When most people think of warfare in the ancient Mediterranean world, they picture armored men fighting with heavy spears. The Greek hoplite—the quintessential, heavily armored “man of bronze"—has long dominated the popular imagination.
Gregory S. Aldrete is out to change this perception. Aldrete, a professor of history and humanistic studies, is an author, along with Scott Bartell and Alicia Aldrete, of Reconstructing Ancient Linen Body Armor: Unraveling the Linothorax Mystery, just out from Johns Hopkins University Press. The book examines a widely documented but rarely studied phenomenon: Many ancient Mediterranean warriors very likely opted for linen armor, not bronze.
The book stems from Aldrete’s Linothorax Project, a six-year research effort at the University of Wisconsin at Green Bay, which involved hundreds of students, several faculty members, and his wife, Alicia. It all started, the historian explains, when Bartell, one of his students, asked about the depiction of Alexander the Great’s body armor in a Pompeii mosaic. Alexander appeared to be wearing linen armor, yet there was no scholarly research to account for this. More questions and mutual enthusiasm for the topic then “mushroomed into this enormous project,” says Aldrete.
It is easy to understand why linothorax (literally, “linen corselet” in Greek) is understudied. “Scholars study what survived, and this cloth didn’t survive,” says Aldrete. A second major research obstacle is the general skepticism that body armor made from linen could prove effective against arrows and spears.
Reconstructing Ancient Linen Body Armor fills this gap in scholarship by examining the literary, visual, and practical evidence for linothorax. The book’s findings: Linen body armor was most popular from roughly 650 to 200 BC, and was worn by Alexander the Great’s armies, Hannibal’s Nubian troops, and certain Roman forces, among many others. Linothorax had great practical advantages. Unlike metal, it could be manufactured relatively cheaply, was easily refitted and customized, could be mended or repaired quickly, and allowed a relatively free range of motion.
In addition to traditional research, the authors practice “reconstructive archaeology,” recreating and testing linen body armor based as closely as possible on historical texts and depictions. The Linothorax Project employed weavers to layer their linen creations, students to test ancient methods of gluing to strengthen the linen, and local bow hunters to shoot the armor from specified distances, with arrowheads based on ancient models. Those experiments show linothorax to be surprisingly effective. In fact, a linothorax one centimeter thick could protect a warrior from an otherwise fatal arrow.
The authors acknowledge that some in academe may find reconstructive archaeology to be “uncomfortably speculative,” pointing out their choice to address not only scholarly historians but military-history enthusiasts and ancient warfare re-enactors as well. Furthermore, because linothorax suffers from “a lack of definitive surviving evidence,” the authors write, “we must do the best we can with what we have.”
Aldrete and his team took several measures to ensure the historical accuracy of their linothorax. They concentrated on an ancient strategy of laminating linen materials and experimented widely with fabrics, glues, and weaponry. Ancient glues in particular proved difficult to work with (one turned into a “noxious mold”). “When we used rabbit glue,” Aldrete says, “my Labrador retriever was convinced I was making a really tasty treat.”
While there is an “uneasy relationship between re-enactors and academics,” Aldrete says, he’d like to see more interaction, and more acceptance of different types of knowledge about the ancient world. He stressed the importance of practical knowledge, such as whether or not ancient clothing was comfortable or restrictive. Aldrete is known for turning up to lectures in ancient garb. “There’s something you learn from wearing Roman armor 10 hours a day, marching around in it, that you can’t learn from reading Tacitus.”
The Linothorax Project received a good amount of media attention (including from the Discovery Channel, MSNBC, U.S. News & World Report, and Der Spiegel), something Aldrete considered both a blessing and a curse. “While it was gratifying to see the interest in ancient history ... it was also a constant source of frustration when our work was presented in simplified, misleading, or outright incorrect form,” the authors write.
Still, Aldrete emphasizes how necessary it is to engage with the public: “Just look at headlines: Humanities are under attack. I’ve always felt an obligation to sell or explain the value of your discipline.” And thanks to television coverage, the Linothorax Project researchers were able to use a gel ballistics dummy to test their armor and more accurately determine which shots would be fatal.
Asked how he was able to maintain students’ enthusiasm for the project over the course of six years, Aldrete chuckles. “Where else do students get to hit things with an ax and call it research? Where else do I get to shoot students with arrows and call it work?”
The project is now largely over. “We came to a logical stopping point,” says Aldrete, noting the publication of the book and his satisfaction with the research. Still, he’s already starting—with his students’ help—to look toward the future: “We’ve gotten very interested in the strategy and logistics of marching with spears.”
