Forum | Method, Ethics, and Historiography: Late Antiquity, Reckoning

Could we step back for a moment from the work that we do that so captures our attention, to think about not just the state of the field as we usually discuss and debate, but also about its very relevance? Its raison d’être? We are all keenly aware of how fragile our democracy is, and it takes tremendous effort on a daily basis not to fall into despair amid the constant cycle of heartbreaking and enraging news that is marred by so many -isms and -phobias. And so it is perhaps easier and even self-protective to dive headfirst into our scholarship and our teaching to shelter ourselves and preserve our well-being from the storms that are raging both in the academy and in our country. With respect to the former, the humanities and the arts are constantly under duress, and euphemistic administrative plans of “prioritization” or “consolidation” smeared with a veneer of efficiency, savings, and the too-familiar business-speak echoing the usual shallow commitment to the liberal arts, belie the harsh reality of overproduction, underfunding, contingency, exploitation, and elimination. Alas, our prospects seem precarious, and our professional demise has been accelerated by and in the latter, where false indignation and manufactured fear have thrust the humanistic disciplines into the so-called culture wars, a seeming conflict over the soul of this nation and the future of education at all levels. While Late Antiquity itself has occasionally found its way into these often toxic debates, for example in shaky comparisons between the “fall of Rome” and the “fall of western civilization,” and the civil decline caused by “foreign invaders,” ancient and modern, rushing across some imaginary border wall. The toxicity of the culture wars over the humanities has found a cesspool to thrive in within the broader field of Classics, and we are well aware of the contrived outrage over the supposed cancelation of Homer, the alleged annihilation of Greek and Latin language requirements from Classics curricula, and the misunderstanding, mischaracterization, and misinformation with regard to “burning it all down.”

Late Antiquity is often in an odd position in the academy, belonging fully neither here nor there, in this discipline or that, of one department and not another. The ambiguity can be a strength, as we practitioners in the field draw on a diverse array of disciplines and departments, theories and ideas, angles, and methods. We are at our best when we are speaking to each other and challenging one another to think about Late Antiquity from diverse approaches, broad geographies, and wide chronologies. But this diffusion can also push us into our respective towers and silos, leaving us less than aware of what our other colleagues and friends are thinking. Tracing Christians in Global Antiquity was a conference that brought many of us together into a meaningful conversation about the state of our field and the work we do and hope to do as individuals and as a collective. We gathered together to imagine and realize a different kind of future: diverse, inclusive, equitable, accessible. I also believe that we want our ideas to extend beyond our narrower confines, to reach a wider public, to do justice, and to resist. For my part, I was asked to offer some reflections on this crossroads where we find ourselves, to draw wisdom from what has been going on in the world of Classics, one of the disciplines where Late Antiquity does find a home, even if not always comfortably. This means, unfortunately, that we must travel a bit in the darkness, with the optimism of talking together to find our way to the light.

On January 6, the world witnessed a treasonous insurrection against the American government at the Capitol building in Washington, D.C., where among the many who would attempt to overturn the 2020 election, we saw bastardized signs and symbols inspired by Greco-Roman antiquity, including flags emblazoned with the phrase Molon Labe, Spartan helmets decorated with stars and stripes, and MAGA-themed Roman shields and fasces. These images and what we call misappropriations would be laughable if they were not so deadly and destructive. Alas, many of us are not surprised at all because we are fortunate to have brave writers—Donna Zuckerberg, Rebecca Kennedy, Sarah Bond, and Curtis Dozier, and Eidolon to name a few—who have been warning us and writing about these nefarious developments for some time now. But what we perhaps might have dismissed in the past as cyphers of the most fringe in our society, has become normalized and even celebrated. White supremacy and white nationalism have reared their ugly heads, and they are often dressed in a caricature of Greco-Roman antiquity.

Like our country, the field of Classics is a house divided, and most of us are well aware that there is an ongoing, contentious, and often noxious debate about the future of the field that has spilled into the public discourse, further exacerbated on the one hand by news of universities reducing or eliminating Classics departments and on the other hand by false reports of classicists who hate Classics. There are those who vociferously proffer a version of the discipline that understands the legacy of the Greeks and the Romans as the foundation upon which the “progress” of western civilization has been to the benefit of the entire world. Needless to say, that same “enlightened” west has brought us the trans-Atlantic slave trade, colonialism, the Holocaust, and the atomic bomb. Others are perhaps less brazen but no less firm in their commitment to espousing a whitewashed narrative without self-critique, even as the field continues its slow but steady death spiral in the American university. We should not be surprised at all that fewer and fewer students, especially students of color, would be interested in this storyline.

Then there are those who recognize that the discipline itself has its roots in the legacy of white supremacy—male, elite, white supremacy—and that a proper reckoning with this past is absolutely necessary, lest we perpetuate the one story of alleged white greatness. But more importantly, a courageous group of scholars, from early career to near the finish line, has already done and continues to do the incredibly difficult but essential work of decentering, deconstructing, and decolonizing Classics and building something new—Shelly Haley, Patrice Rankine, Emily Greenwood, Jackie Murray, Caroline Stark, Sasha Mae Eccleston, Dan-el Padilla Peralta, Rosa Andújar, Sarah Derbew, Kelly Nguyen, to name but a few. Within the Society for Classical Studies, organizations like EOS Africana, the Asian and Asian American Classical Caucus, and the Mountaintop Coalition are helping to construct a new edifice. But there are many in our house who are well-intentioned, good teachers, great scholars, but content to teach and produce studies on philology, history, archaeology, and other related subjects as we always have. I might call this the mass of moderates in the middle. Many certainly resist and abhor white supremacy, but I wonder, is it enough to maintain the status quo in the American university? Shall we teach and mentor students, conduct research and publish, serve the profession, as we always have, and expect our field(s) to survive? I certainly recognize that these are good things, but are they enough?

In my own professional career, I witnessed the eventual demise of a Classics department for which I was a chair, and for a brief time I left the academy to work in the non-profit world, albeit continuing to engage with the ancient Mediterranean world and education at all levels. My time away from the university was transformative, as I recognized that the work of the academy, the arts, public outreach, and social justice together is a way forward to build a new Classics and to do battle against the -isms and the -phobias that plague our society. I ask can we do the same with Late Antiquity? What work ought we do, what partnerships should we build? How can we reach well beyond the academy to the public? How can we listen and learn, as well as evolve and educate? What would a Late Antiquity that is more diverse, inclusive, equitable, and accessible look like?

Young Richard Kim is Associate Professor and head of Classics and Mediterranean Studies, with an additional appointment in the Department of History at the University of Illinois Chicago.