Monday, June 7, 2010

Prophecy is a lost art


Apollo, an Olympian, was god of the Sun. He was also in charge of other matters, one of which was prophecy. That was one of his specialties. Now the Olympian gods could all see into the future a little, but Apollo was the only one who systematically offered this gift to humans. He established oracles, the most famous of which was Delphi, where he sanctified the priestess. She was called the Pythia, after the Python that was one of her incarnations. Kings and Aristocrats, and occasionally ordinary people, would come to Delphi to beg to know what was to be.

Among the supplicants was Croesus, King of Lydia. We remember him in the phrase "rich as Croesus" which is still nearly current. Perhaps he has come to be synonymous with wealth because it was in his time and kingdom that coins were invented-minted by Croesus in the seventh century B.C. (Lydia was in Anatolia, contemporary Turkey.) Clay money was a much earlier Sumerian invention. His ambition could not be contained within the boundaries of his small nation. And so, according to Herodotus's History, he got it into his head that it would be a good idea to invade and subdue Persia, then the superpower of Western Asia. Cyrus (کوروش) had united the Persians and Medes (Μῆδοι) and forged a mighty Persian Empire.

Naturally, Croesus had some degree of trepidation.

In order to judge the wisdom of invasion, he dispatched emissaries to consult the Delphic Oracle. The question that emissaries put on Croesus's behalf was, "What will happen if Croesus makes war on Persia?"

Without hesitation, the Pythia answered, "He will destroy a mighty empire."

"The Gods are with us," thought Croesus, or words to that effect. "Time to invade!"

Licking his chops and counting his satrapies, he gathered his mercenary armies. Croesus invaded Persia and was humiliatingly defeated. Not only was Lydian power destroyed, but he himself became, for the rest of his life, a pathetic functionary in the Persian court, offering little pieces of advice to often indifferent officials-a hanger-on ex-king.

Well, the injustice of it really got to him. After all, he had played by the rules. He had asked for advice from the Pythia, he had paid handsomely, and she had done him wrong. So he sent another emissary to the Oracle and asked, "How could you do this to me?" Here, from Herodotus's History, is the answer:

The prophecy given by Apollo ran that if Croesus made war upon Persia, he would destroy a mighty empire. Now in the face of that, if he had been well-advised, he should have sent and inquired again, whether it was his own empire or that of Cyrus that was spoken of. But Croesus did not understand what was said, nor did he make question again. And so he has no one to blame but himself.

If the Delphic Oracle were only a scam to fleece gullible monarchs, then of course it would have needed excuses to explain away the inevitable mistakes. Disguised ambiguities were its stock in trade.

Nevertheless, the lesson of the Pythia is germane: Even of oracles we must ask questions, intelligent questions, even when they seem to tell us exactly what we wish to hear. The policymakers must not blindly accept; they must understand. Ant they must not let their ambitions stand in the way of understanding.

The conversation of prophecy into policy must be made with care!



Source: Billions and Billions - Carl Sagan

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