Wisdom First, Then Victory

At the entrance to the Acropolis in Athens, on the way to the great temple of Athena known as the Parthenon, there is a small temple to Nike, the Greek goddess of victory. The temple is small, as befits a minor goddess, and clearly overshadowed by the Parthenon. The subservience of Nike to Athena is further emphasized by a fifth century BCE marble frieze depicting Nike unstrapping her sandal in preparation to enter the inner sanctum with Athena. The frieze is striking, not least because of its titillating depiction of Nike’s wet garments through which her body clearly stands out. The erotic, homoerotic overtones suggest that Nike is preparing for an interaction with Athena that goes beyond the normal temple ritual. The basic meaning is quite clear: Nike, victory, is to mix with her superior, Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare. Victory should be subservient to wisdom.

The homoeroticism of the frieze is in contrast to the oft depicted sexual relationship between Aphrodite and Ares, the god of war. Nike and Athena are a counter to the hyper-masculinity elicited by warfare. The Greek word for military courage, ἀνδρεία, comes from the Greek word for man, ἀνήρ. Yet victory, as depicted in this frieze, is not governed by men, but by a woman, the goddess of wisdom. Athena, often depicted with a helmet and spear, is not averse to war as such; but as goddess of judgment and justice, she also knows when to put an end to wars.

Thus, at the end of Aeschylus’ Oresteia trilogy, Athena appears ex machina on what would later become the entrance to the acropolis to put an end to the bloody revenge cycle of Agammemnon’s family who have been killing each other for generations. Athena acts to establish rule of law to stop the revenge killings. Athena’s action, in Aeschylus’ depiction, is not completely fair, either to the victims or the perpetrators, or to those, like Agamemnon’s son, Orestes, who are both (Orestes killed his mother, who had killed his father, who had killed his sister). But it would not be fair to keep this cycle going, and indeed it would bring ruin upon all Mycenae and Athens as the cycle of revenge killings would grow to include more and more people. Victory in this case is not so much discarded, as understood in light of what is ultimately greater for everyone.

In Israel today, we are afraid of losing our hold on victory. But our war is not merely a military one. Hamas seeks to delegitimize us in the eyes of the world and to remove of us from the community of democratic nations. When we attack our courts, attack the notion of separation of powers and rule of law, we help them. When we attack freedom of press, we help them. When we speak with unnecessary aggression, rather than civil diplomacy to foreign leaders, we help them. When we deny the establishment of a National Commission of Inquiry into the events of October 7, we help them. When we speak of victory in terms taken from our greatest enemies (Endsieg, Nitzahon Muhlat, Wehrkraftzersetzung, Pegi’ah be-ma’amatz ha-milhamti, “concentrating” the Gazans, starvation as a tactic), we help them. When we identify all Palestinians or all Arabs as the enemy, rather than Hamas and Islamic Jihad, we help them. When we give up on the lives of Israeli hostages so that we can exact greater revenge, we help them. We would be wise to put the future of Israel as a member of the community of democratic nations, along with its many economic benefits, before our desire for the ever-elusive “total victory.”

In our own tradition, we have taken great pains to remember our ancient heroes as more than just warriors. David and Solomon certainly had their share of war, but our Rabbis remember them primarily as authors of Psalms and Proverbs. It is their literary output that makes them truly great, even if the Philistine kingdom outlived them. In doing this, the Rabbis emphasize the pursuits of peace as the ultimate goal, making victory subservient to wisdom.