As the great historian Thucydides writes in his History: “With regard to my factual reporting of the events of the war, I have made it a principle not to write down the first story that came to hand, and not even to be guided by my own general impressions; either I was present myself at the events which I have described or else I heard of them from eye-witnesses whose reports I have checked with as much thoroughness as possible. Even so, the truth was not easy to discover: different eye-witnesses gave different accounts of the same events, speaking out of partiality for one side or the other or else from imperfect memories.” [1.22.2-3, History of the Peloponnesian War, translation: Rex Warner].
The same applies to the history of maps, including nautical charts and portolans, as well as to the accounts travelers have penned over the last few millennia. The Mediterranean Sea, a cradle of civilizations and religions, of knowledge and wisdom, of shipping and trade, served as the primary communication route and contributed thus to the development of global civilization. From the Hellenistic period onwards, and particularly from the time of Claudius Ptolemy, the great “inner sea” began to be associated with wealth, prosperity and knowledge.
It was called the Mediterranean, a name it retained for centuries; it was only during the Roman era that it was renamed Mare Nostrum, or “Our Sea”. During the Arab conquest of the region, it is referred to in hundreds of accounts and maps as Bahr al-Rumi, meaning the Sea of the Rum, with the Arabic word for ‘Rome’ denoting the Byzantines. Attempts to change the names of smaller seas were rare, occurring only in minor references and insignificant works throughout the long history of the Mediterranean. Piri Reis, Muhammad al-Idrisi, Ibn Battuta and many other travelers who journeyed by ship and by caravan during the period of Arab dominion respected the long history of the Greeks in the region. This is why, on the Piri Reis maps in Topkapi palace in Istanbul and on the copy of the al-Idrisi map held in the central library of the Academy of Athens, it is referred to as the ‘Sea of the Rum’. These stand as irrefutable proof regarding the naming and renaming of the Mediterranean.
The Mediterranean has always been regarded as a virtually enclosed sea with distinctive characteristics that make it particularly vulnerable to natural and human interventions. It joined peoples and cultures. But it was also the scene of great naval battles, the most celebrated of which was the Battle of Salamis— where the insatiable appetite of the East, when it moved to conquer the West, was halted by the sound strategy and nautical expertise of the Greeks.
But this sea is subject to other evils besides armed conflict. It suffers from pollution that is degrading its seabed, its flora and fauna—even its underwater cultural heritage. Yet for centuries, the Arabs themselves—across a vast body of literature originating not only from Antioch and Cordoba, but from Islamic scholars more broadly—consistently used the name Bahr al-Rumi. Evidence for this can be found in museums and libraries around the world, as well as on maps by famous Arab cartographers, which refer to the Mediterranean in Arabic as the Roman Sea. Of course, in recent centuries, the name ‘Mediterranean’ has universally prevailed.
Ongoing attempts by certain countries to project themselves through a specific color—blue, for instance—are unfortunate. If we are to assign colors in that way, the finest shade of blue can be found in the Greek sky and the seas that wash upon the shores of Greece. It is the blue of Panayiotis Tetsis’ land- and seascapes, the blue of Phidias, the blue created by the scattering of rays of blue light in nature. This scattering occurs because of the dense presence of large organic molecules emitted by the shrubs and flora native to Greece—a defensive response to the intense aridity that characterizes our region during the hotter months of the year. Most of these odors are concentrated in Greece and the Central Mediterranean, which is why our pine forests release more aromatic hydrocarbons into the atmosphere than, say, those of Italy, even though the latter seem more robust.
Blue is the color of the sea and the sky; it is the color of seafaring and the color of clarity. It is the color whose reflection upon the Parthenon marbles rendered them so lifelike that visitors, even before the fateful explosion, believed the statues were speaking to one another.
Let’s not mess around with changes to historical names. History is not written through childish sentiments or ahistorical distortions. History is alive all around us. Wherever you dig, you will find the truth of history; and if anyone tries to change its name, the stones and marbles carved by heroes who defended that history with their blood for millennia stand still, a bulwark of truth. And in this corner of the world, those heros were the Hellenes. So let’s give the Greeks of today a respite to regain their balance, to forget the hardships of centuries of subjugation, to forget the loss of their sacred ancestors’ graves, which we search for in vain. We have no tomb for Themistocles, or for Plato, either; we know not where any of those great men rest. But history has a memory—and it is inscribed in images. Art speaks for itself, clothed in the colors of the land and the unique characteristics of every people, which are magnificent in their own right. Seeking pretexts to rewrite history is unacceptable, and we must stand up for ourselves, appealing to international organizations and calling upon every embassy around the world to set the historical record right. It isn’t Persian warships in the Straits of Salamis we have to deal with now, and Greek triremes are no longer our defense of choice. In their stead, we have our embassies—and we have the truth of history on our side.
I hope that each of us, in our own way, will arm our spirit and rouse ourselves to action. We must ensure we never need witness more tampering with the history of Asia Minor—that sacred land once handed over like a common gift to people who knew not how to unlock its treasure trove of knowledge and wisdom.
Fortunately, there are scholars and truth-seekers everywhere— academics and highly esteemed figures from the world of arts and letters. Let us all join forces in defense of the truth, which is singular. Then look peace in the eye or stand in silent reverence to welcome it across the length and breadth of Our Middle Sea.
Mr. Christos Zerefos is a full member of the Academy of Athens and Greece’s National Representative for Climate Change.
