Sentimentality, History, Geekiness and Me

The recent spate of intense wildfires in Greece got me thinking about something completely unrelated. Of course. On Saturday and Sunday the ancient site of Olympia, birthplace of the ancient Olympic Games was severely threatened by fire and almost overran. Some hard firefighting saved the site both from the professionals and from volunteers from the area. Some of the pictures were astonishing, with the flames mere yards away from the original stadium.

There were some commentators, NPR's Steve Inskeep for one, who mentioned that it was ironic that a historic site, 2800 hundred years old, would have a higher priority for defense than the villages surrounding it there are inhabited and vivacious. As a noted history geek my first reaction was one of disdain and disbelief about the possibility of sacrificing such a monument. But the more I thought about it the more I began to question the underlying notions of past and present and how they converge.

I strongly believe that the study of history is, at its very root, the study of who we are today. People are defined by memory and tradition, which in turn is mediated through the constant recitation of a shared history. And not only a recitation, but also the living being embraced by the physical remains of the dead. We have always been drawn to buildings, monuments, tombs, and more that remain long after the people who built or used them have become dust and ash. Perhaps the most obvious sign of people defining themselves is the creation and remembrance of physical monuments to people, places and events of the past. This seems to be a cultural constant, regardless of politics or ideology.

Its fascinating to think that 2800 years ago there were people, like you and me, who raced around the stadium at Olympia. But it is more prescient to think about how the physical remains of Olympia, the stone ruins, the freestanding statuary, and more continue to define our present perception of sport, physicality, body image, deity, and worship. The standing stones at Olympia preserve some form of connection to a past that if lost would loosen our hold on what meaning we give ourselves today.

I'm not suggesting that ancient ruins be given precedence over human life. That would be silly. But I did want to wax poetic for a few moments on the power of the physicality of history that surrounds us every day of our lives. Not only the power, but the inherent meaning that we imbibe from it. In any case, I'm glad Ancient Olympia was saved.