation of a Russian Science of Classical Antiquities of Southern Russia in the 18th and Early 19th Century’. In Bilde, P. Guldager, Højte, J.M. and Stolba, V.F. (eds.), The Cauldron of Ariantas. Studies Presented to A.N. Ščeglov on the Occasion of his 70th Birthday (Black Sea Studies 1) (Aarhus), 303–64. —. 2007: ‘New Data on the Panhellenic Achilles’ Sanctuary on the Tendra Spit (Excavation of 1824)’. In Bresson et al. 2007, 225–40. Tuplin, C.J. 1999: ‘Greek Racism? Observations on the Character and Limits of Greek Ethnic Prejudice’. In Tsetskhladze 1999, 47–77. —. 2007: ‘Racism in Classical Antiquity? Three Opinions’. AWE 6, 327–38. Tyrrell, W.B. 1984: Amazons: A Study in Athenian Mythmaking (Baltimore/London). Ustinova, Y. 1999: The Supreme Gods of the Bosporan Kingdom: Celestial Aphrodite and the Most High God (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 135) (Leiden/ Boston/Cologne). —. 2005: ‘Snake-Limbed and Tendril-Limbed Goddesses in the Art and Mythology of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea’. In Braund 2005e, 64–79.

214

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Vachtina, M.Ju. 2003: ‘Archaic Buildings of Porthmion’. In Bilde, P. Guldager, Højte, J.M. and Stolba, V.F. (eds.), The Cauldron of Ariantas. Studies Presented to A.N. Ščeglov on the Occasion of his 70th Birthday (Black Sea Studies 1) (Aarhus), 37–54. van Dommelen, P. 1997: ‘Colonial Constructs: Colonialism and Archaeology in the Mediterranean’. World Archaeology 28.3, 305–23. —. 1998: On Colonial Grounds: A Comparative Study of Colonialism and Rural Settlement in First Millennium BC West Central Sardinia (Dissertation, Leiden). —. 2005: ‘Colonial Interactions and Hybrid Practices: Phoenician and Carthaginian Settlement in the Ancient Mediterranean’. In Stein 2005, 109–42. —. 2006: ‘The Orientalizing Phenomenon: Hybridity and Material Culture in the Western Mediterranean’. In Riva and Vella 2006, 135–52. —. 2011: ‘Postcolonial Archaeologies between Discourse and Practice’. World Archaeology 43.1, 1–6. Vassileva, M. 1998: ‘Greek Ideas of the North and the East: Mastering the Black Sea Area’. In Tsetskhladze 1998a, 69–77. Veit, U. 1994: ‘Ethnic Concepts in German Prehistory: A Case study on the Relationship between Cultural Identity and Archaeological Objectivity’. In Shennan, S.J. (ed.), Archaeological Approaches to Cultural Identity (London/New York), 35–56. Vermeulen, H. and Govers, C. (eds.) 1994: The Anthropology of Ethnicity: Beyond ‘Ethnic Groups and Boundaries’ (Amsterdam). Vickers, M. 1979: Scythian Treasures in Oxford (Oxford). —. 2002: Scythian and Thracian Treasures in Oxford (Oxford). Vinogradov, Y.A. 2001: ‘Kurgany varvarskoi znati V v. do n.e. v raione Bospora Kimmeriiskogo’. VDI 4, 77–87. Vinogradov, Y.G. [Ju.G.] 1980: ‘Persten’ carya Skila. Politicheskaya i dinastiinaya istoriya skifov pervoi poloviny V v. do n.e.’. SovA 3, 92–109. —. 1981a: ‘Sinopa i Ol’via v V v. do n.e. Problema politicheskogo ustroistva (chast’ I)’. VDI 2, 65–90. —. 1981b: ‘Sinopa i Ol’via v V v. do n.e. Problema politicheskogo ustroistva (chast’ II)’. VDI 3, 49–75. —. 1981c: Olbia: Geschichte einer altgriechischen Stadt am Schwarzen Meer (Xenia 1) (Konstanz). —. 1981d: ‘Varvary v prosopografii Ol’vii VI–V vv. do n.e.’. In Lordkipanidze 1981, 131–48. —. 1983: ‘Polis v Severnom Prichernomor’e’. In Golubtsova, E.S. (ed.), Antichnaya Gretsiya. 1: Stanovlenie i razvitie polisa (Moscow), 366–420. —. 1989: Politicheskaya istoriya ol’viiskogo polisa VII–I vv. do n.e. Istoriko-epigraficheskoe issledovanie (Moscow). —. 1994: ‘New Inscriptions on Lead from Olbia’. ACSS 1.1, 103–11. —. 1997a: ‘Barbaren in der Prosopographie Olbias im 6. und 5 Jh. v.Chr.’. In Vinogradov 1997d, 146–65. —. 1997b: ‘Der Pontos Euxeinos als politische, ökonomische und kulturelle Einheit und die Epigraphik’. In Vinogradov 1997d, 1–73. —. 1997c: ‘Zur politischen Verfassung von Sinope und Olbia im fünften Jahrhundert v.u.Z.’. In Vinogradov 1997d, 165–229. Vinogradov, Ju.G. (ed.) 1997d: Pontische Studien: Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte und Epigraphik des Schwarzmeerraumes (Mainz).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

215

Vinogradov, Ju.G. and Kryžickij, S.D. 1995: Olbia: eine altgriechische Stadt im nordwestlischen Schwarzmeerraum (Mnemosyne Suppl. 195) (Leiden/New York). Vinogradov, Y.G. and Rusyaeva, A.S. 2001: ‘Graffiti iz svyatilishcha Apollona na Zapadnom Temenose Ol’vii’. In Zolotarev, M.I. (ed.), ΑΝΑΧΑΡΣΙΣ: Pamyati Yuriya Germanovicha Vinogradova (Khersonesskii Sbornik 11) (Sevastopol), 134– 42. Vlasova, E.V. 2007: ‘Kul Oba Kurgan’. In Trofimova 2007b, 237–38. Vlassopoulos, K. 2013: Greeks and Barbarians (Cambridge). Vos, M.F. 1963: Scythian Archers in Archaic Attic Vase-Painting (Archaeologica Traiectina 6) (Groningen). Wengrow, D. 2006: ‘Approaching Ancient Orientalization via Modern Europe’. In Riva and Vella 2006, 31–47. West, M.L. 1983: The Orphic Poems (Oxford). —. 1997: The East Face of Helicon: West Asiatic Elements in Greek Poetry and Myth (Oxford/New York). —. (ed. and transl.) 2003: Greek Epic Fragments from the Seventh to the Fifth Centuries BC (Cambridge, MA/London). West, S. 1999a: ‘Hippocrates’ Scythian Sketches’. Eirene 35, 14–32. —. 1999b: ‘Introducing the Scythians: Herodotus on Koumiss (4.2.)’. Museum Helveticum 56.2, 76–86. —. 2004: ‘Herodotus and Scythia’. In Karageorghis, V. and Taifacos, I. (eds.), The World of Herodotus (Proceedings of an International Conference held at the Foundation Anastasios G. Leventis, Nicosia, September 18–21, 2003) (Nicosia), 73–89. White, R. 1991: The Middle Ground: Indians, Empires, and Republics in the Great Lakes Region 1650–1815 (Cambridge). —. 2006: ‘Creative Misunderstandings and New Misunderstandings’. The William and Mary Quarterly 63.1, 9–14. Xydopoulos, I.K. 2018: ‘The Cimmerians and their Perception in Ancient Greek Sources’. In Manoledakis et al. 2018, 65–81. Yailenko, V.P. 1990: ‘Ol’viya i Bospor v ellinisticheskuyu epokhu’. In Golubtsova, E.S. (ed.), Ellinizm: ekonomika, politika, kul’tura (Moscow), 249–309. Young, R.C.J. 1995: Colonial Desire. Hybridity in Theory, Culture and Race (London/ New York). —. 2001: Postcolonialism: An Historical Introduction (Malden, MA/Oxford). Zgusta, L. 1955: Die Personennamen griechischer Städte der nördlichen Schwarzmeerküste: die ethnischen Verhältnisse, namentlich das Verhältnis der Skythen und Sarmaten, im Lichte der Namenforschung (Prague). Zhebelev, S.A. 1941: ‘Otkuda vedet svoe proiskhozhdenie nazvanie Mirmekii’. Materialy i issledovaniya po arkheologii SSSR 4, 149–51. Zhmud’, L. 1992: ‘Orphism and Graffiti from Olbia’. Hermes 120, 159–68. Zograf, A.N. 1922: ‘Statuarnye izobrazheniya Devy v Khersonese po dannym numizmatiki’. Izvestiya Rossiiskoi Akademii Istorii Material’noi Kul’tury 2, 337–60. Zubarev, V.G. 2005: Istoricheskaya geografiya Severnogo Prichernomor’ya po dannym antichnoi pis’mennoi traditsii (Moscow).

INDEX LOCORUM

1. Passages of Ancient Authors Aeschylus Prometheus Bound 707–711: 136 fr. 196 Nauck: 135 Alcaeus fr. 307c: 56 14 (Diehl), 354 (Lobel-Page): 59 Ammianus Marcellinus Res Gestae 8. 33: 164 Anonymous Periplus Ponti Euxini 58: 70 55: 161 Antigonus Historia Mirabilis 152: 169 Apollodorus Epitome 3. 22: 84 Aristophanes Lysistrata 426–427: 143 Aristotle Problems 3. 7 (872a3): 144 Arrian (FGrHist 156) F 60: 124 F 76: 124 Athenaeus Deipnosophistae 4. 153e: 145 11. 427a: 143 11. 427c: 144 11. 499: 144 Bible Genesis 10:3: 133 Jeremiah 51:27: 133 Callimachus Hymn to Diana 253: 124 fr. 365: 76 Callisthenes (FGrHist 124) F 29: 132 Cicero Academica 1. 2 (Lucullus): 126 Laelius de Amicitia 24: 165 Curtius Historiae Alexandri Magni 4. 1. 10: 39 Dio Chrysostom Or. 36 (Borystheniticus): 106, 151 Diodorus Siculus Bibliotheca Historica 2. 43: 68

2. 43. 7: 170 2. 45: 174 5. 26. 3: 145 3. 43. 5: 159 20. 25: 159 Ephorus (FGrHist 70) fr. 134: 125 fr. 42: 148 Epicorum Graecorum Fragmenta 19 (Kinkel), 32 (Davies): 83 Euripides Cretans fr. 79 (Austin): 69 Helen 1301: 69 Iphigenia in Tauris 1113: 90 Eustathius Scholia to the Odyssey 1671. 1, 5: 126 Hecataeus (FGrHist 1) F 195: 1 Heraclides Ponticus 103–104, F 129: 124 Herodorus of Heraclea (FGrHist 31) F 17: 76 Herodotus Historiae 1. 142: 122 1. 103–104: 126 2. 2: 123 3. 106: 122 3. 116: 119 4. 1: 126 4. 5: 76, 123 4. 6: 133 4. 8–10: 68 4. 11–13: 126 4. 12: 62, 131 4. 13: 116, 119 1. 15: 126 4. 17. 1: 45, 77, 118, 188 4. 17–20: 133 4. 21: 169 4. 27: 119 4. 45: 1 4. 46: 148 4. 53. 6: 109

218

INDEX LOCORUM

4. 62: 116 4. 76–77: 104 4. 78: 103 4. 78–80: 105 4. 79: 109 4. 82: 77 4. 99: 157 4. 102: 158 4. 103: 84, 90, 159 4. 108: 77, 139, 188 4. 110: 174 4. 110–116: 76, 166 4. 116–117: 169 4. 126–127: 137 6. 84: 144 7. 20: 126 Hesiod Catalogue of Women fr. 23 a-b (Merkelbach-West): 85 fr. 150–151 (Merkelbach-West): 135 Homer Iliad 1. 423: 127, 135 2. 189: 174 6. 186: 174 13. 1–9: 134 13. 5: 134 21. 470: 84 23. 205: 127, 135 Odyssey 1. 22: 127 1. 22–23: 135 4. 84: 135 8. 219–225: 75 11. 13–19: 125 11. 15: 124 Isocrates Panegyricus 50: 32 Evagoras 66: 33 To Philip 124: 34 Jordanes Getica 35, 183: 116 Lactantius Institutiones Divinae 5. 3. 23: 126 Lucian Anacharsidis Epistolae 9: 149 Ovid Metamorphoses 11. 592: 126 Epistulae ex Ponto 3: 164 Tristitia 3. 10: 151

Pindar fr. 70b (Snell-Maehler): 69 fr. 105ab (Snell-Maehler): 136 Plato Laws 1. 637d, e: 144 Phaedro 109b: 3 Pliny Naturalis Historia 5. 123: 124–25 4. 85: 157, 163 6. 7. 19: 169 Plutarch Pericles 20: 81 Polynaeus Strategemata 7. 2. 1: 125 Pomponius Mela De Chorographia 2. 3: 82 Posidonius (FGrHist 87) F 31: 125 Priscus fr. 39 (Blockley): 115 Ps.-Hippocrates Airs Waters Places 13: 1 17: 169 18: 136 18–23: 122 Ps.-Scylax 68: 169 70: 169 72: 169 Ps.-Scymnus F 12 (823): 158 Ptolemy Geography 3. 5. 2: 70 Scholia in Apoll. Rhod. Argonautica 1. 1126: 124 Scholia in Theocritum vetera 13. 56: 76 Stephanus Byzantius Ethnica s.v. Antandros: 124 s.v. Syassos: 124 Stesichorus Poetae Melici Graeci 2115/38: 85 Strabo Geographica 1. 1. 10: 126 1. 2. 9: 126 1. 3. 21: 132 3. 2. 12: 126 5. 4. 5: 125 7. 2. 4: 170 7. 3. 7: 134, 135

INDEX LOCORUM

7. 3. 9: 118, 134, 135, 148 7. 4. 2: 159, 161 7. 4. 3: 126, 131 7. 4. 4: 157 7. 4. 5: 163 11. 2. 5: 62, 126 11. 6. 2: 170 Tacitus Annales 12. 17: 85, 159, 161 Germania 23: 145 Theopompus (FGrHist 115) F 45: 149 Thucydides 6. 5. 1: 54 6. 4. 4: 54 Tragica Adespota fr. 221 (Nauck): 70 Valerius Flaccus Argonautica 6. 48–59: 68 Virgil Georgics 3: 151 2. Inscriptions CIRB 1: 111 2: 111 5: 111 6: 112 8: 112 9: 111 18: 111 19: 111 20: 111 37: 61 53: 51 89: 81 114: 89, 103, 158 145: 81 384: 104 974: 111 980: 51 1008: 163 1037: 112 1038: 111, 112 1043: 111 1048: 51 1056: 111 1137: 102 1179: 81 1237: 159

1242: 186 1243: 186 1245: 186 1251a: 186 IG II2 10270: 103 3135: 104 11131: 104 IG 14. 1293: 68 IGDOlbia 3: 105 4: 103 8 (SEG 42.714): 79–80 9: 79–80 10: 80 11 (I.Olbia 71): 78–79, 104 12: 80 24: 69 81: 68, 70 I.Olbia 71: see IGDOlbia 11 IOSPE I2 32: 42, 81, 170, 173, 189 186: 55 187: 55 232: 81 325: 59 343: 86, 163 344: 62, 86 346: 104 352: 81, 86, 148, 163–164 359: 54–55 364: 53 401: 86 402: 55, 104 528: 164 562: 164 SEG 28.659: 55 30.99: 55 31.702: 79 40.615: 102 42.710: 69 42.714: see IGDOlbia 8 44.68: 70 45.985: 54 46.934: 104 46.958: 81 55.838: 54

219

GENERAL INDEX

Abii 118, 134–35 acculturation 2, 25, 27, 41, 43, 94, 106– 07, 186–87 See also Hellenisation Achaeans, barbarian tribe 159 Achaemenid/Achaemenids 20–23, 81, 145, 171 Achilles 59–61, 78, 83–84, 152, 174, 181, 188 Pontarches 59–61, 78, 106–07, 109 Aegina 139 Aeschines 103 Aeschylus 32, 135–36 Agamemmnon 84 Agathyrsus/Agathyrsi 68 Ahura Mazda 19 Aithiopis 174 Ai-Todor 160 Ajvazovskoe 157 Akkadian 17, 125, 128–29 Alcaeus 56, 59–60 Alexander the Great 7, 33–34, 42, 56–57, 117 Amasya 129 Amazonomachy 112, 123, 176, 185 Amazons/Amazon 6, 36, 76, 115, 121– 22, 140, 166–69, 171, 174–76, 178, 181–82 ambivalence, theory 37 Anacharsis 68, 104, 110, 148–50, 188 Anacreon 142–43 Ananino 129 Antiope 174 Aphaia 139 Aphareos, Euboea 78 Aphrodite 172 apoikia, terminology 39 Apollo 55–56, 81–82, 84, 87 Boreas 104 Delphinios 55, 59, 188 Ietros/Iatros 55, 59, 104, 188

Thargelios 55 Prostates 60–61, 106 Apollonia 70, 78 Arcadia/Arcadians 61 Archeanactidae 94 Ardashir I (r. 224–241 AD) 19 Argive 35 Argonautica 124, 127 Argonauts 119, 159 Arichos 105 Arimaspaea 119, 126, 130 Arimaspians 116, 119, 121–22 Aristeas of Proconnesus 119, 126, 130 Aristogeiton 80 Aristophanes 88, 142–43 Aristotle 33, 122, 124, 144 Artemis 83–87, 90, 114, 172 Elaphoktonos 90 Orthia 85 Potnia theron 84 Tauropolos 87, 90, 165 Triklaria 85 Assyrian 124, 128 Atalanta 139 Athena 59, 63, 188 Athens/Athenians/Athenian 5, 31, 32, 34–35, 50, 63–64, 66, 75, 80–81, 88, 103, 112, 139, 141–43, 150, 160, 165, 174, 180, 184 Attica/Attic 60, 87, 91–92, 121, 123, 139, 141, 142–45, 174 Attila 116 Aulis 83–85 Avars/Avar 116 Avernus, lake 125 Babylonian 124, 128 Babylonian Map of the World 127 Bacchic 110 ‘barbarisation’/‘barbarised’ 2, 77, 113, 152

222

GENERAL INDEX

Barth, Fredrik (1928–2016) 26–28, 32 Battos I of Cyrene 53 Beikush 59, 61, 181 Belsk/Belskoe gorodishche 137, 139 Benedict, Ruth (1887–1948) 66 Berezan 44–46, 61, 181 Borysthenes, river god 69 Borysthenes, settlement see Berezan Bosporus/Bosporan 7, 172 Boudini/Budini 77, 137, 188 Bug (Boh), river 69 Byzantium/Byzantine 55, 115 Cadiz 117 Calchas 84 Callatis 55, 75 Callimachus, poet 53, 76, 124 Callipidae 45, 77, 188 Calydonian boar hunt 139 Carians 46 Caucasus/Caucasian 10, 15, 124, 126, 129–31, 145, 155, 159 Celts 16, 145 Cerberus 126 Chaika 58 Chastye Kurgans 98 Chernogorovka, culture 131 Chersonasos, goddess 81–83 Chersonesus Taurike 7, 11, 53–59, 62, 74, 81–87, 89–92, 99, 101–02, 104, 114, 121, 154, 157, 161–64, 187–89 Chertomlyk Kurgan 22 Childe, Vere Gordon (1892–1957) 5, 10, 26 Chios 80 Cimbri 125 Cimmerian Bosporus 1, 62, 130–31 Cimmerians/Cimmerian 6, 10–11, 15, 17, 62, 70, 115, 124–33, 155, 180 Ciscaucasia 129 Clazomenian 104 Cleomenes 144 cliché see stereotype Cohen, Abner (1921–2001) 26–27 Colchis 44, 127 collective identity 2–3, 5, 14, 49–50, 54, 63, 107–09, 113, 184, 186–87 collective memory 49, 52–53

colonialism 36, 38–41, 44 colonisation ancient colonisation 36, 38–42, 44, 47, 50, 163 modern European colonisation 38, 41 colony, terminology 38–39 core-periphery theory 29 Creolisation 25, 37 Crimea/Crimean 8, 11, 14, 48, 58, 84, 87–89, 123, 153–65, 165, 171, 189 Croton, Italy 75 cultural coherence 6, 67, 107–08, 113, 153, 185, 187 cultural identity 1, 4, 6, 14, 25–26, 28–30, 39, 64–65, 67, 83, 91, 107, 109–10, 114, 150, 153, 159, 179, 182– 83, 185–87 cultural turn 26 culture-history approach 2, 4, 5, 14, 63, 91 Cybele/Mother of the Gods/Great Mother 68–71, 75, 110 Cyclops 88, 136, 165 Cypria 83, 85 Cyrene 53 Cyzicus 68 Danaans 134 Dandarii 111 Danube 15 Darius I (r. 522–486 BC) 137, 148 Delian 80, 154 Delphi 49, 67 Demeter 69, 75, 109–10, 172, 188 Demosthenes 103 Dio Chrysostom 106, 152, 181 Dionysus 188, 69, 109–10, 143, 163 Baccheios 55 Diophantos 81–82, 86, 148, 150, 164 Dioscuri 159 Dnieper, river 68, 103, 137 Dniester, river see Tyras, river Dobrudja 171 Dodona 55 Dolinnoe, Sarmatian burial 22 Don, river (Tanais) 1, 98, 166, 169–71, 173, 175, 177, 186

GENERAL INDEX

Dorian 47, 163 Doric 61, 83, 101 Earth (Gaia), deity 86 Elysium 127 Eminakos 105 Ephesus 87 Ephorus 118, 125, 134–35, 148–50, 181 Erasmus of Rotterdam 126 Ethiopians, mythical people 117, 127, 135 ethnic identity 4, 14, 28, 94, 103, 108, 162, 166, 185–86 ethnic revival 25 ethnicity 3–5, 11, 14–15, 25–29, 32, 44, 48, 62–63, 75, 91–92, 94–95, 105–06, 131, 141, 164, 172, 184 ethnos 2, 5, 14, 28, 63, 101, 157, 162–63 Etruscans/Etruscan 11, 165 Eumelus, king of Bosporus 159–60, 181 Eumolpus, son of Poseidon 51 Eupatoria see Kerkinitis Eurasianism/Eurasianists 16 Euripides/Euripidean 69, 85, 87–88, 90, 114, 150, 155, 164–65, 185 Evagoras, king of Salamis 33 Filippovka, Sarmatian burial Foros, site 160 François Vase 139, 141

22

Gaia see Earth Galactophagi/Glactophagi 118, 134 Ganges 117 Geloni 68, 77, 137, 188 Gelonus, city 137, 139, 188 Gelonus, son of Heracles 68 gender 3, 28–29, 83, 92, 94, 162, 167, 179–80 Germanic 10, 125, 145 Geryon 68 Getae/Getic 7, 60, 106–07, 109, 152–53, 186 globalisaton 4, 25, 29 Gorgippia 81, 101–02 Goths 11, 16 Great Bliznitsa Kurgan 72, 122 Great Goddess 74, 172

223

Great Mother see Cybele Gryphomachy 176, 185 Gumilev, Lev Nikolayevich (1912–1992) 1, 16–17 Gundelen 129 Gurzufskoe Sedlo 90, 160 Gylon of Cerameis 103 Hades 125–27 Harmodius 80 Hecataeus 1 Hecate 70, 75 Hecatompylae, Lybia 75 Hector 134 Helios see Sun Hellenicity (Greek identity) 29, 32–33 Hellenisation 2, 5, 16, 33, 36, 43, 63, 94, 106, 108, 113, 187 See also acculturation Hellenocentric 3, 9, 43, 77 Hellespont 95 Heniochi 159 Heraclea Pontica 55–56, 75–76, 101, 154 Heraclean Peninsula 86, 164 Heracles 50–51, 55–59, 68–70, 75–77, 102, 174, 188 Herakleios, month 55, 58 Heraklides 56 Hermonassa 82 Herodotus/Herodotean 1, 11, 18, 31, 34–35, 43, 45–46, 50, 62, 67–70, 74–77, 84–85, 88–90, 97, 103–05, 109–11, 115–16, 118–19, 122–24, 126, 128–29, 131, 133, 135–37, 139, 144, 148, 150–52, 157–59, 164, 166, 169, 174, 176, 187–88 Hesiod 85, 118, 135 Hesperides 119 Hesychius 70 Heuresibios 78–80, 104 Hippemolgi 134–35 Hippolaos, cape 59, 181, 169 Hippolyta 174 Histria 70, 103 Homer/Homeric 67, 75, 67, 84, 118, 124–28, 134–36, 148, 152, 174–75 Huns 11, 16, 115–16, 136, 171

224

GENERAL INDEX

hybridity/hybridisation 1, 2, 4, 16, 25, 37, 41–43, 187 Hylaea 68–70, 75 Hyperboreans 56, 117, 119, 135 Idanthyrsos, Scythian king 137 İmirler 129 imperialism 32, 36, 38–40, 151–52 India 36, 38, 41, 117 indigenisation 25 Inensimes, Sarmatian king 106 Inkerman 156 instrumental approach/instrumentalism 26–27 intentional history 49, 52–53 Ionia/Ionian/Ionians 46–47, 70, 92, 157, 163 Iphigenia/Iphigeneia 83–85, 88–89, 114, 150, 154, 164–65 Iran/Iranian/Iranians 4, 15–20, 22–23, 74, 76, 99, 101, 104–06, 132–33, 146, 170–72, 183–84, 186, 189 Isocrates/Isocratean 32, 33, 150 Istria see Histria Italy 42, 44, 73, 75, 95, 125, 164 Kamenskoe gorodishche 137 Karagodeuashkh Kurgan 19–20 Karasuk, culture 177 Kazakhstan 8, 129, 132, 173 Kekuvatskii Kurgan 91 Kelermes Kurgan 119–120 Kepoi 103 Kerameikos 142 Kerch Strait see Cimmerian Bosporus Kerkinitis/Karkinitis (Eupatoria) 89, 95, 104–05, 157, 161 Khazars 136 Kinburn, peninsula 59, 70, 181 Kizil-Koba culture 84, 89, 154–63 See also Taurians Koshka Mountain 154, 160 Kossinna, Gustaf (1858–1931) 5, 9, 11, 14, 26 Kuban 158, 162, 171 Kul-Oba Kurgan 22, 72, 92–93, 97, 100, 145 Kutsurub 45

Labrys, town 22 Laestrygonians 127 Lamachus 81 Leokrates 78–79 Leoprepes 78 Leucon I, king of Bosporus 61, 111–13 Leuke, island 59–60, 181 Lévi-Strauss, Claude (1908–2009) 31, 66, 136 Libyans 135 Lucian of Samosata 149–50 Macedon/Macedonians 34, 58, 95 Maeotians 112, 158, 172 Maeotis, lake (Sea of Azov) 1, 165, 168–69 Mal-Muz necropolis 90, 154 Manna 129 Marxist theory/Marxism 2, 5, 9–11, 14, 36, 63, 172 Mausolus, ruler of Caria 34 Medea 31 Media 129 Megara/Megarian 49, 55–56 melting pot, theory 25 Melqart 77 Mesopotamia 41, 128, 132 Metaponto, Magna Graecia 46 Mezhvodnoe 58 Midas, king of Phrygia 124 middle ground, theory 4, 37–38, 41 Miletus/Milesian 46, 49, 55, 59, 70, 112, 121, 160 mimicry, theory 37 Minns, Sir Ellis Hovell (1874–1953) 2, 9, 16, 82 Minusinsk 129, 178 Mistress of Animals 84 Mithraism 17, 20 Mithridates II 161 Mithridates VI Eupator 148, 164 Mixhellenes 189 Moinaki, lake 58 Mongolians/Mongolian 136, 173 Mother of the Gods see Cybele multiculturalism/multicultural 2–4, 7, 18, 25, 29, 36, 54, 77, 94, 107, 109– 10, 112–13, 153, 184–87, 189

GENERAL INDEX

Muş 129 Myrmekion 46–47, 70, 82 Mysians 134 Naqsh-e-Rustam, Iran 19–20 Neizatskoe, settlement 156 Nemirovskoe gorodishche 137 New Archaeology 26 Niconium 80 Nomima 49, 53–56, 61–62, 65, 67, 107, 113, 185 Norşun Tepe 129 Novocherkassk, culture 130–31 Nymphaeum 81, 92, 94 objectivists/objectivist approach 27 Ocean/Oceanus river 68, 125, 127 Odrysian kingdom 42, 50 Odysseus 125 Olbia Pontike 7, 9, 12–13, 21–22, 42, 44–45, 48, 54–56, 59–61, 68–70, 78–81, 92, 102, 104–10, 113, 152–53, 181, 186–89 Olympia/Olympic 49, 59, 188 Olympus 127 Opoia, wife of Scyles 110 Orenburg 129, 171 Orestes 150 Orient/Oriental 15, 16, 32, 34, 37, 40, 143 Orientalisation 30–32, 36–37 Orphism/Orphic/Orphic-Dionysiac 54, 69, 109–10, 188 Orsk, Sarmatian burial 22 Ostrogoths 115 Ovid 126, 151, 164 Paerisades I, king of Bosporus 111 Pan 61 Panskoye I 13, 58, 90, 92, 103, 161–62, 166, 189 Panticapaeum/Panticapaean 47, 57, 61, 70–71, 73, 81, 89, 91–92, 95, 103–04, 111, 121 Panticapes, River 61 Parthenopaeus 141 Parthenos, goddess 57–59, 62, 81–87, 89–91, 114, 165, 185, 188 Elaphoktonos 90, 185

225

Promachos 86 Paris, Trojan prince 141 Pazyryk 10, 119, 121, 177 Pelasgians 131 Penthesilea 174 Pericles 81 Perkals 129 Persian/Persians 17, 22, 30–35, 88, 112, 140, 145 Petchenegae 136 Phanagoria 82, 101 Pharzoios, Sarmatian king 106 Philip II of Macedon 34 Phineus 118 Phoenician 42, 77, 103 Phrygian 68, 124 Pindar 69, 136 Placuvius, playwright 165 Plato/Platonic 3, 144, 148, 152–53 plural society 32, 185 Plutarch 81 Pokrovka 177–78 Polovci 136 Pompei 165 Pomponius Mela 82, 169 Porthmion 45, 47 Poseidon 51 Posidonius 125, 145 Postcolonialism/Postcolonial 4, 5, 25–26, 31, 36–38, 42–44, 48, 63, 65, 184 Postmodernism/Postmodern/Postmodernist 4, 25–26, 37, 65 post-processual archaeology 26 Potnia theron see Mistress of Animals Poststructuralist 26, 37 primordialism 27 Priscus of Panium 115–16 processual archaeology 26 Proclus 83, 174 Procne, mythical Athenian princess 50 Prokhorovka, Sarmatian kurgans 22, 171 Protogenes 42, 81, 170, 173, 188 Psessi 111 Pyatigorsk 129 Pygmies 118–19, 135 Pylades 150 Pythian Games 49

226

GENERAL INDEX

racism/proto-racism 26, 31, 122 Rankenfrau 74 Rhescuporis II, king of Bosporus 51 Rhescuporis III, king of Bosporus 51 Rostovtzeff, Mikhail Ivanovich (1870– 1952) 1, 4, 9, 15–20, 74, 82, 91, 97, 111, 132, 150, 158, 171–73 Rusa I, king of Urartu (r. 735–714 BC) 124 Sacae 128, 133, 145, 148 Sagat, culture 178–79 Saguntum, Spain 75 Saïd, Edward Wadie (1935–2003) 31–32, 36–37 Saki 58 Sargon II (r. 722–705 BC) 124 Sarmatians/Sarmatian 6–8, 10–11, 15–16, 22–23, 60, 106–09, 115, 136, 153, 167–73, 186 Sauromates I, king of Bosporus 51 Sauromates II, king of Bosporus 51 Sauromatians/Sauromatian 6, 76, 115, 166–70, 172–73, 175–76, 179 Scyles 103, 105, 110, 188 Scythia/Scythian/Scythians 2, 5–11, 13, 15–20, 36, 46, 50, 60, 64, 67–70, 73–77, 84, 88, 91–92, 94–95, 97–106, 110, 114–19, 122–24, 126, 128–36, 152–53, 155–56, 163–64, 166–76, 179–84, 186–89 Scythian Animal Style 91, 183 Scythian logos 50, 84, 126, 135, 150–51, 158 Scythian protectorate 105 Scythian Neapolis 11, 59, 74 Sea of Azov see Maeotis Selim-Bek 160 Selymbria 55 Seven Brothers Kurgan (Semibratnie) 21– 22 Shirokaya Balka 45 Siberia/Siberian 8, 10, 129–30, 133–34, 173, 178 Sicily 77, 125 Sindians/Sindian 22, 92, 111, 172 Sindo-Maeotians/Sindo-Maeotian 74 Sinope 81, 126

Slavs 11, 16, 170–71 Solokha Kurgan 22, 96–97, 149 Sosias, Olbian hero 81 Sosias, son of Kephalos 78, 81 Sparta/Spartan/Spartans 56, 85, 136, 144 Spartocidae/Spartocid 51, 97, 110–12, 160 Spartocus III, king of Bosporus 111 Stanislav, cape see Hippolaos, cape static indigenism 14 Stephanus Byzantinus 61, 124 stereotype (cliché) 1, 5–6, 31–32, 36, 64, 114, 125, 133, 142–43, 145–46, 150–52, 164, 180, 183 Stesichorus 85 structuralism/structuralist 31, 116, 135– 36, 141, 148, 167, 184 subjectivists/subjectivist approach 27 Sun, deity 86 Symbolon (Balaklava) 161 Syriskos, father of Heuresibios 78–80 Syriskos, son of Heracleidas, historian 62, 86 Taman 112 Tanais, city 13–14, 159, 186 Tanais, river see Don Tanais, river god 187 Targitaos 76–77 Tarkhankut Peninsula 189 Tatars 11, 136 Tatar-Mongols 171 Taurians/Taurian 6–7, 36, 74, 83–90, 103, 115, 150, 153–55, 157–66, 181 See also Kizil-Koba culture Taurica/Tauris 83–85, 88, 114, 150, 154, 157, 164–65 Teiresias, seer 125 Tendra Spit (Race of Achilles) 59, 68, 181 Tereus, mythical Thracian king 50 Teutaros 76 Theodosia (Feodosia) 81, 111, 155, 157 Theopompus 149 Theran 53 Thermodon, river 166, 174 Theseus 112, 174

227

GENERAL INDEX

Thrace/Thracians/Thracian 11, 17, 42, 50–51, 94, 102, 132, 134, 141, 155, 174 Thucydides 39, 50, 54, 112 Tiligulskii Liman 61 Timesileos, tyrant of Sinope 81 topos 1, 7, 125, 135, 144, 148, 151, 159, 180–81, 184 Toreti 111 Toxaris 150 Transcaucasia 130 Troy/Trojans/Trojan 89, 134, 159, 174 Trojan War 51, 83 Tuva 130 Tyche 82 Tychon 103, 158 tyranny in Olbia 79–80 Tyras, city 59–60 Tyras, river (Dniester) 77, 126, 131 Uch-Bash, settlement 154, 156

Uigarak 129 Ural, mountains/region 22–23, 129–30, 132, 171–73 South Urals/South Ural 22–23, 129 Urartu 129 Urkusta 154, 156 Volga, region/river 129, 166, 172–73, 177 Voronezh Kurgan 97–99 xenia

102–03

Yubileinoe

112

Mt Zelenskaya, kurgan 22 Zeus 58–59, 86, 118, 134, 188 Eleutherios 78–80 Soter 78 Zhirnyi Kurgan 22 Zopyrion 7, 42 Zoroastrianism 17

COLLOQUIA ANTIQUA 1. G.R. TSETSKHLADZE (ed.), The Black Sea, Greece, Anatolia and Europe in the First Millennium BC. 2. H. GENZ and D.P. MIELKE (eds.), Insights into Hittite History and Archaeology. 3. S.A. KOVALENKO, Sylloge Nummorum Graecorum. State Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts. Coins of the Black Sea Region. Part I: Ancient Coins from the Northern Black Sea Littoral. 4. A. HERMARY and G.R. TSETSKHLADZE (eds.), From the Pillars of Hercules to the Footsteps of the Argonauts. 5. L. MIHAILESCU-BÎRLIBA, Ex Toto Orbe Romano: Immigration into Roman Dacia. With Prosopographical Observations on the Population of Dacia. 6. P.-A. KREUZ, Die Grabreliefs aus dem Bosporanischen Reich. 7. F. DE ANGELIS (ed.), Regionalism and Globalism in Antiquity: Exploring Their Limits. 8. A. AVRAM, Prosopographia Ponti Euxini Externa. 9. Y.N. YOUSSEF and S. MOAWAD (eds.), From Old Cairo to the New World. Coptic Studies Presented to Gawdat Gabra on the Occasion of his SixtyFifth Birthday. 10. R. ROLLINGER and K. SCHNEGG (eds.), Kulturkontakte in antiken Welten: vom Denkmodell zum Fallbeispiel. 11. S.A. KOVALENKO, Sylloge Nummorum Graecorum. State Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts. Coins of the Black Sea Region. Part II: Ancient Coins of the Black Sea Littoral. 12. A.V. PODOSSINOV (ed.), The Periphery of the Classical World in Ancient Geography and Cartography. 13. A.M. MADDEN, Corpus of Byzantine Church Mosaic Pavements from Israel and the Palestinian Territories. 14. A. PETROVA, Funerary Reliefs from the West Pontic Area (6th–1st Centuries BC). 15. A. FANTALKIN and O. TAL, Tell Qudadi: An Iron Age IIB Fortress on the Central Mediterranean Coast of Israel (with References to Earlier and Later Periods). 16. C.M. DRAYCOTT and M. STAMATOPOULOU (eds.), Dining and Death: Interdisciplinary Perspectives on the ‘Funerary Banquet’ in Ancient Art, Burial and Belief. 17. M.-P. DE HOZ, J.P. SÁNCHEZ HERNÁNDEZ and C. MOLINA VALERO (eds.), Between Tarhuntas and Zeus Polieus: Cultural Crossroads in the Temples and Cults of Graeco-Roman Anatolia.

230

AUTEURSNAAM

18. M. MANOLEDAKIS, G.R. TSETSKHLADZE and I. XYDOPOULOS (eds.), Essays on the Archaeology and Ancient History of the Black Sea Littoral. 19. R.G. GÜRTEKIN DEMIR, H. CEVIZOĞLU, Y. POLAT and G. POLAT (eds.), Archaic and Classical Western Anatolia: New Perspectives in Ceramic Studies. 20. C. KÖRNER, Die zyprischen Königtümer im Schatten der Großreiche des Vorderen Orients. Studien zu den zyprischen Monarchien vom 8. bis zum 4. Jh. v. Chr. 21. G.R. TSETSKHLADZE (ed.), Pessinus and Its Regional Setting. Volume 1. 22. G.R. TSETSKHLADZE (ed.), Pessinus and Its Regional Setting. Volume 2: Work in 2009–2013. 23. I. MOGA, Religious Excitement in Ancient Anatolia. Cult and Devotional Forms for Solar and Lunar Gods. 24. G.R. TSETSKHLADZE (ed.), Phrygia in Antiquity: From the Bronze Age to the Byzantine Period. 25. L. MIHAILESCU-BÎRLIBA (ed.), Limes, Economy and Society in the Lower Danubian Roman Provinces. 26. M. COSTANZI and M. DANA (eds.), Une autre façon d’être grec: interactions et productions des Grecs en milieu colonial/Another Way of Being Greek: Interactions and Cultural Innovations of the Greeks in a Colonial Milieu. 27. G.R. TSETSKHLADZE (ed.), Ionians in the West and East. 28. G.R. TSETSKHLADZE (ed.), Archaeology and History of Urartu (Biainili). 29. M.-P. DE HOZ, J.L. GARCÍA ALONSO and L.A. GUICHARD ROMERO (eds.), Greek Paideia and Local Tradition in the Graeco-Roman East. 30. A.V. BELOUSOV, Defixiones Olbiae Ponticae (DefOlb).

PRINTED ON PERMANENT PAPER

• IMPRIME

SUR PAPIER PERMANENT

N.V. PEETERS S.A., WAROTSTRAAT

• GEDRUKT

OP DUURZAAM PAPIER

50, B-3020 HERENT

- ISO 9706