Archimedes and the military-industrial complex of Syracuse

Syracuse was a small city state in Sicily. Its king was Hieron, a good ruler loved by his subjects. One day, a good many years into his reign, Hieron invited the great scientist Archimedes to the palace. He needed his help.

“Nice to see you. It is time we had a chat. You know I have always admired your brain, and I am not the only one. You are mentioned in half of my correspondence. People always ask: ‘What is the old man up to? What is his latest invention?’ And I always tell them the truth, that you are wonderful. I think what you have produced in the last decade is more than two dozen ordinary mortals could do in their lifetime.”

“Sire,” smiled Archimedes, “you must have something up your sleeve, the way you heap such praise upon me.”

“No, I just happen to know the facts and I admire your achievements in mathematics, physics, astronomy and engineering. I understand nothing of mathematics myself, but I know you are famous for serious things like finding the area of a circle, and silly things too. Do you remember, when you ran up and down the main street, entirely naked, shouting Eureka? It had something to do with bath water. And once you told me that the Earth is a big sphere. Another silly thing. But your inventions are really marvellous. Archimedes’ screw for raising water is well known and used all over the Mediterranean from Beirut to the Pillars of Hercules. And your ‘lever principle’ has equal fame. First, I laughed when you said, ‘Give me a fixed point and I shall move the Earth’. But then you provided a demonstration. By attaching a couple of ropes to my biggest ship you managed to haul it ashore by turning a wheel. We used to need at least a hundred mules before, to do the same. You did it with a wheel. What a performance! Sheer magic!”

“Sire, I do not practise magic.”

“I know, I know, but it looks like magic to the uninitiated. Let me ask you something else. Is it true, I heard some rumours, that you play with stones and catapults?”

“Yes, I have done some experiments. I think it is high time that I should include dynamics in my studies.”

“What would you say if I told you that I would pay for your experiments.”

“Thank you, Sire, but I do not need your money. I can do those experiments comfortably with my two slaves.”

“Let me ask you then something else, Archimedes. Can you see threats that would disturb our peaceful lives?”

“No, Sicily is peaceful. I see no threats. “

“I hope you are right, but I am worried. We lie, a small city-state, at the intersection of the spheres of influence of the two superpowers, Rome and Carthage. I know you have a limited interest in politics but, as I suppose you know, that great powers are always set to expand their empires. They want to conquer, they want to be the sole power in the world. I don’t know which one it will be, but I guarantee that one of them will want to swallow us up. I don’t like predictions, but sometimes it is useful to look into the future. I’ll tell you a scenario that looks quite likely. Carthage wants to destroy Rome. How can they do it? They can avoid the sea by going through Hispania and the Alps. That’s not feasible, so they won’t do that. What is the alternative? Attack Rome by first conquering Sicily. You and I, we will not survive that attack. We are too old. We will be killed. Women and able-bodied males will be enslaved. Can you envisage that scenario? 

“Yes.”

“Can you see any alternatives?”

“An alternative is a preventive war by the Romans. They would want to occupy us before the Carthaginians do.”

“Archimedes, you surprise me. You sound like a statesman. Anyway, our conclusion is clear: we both believe that we are defenceless against the superpowers. True?”

“True. But there is not much we can do.”

“You see, Archimedes, this is where we differ. Yes, we are defenceless against the superpowers, but that is today. In a year’s time we shall have an absolutely perfect defence system. You will build that. You can do it. You are a genius. Once you put your mind to it, you could build war machines the world has never seen before.”

“But, of course, you need resources. My Treasury will open at your command. You will need many craftsmen. I shall pay for them. I shall pay them well. We shall put the whole of our industry in the service of defence. We need to create a military-industrial complex, nothing less. It will be expensive. It will mean fewer feasts at the public expense and fewer theatre performances. That’s the price we must pay. But it will be worth it. With your leadership we could make this city impregnable. I mean impregnable. Anyone attacking us will have to withdraw with a bloody face, and that includes the superpowers. Archimedes, will you do it?”

“It is quite a challenge, Sire, to put my theories into practice. You mean that I shall have the support of all the industry of Syracuse: the blacksmiths, the ironmongers, the carpenters, the joiners…?“

“Even the cobblers, if you want them.”

“I shall do it!” 

Archimedes took the job. He worked day and night, summer and winter. By the time an armada of Roman ships appeared in front of the walls of Syracuse in c.210 BC, the defence system was ready. How did the Roman navy fare? Not very well. We are lucky to have for that the account of Polybius, one of the most prolific historians of ancient times. In his Life of Marcellus (written about thirty years after the event, translated in the 17th century by John Dryden) he describes what happened. First, he starts with a general observation.

“The Romans failed to reckon with the talents of Archimedes or to foresee that in some cases the genius of one man is far more effective than superiority in numbers. This lesson they now learned by experience.”

Polybius then goes into details how Archimedes’ war machines worked. The most dramatic is the one when he tells us what happened to the attacking Roman ships:

“Huge poles thrust out from the walls over the ships sunk: some by the great weights which they let down from on high upon them; others they lifted up into the air by an iron hand or beak like a crane’s beak and, when they had drawn them up by the prow, and set them on end upon the poop, they plunged them to the bottom of the sea; or else the ships, drawn by engines within, and whirled about, were dashed against steep rocks that stood jutting out under the walls, with great destruction of the soldiers that were aboard them. A ship was frequently lifted up to a great height in the air (a dreadful thing to behold), and was rolled to and fro, and kept swinging, until the mariners were all thrown out, when at length it was dashed against the rocks, or let fall.” 

So much from Polybius. Did the Romans take the city from the land? No, there too they were repulsed. But, unfortunately for the Syracusans, a couple of years later Marcellus managed to conquer the city. Not by military means, but by subterfuge: by treason. A dissatisfied Syracusan (perhaps one whose application for a defence contract had been turned down) opened the city gates at night.

What happened to Archimedes? Plutarch records the legend that when a Roman officer, sent by Marcellus to capture him alive, wanted to apprehend him, Archimedes told the warrior to get off the circles he was drawing in the sand: “Noli tangere circulos meos.” Unable to recognise genius, the enraged officer drew his sword and killed one of the greatest scientists of the ancient world.

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