The Meaning of Myth in Uncertain Times offers a highly personal interpretation of Greco-Roman mythology in which author Evelien Bracke reads current events, often together with her 17-year-old son, through the lens of ancient stories brought back to life in various media. As she states in the Acknowledgements, “This book is hence my attempt to contribute, in a very minor way, to the public debate about today’s global issues, by inviting readers to reflect with me on how storytelling works in the digital age” (xv). This crisp summary of the book’s intention represents exactly what readers will encounter in this delightful book.
Following the Introduction (“Hercules in the Congo”), the book consists of three parts (“The meaning of myth in the digital age,” “Uncertain times,” and “Together through the labyrinth”) in which there are 15 short chapters, 5 per part. The mythological accounts discussed represent a fascinating assemblage of heroic figures, divinities, events, and one aquatic creature: Achilles, Europa, Zeus, Gaia, Sisyphus, the Trojan War, Medea, the Minotaur, Hephaestus, Oedipus, Prometheus, Medusa, Antigone/Ismene, Penelope, and the octopus. The Conclusion concludes with Pandora.
Central to the narrative is the notion of the “super wicked problem” as described by Kelly Levin, Benjamin Cashore, Steven Bernstein and Graeme Auld in their article “Overcoming the tragedy of super wicked problems: constraining our future selves to ameliorate global climate change,” Policy Sciences 45 (2012) 123-52. The term “was coined to emphasize the complexity of certain urgent problems, because a problem like climate breakdown (1) has a deadline but (2) no central authority responsible for providing solutions. (3) Those who seek solutions are usually not the ones who cause the biggest problems, (4) every solution creates new problems, and (5) the longer we delay action, the harder it is to find a solution” (p. 88). In response to this “wicked” concatenation of impediments, Bracke aptly summons the Minotaur as a mythological analogue for our banishing of the freakish monster in the room, the result of human arrogance, to the labyrinth of “eco-paralysis” (p. 89). The book’s cover displays a totally creepy statue of the Cretan monstrosity, elegantly capturing the gruesome nature of the beast we long to ignore.
These days, many people, especially younger ones, encounter ancient myths through films, video games, graphic novels and memes. Because modern renditions come with a variety of novel interpretations that may support personal ideologies—some hateful and dehumanizing, others self-aggrandizing—or reflect diametrically opposed points of view, Bracke’s intuitive examination of the stories she discusses affords us the opportunity to observe the diverse current reception of the mythological tradition. As an example of the latter, in the first chapter we read that groups on the far right see Achilles as an icon of the ideal alpha male, as in Brad Pitt’s rendition in Troy (2004), and the portrayal of Achilles by a black man in the miniseries Troy: Fall of a City (2018) drew strongly negative reaction from those celebrating their whiteness through the blond hero (p. 21). On the other hand, some among LGBTQ+ communities find an affinity with Achilles in his living as a woman and his relationship with Patroclus. The discussion throughout raises a critical question: who owns Greco-Roman mythology?
Two statues entitled the Rape of Europa (one by Nikos Soteriadis, 2005, located in front of the European Parliament in Strasbourg and the other by Koenraad Tinel, 2007, on the Congoberg [Belgium]) were said to embody European unity and yet the very name elides the fact that the chief god of the Greek pantheon abducted and raped Europa, a Phoenician and thus a non-European woman. On the other hand, in 2010 Nigel Farage stated of Herman Van Rompuy, President of the European Council, that he reenacted Zeus’ violent kidnapping of Europa in his assault on British democracy (pp. 25-28). In 2015, anti-EU critics argued that in allowing refugees to enter the continent the organization was hiding terrorists, just like the Greeks in the Trojan Horse, but in 2016 pro-EU supporters described the Brexit movement using the same image, according to which those in favor of leaving the union were disguising its negative implications (p. 29). As in these examples, myths can become memes that simplify various viewpoints, pro and con. And as an instance of self-aggrandizement, in addition to having himself represented as the Pope and Jesus, Donald Trump has been depicted in AI-generated images as Zeus (p. 34, though in the first bullet point on that page Zeus is called a Roman god).
One thing I am grateful to have learned from reading The Meaning of Myth in Uncertain Times is that the term “meme” comes from Richard Dawkins’ book The Selfish Gene (1976). The word was formed as an analogue to “gene” [in what sense??] and describes an idea that, like genes, lives long after its proponents through various forms of communication and interpretation, the example being Socratic thinking (p. 54). The myth of Sisyphus, we learn, has produced many memes online that speak positively and negatively of his ongoing struggle, prompting in some cases virulent responses. An important takeaway for Bracke is that in the face of super wicked problems, young people find in mythological memes clickbaiting provocations that lead to disillusionment and ultimately the refusal to deal with the monsters in the room.
In the chapter on Hephaestus, Bracke takes up the figure of Talos, who in some accounts is one the god’s robotic creations, although as duly noted by Bracke, according to other accounts he was the last of the Bronze Age men. The case of robotic creations calls to mind cinematic representations of cyborgs, beings that are part human, part machine, a “biomimetic vivisystem” (p. 97). In her description of Talos and his demise, Bracke specifically mentions the episode in which Medea tricks Talos into removing the nail from his ankle (mentioned at Apollodorus 1.9.26), although she had earlier cited Apollonius, in whose account (4.1654-88) Medea bewitched the bronze man from afar; moreover she also refers us to the Talos painter who depicted a rendition of the Apollonian version. What we lose in the lack of mythological consistency and clarity is more than offset by the interesting account of Talos’ reception.
There exists a variety of devices carrying the bronze giant’s name: “Talos Heart,” “Talos Platform,” “Talos Network,” “Talos Pal,” and even an online game, “The Talos Principle,” enjoyed by the author’s son. The “principle” was promoted by a certain Straton of Stageira (a nod to Aristotle), according to whom: “if the mythological giant Talos, being mechanical yet with consciousness, is defined as a machine, then humans too—who have consciousness but a mechanical body—should be defined only as a machine.” As for the game’s premise, “a cyborg wakes up and must solve a number of puzzles in order to attain independent consciousness” (p. 101). Given traditional mythological chronology, the Cretan automaton appears to have continued to perform his duties of protecting Europa (according to Apollonius) long after her death and thus beyond his programming, as it were, a fact that invites reflection on the future of AI. In fact, Bracke prompted Chat.ai.pro.org to produce an analysis of Talos and it replied “Like Talos, AI technology, has the potential to be incredibly powerful and destructive if not controlled and used responsibly. The myth of Talos serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked power and the importance of considering the ethical implications of creating and utilizing advanced technologies, e.g., in warfare.” (p. 102).
Bracke teases out with remarkable sensitivity and appropriate concern the disturbing ways in which myths are used and the implications some contain for the present and future, especially as we grapple with a number of super wicked problems. She writes with an engaging verve, and the exchanges with her son not only personalize her narrative but underscore our communal anxiety about what awaits our children and our children’s children. Courses in mythology could, and perhaps should, include some of the insights contained here. I would only note that there are minor errors here and there. For instance, in addition to the ones mentioned above, on p. 86 Theseus is said to raise the wrong sail when returning home from Crete, while on p. 89 he forgot to raise a flag announcing his return. But these represent nugatory slips. Bracke’s true interests lie elsewhere, and for these I am grateful.