Cultural Analysis:
Mythological Commodification
Mythological Commodification
Lefebvre, Jules Joseph. The Death of Priam. 1861, École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, Paris.
Benjamin P. H. Miller
Beginning in 1873, German archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann undertook a series of excavations in northwestern Anatolia, aiming to uncover Troy, the city made famous by Homeric epics such as The Iliad, The Odyssey, and later Virgil's The Aeneid. According to legend, it is the location of a famous conflict fought between the Trojans and the Greeks over the hand of the beautiful Helen of Troy. While the existence of heroes like Achilles, Odysseus, or Aeneas, as well as Goddesses who feature prominently, such as Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena (Roman counterparts Juno, Venus, and Minerva), are unlikely to have existed within the reality of the war, the fact remains that Troy was a real place, occupying a key point in trade between Europe and Asia. I propose approaching these objects through a concept I have termed "Mythological Commodification," and throughout the rest of this page will explained my theory great detail.
Throughout Schliemann’s various excavations, he unearthed hundreds of objects, ranging from bronze spear points to elaborate gold jewelry. Schliemann proposed that many of these objects were directly connected to the mythic Trojan War; and throughout his life, Schliemann (whether intentionally or unintentionally) perpetuated this misconception, sensationalizing his work, and fortifying his methods and findings. His books and publication dispatches aimed at informing the public of his work, served to romanticize the study of archaeology and contribute to his celebrity status. While not exactly like Karl Marx’s Commodity Fetishism theory, there is something to be said for the fact that Schliemann (while perhaps unintentionally) misrepresented his objects. Furthermore, the mystical nature of Troy as perpetuated by Schliemann is particularly intriguing when compared to the mystical nature that Marx proposed is created by the system of capitalism. Wherein Marx’s theory specifically questions the fact that the system of capitalism misrepresents labor practices, Schliemann’s excavations add incorrect context to his own discoveries. It must also be noted that many of the items Schliemann unearthed were of precious metals, indicating that as raw materials alone, they were valuable. However, with Schliemann’s added claims that they were the relics of the mythologically significant Troy, their value is artificially inflated. In terms of dubbing Schliemann’s actions as a sort of “Mythological Commodification,” something must be said of the fact that Schliemann never derived any sort of actual monetary profit out of his archeology work - but that’s not to say that Schliemann did not derive other benefits or further his own personal goals in some form, i.e., global recognition and prestige.
The commodity nature of Schliemann’s discoveries is furthered simply by the time period in which he conducted his excavations and the way in which that informed how he showcased his accomplishments. In the wake of the Industrial Revolution of the nineteenth century, historian Thomas Richards argues that European industrial complexes directly led to the birth of a Victorian commodity culture specifically in Great Britain. Schliemann’s work even brought him to London where he became an honorary member of the of the Society of Antiquaries of London. Even so, he struggled for recognition in British academic circles, likely serving as a rationale for his attempts to donate his collections to influential learning institutions. It’s clear how the reshaped social values and transformed meaning of consumption informed Schliemann’s actions, embedding him in the commodity culture of the time period. Most obvious is the fact that Schliemann engaged in public awareness of his work, similar to the way a businessman might advertise goods to be sold. This is particularly obvious with the widely circulated image of Heinrich Schliemann’s second wife, Sophia Schliemann, wearing “Priam’s Treasure” (e.g. see fig 9). What is also unique about this specific campaign on Schliemann’s behalf is the way it falls squarely into the social phenomenon known as the Great Masculine Renunciation. Coined by psychologist J. C. Flügel in his 1930 book The Psychology of Clothes, the Great Masculine Renunciation occurred at the turn of the nineteenth century, and was marked by a shift from the flamboyant and excessive fashions of the early centuries towards more muted and simple tailoring, but only in men’s clothing. As Alexandra Fury suggests, it was a “revolution in cloth” that occurred as values shifted in the way of other Atlantic Revolutions of the same time period. And this shift of values is directly reflected by Heinrich Schliemann because although the gold jewelry that he discovered, and titled as “Priam’s Treasure,” was in fact for a man, he instead chose to have his wife wear it. This directly ties into Schliemann’s desire that this image to be digestible by a modern Western audience, thus highlighting the fact that while also an educational campaign, it was more akin to an advertising one.
Fig. 1
Cole, Thomas. The Course of Empire: Destruction. 1836, New York Historical Society, New York City.
Through the Lens of D.W. Winnicott
Benjamin P. H. Miller and Lilia Werve
In addition, as an eager classicist, Schliemann truly believed in the historical reality of the stories created by Homer and Virgil. Homer’s account was first written down around the eight century B.C.E., and while academics to this day debate the veracity of the epic, they do generally agree on the fact that the events occurred in Hisarlik around 1180 B.C.E., towards the end of the Bronze Age. As Joshua Hammer writes for Smithsonian Magazine, historians cannot seem to agree about Troy’s size, how the conflict started, “whether [the city] was a powerful regional player or a minor backwater, and whether the characters described by Homer were based on real people or were as mythical as the Greek gods.” But Schliemann was not a historian, so the nature of these specific facts simply did not matter to him. What did matter to him was perpetuating the myths he had grown so close too. Perhaps his dedication to proving these stories of antiquity to be, at the very least, based somewhat in reality, was more of a way to confirm what he simply wanted to believe. The most effective way to do this is by having an audience or group of people who believe the very same thing and thus create a community based on this shared (albeit possibly incorrect) understanding. In a similar sense, perhaps Troy represented some sort of transitional object to Heinrich Schliemann. As D. W. Winnicott proposed in “Transitional Objects and Transitional Phenomenon: A Study of the First Not-Me Possession” (1951), a transitional object is essentially an item that helps bridge the gap between the internal subjective world and the external objective world, specifically in the time between infancy and adolescence. Coming from a low socioeconomic background, Schliemann was forced to grow up particularly fast (not necessarily compared to other children at the time of similar socioeconomic backgrounds, but certainly compared to children of latter centuries), working from an early age in order to support himself and his family, and thus taking on a more adult role both within the family structure as well as society. While I cannot speak to the mentally developed state of Heinrich Schliemann, it would not surprise me if this forced Schliemann into a sort of arrested development around the time he became fascinated with Troy and the Classical World as a whole. Thus, it makes sense that when he became more financially stable, Schliemann would return to this sort of nostalgic passion he once held and be dedicated to proving the myths from his childhood as the reality of history, and effectively selling this version of the ancient world to his contemporary audience.
In a similar vein, Sophia Schliemann's decision to gift her husband's objects to the Smithsonian Institution after his death could also be read through the lens of Winnicott's notion of transitional objects. Sophia was Heinrich's second wife, selected at the age of 17 as one of three options presented to him by his Greek tutor-- and Sophia's uncle-- Bishop Theokletos Vimpos after Heinrich tasked him with finding a "black-haired Greek woman in the Homeric spirit" to become his wife (Valavanēs 121). It is also reported that Sophia was assaulted by a foreman when present during the 1873 excavations and shortly departed the site due to the unexpected death of her father (Allen 163). Heinrich later falsified the records, exaggerating her role in the excavations and even crafting a narrative that Sophia smuggled the Treasure of Priam away from the site in her shawl (Allen 163). These details help to illustrate the complicated position that she occupied within Heinrich's larger project: both central to the mythology he constructed around himself and yet denied agency within it.
Seen through this lens, the objects Sophia ultimately donated had long functioned as extensions of her husband's narrative rather than her own. For decades, the objects anchored her to the role Heinrich assigned to her as muse, assistant, or even mythological guardian of the Homeric vision he idolized. Winnicott's concept of transitional objects allows for a more nuanced explanation of her later decision to part with these artifacts. Transitional objects occupy the space between internal obligatory emotional attachments and the external autonomous world, between what one feels compelled to hold onto and what one must release to take ownership over the past. By transferring these artifacts to a public institution, Sophia was not simply continuing her effort to preserve her husband's legacy, she was also shifting the emotional burden of that preservation away from herself. In this sense, the donation can be understood as both devotion and detachment. It was a way of honoring the narrative Sophia had spent the majority of her life supporting, while also creating the distance necessary to step outside of it. Seen through Winnicott’s framework, her decision underscores how transitional objects can facilitate a recalibration of attachment, allowing someone to honor a lingering bond while reshaping the terms of their relationship to it.
Sophia's life after Heinrich's death reinforces this reading. She continued to lecture on his work and even edited and published his autobiography, but she also cultivated pursuits that extended beyond his legacy. She was a member of Athenian high society and supported many charitable endeavors, most notably by sponsoring and serving on the board of a sanatorium for tuberculosis patients in Goudi. In light of Winnicott's idea of transitional objects, these later pursuits suggest a gradual shift. She remained connected to Heinrich's memory, but she relocated that attachment into broader social and institutional forms that allowed for her own identity to develop.
Troy's Effect on Europe
Benjamin P. H. Miller
Troy, and the world of Antiquity at large, had long held fascination in Europe, and more importantly in Great Britain, long before Schliemann’s discoveries. One of the most notable examples of this can be seen in the writings of Geoffrey of Monmouth, a monk who in 1136 created his principal work Historia regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain). Within this text, originally published in Latin, Geoffrey asserts that he was translating an earlier British work and presenting a truthful account of the rich tapestry that is British history. Within this “truthful account,” he elaborates on a legend from Nennius who himself claims that the earliest settlers of Britain were descended from Aeneas, among other survivors of the Trojan War. The veracity of this account is highly contested, as is the existence of Aeneas himself, as Virgil’s historical epic The Aeneid tows a fine line between historically backed fact and mere Roman sensationalism. Nevertheless, Britain had long sought to justify its existence by citing mythological figures within their ancestry - yet another example of both the historical and mythological record being commandeered, for some sort of gain, in this case for apparent political gain.
Europe and Neoclassicism
Benjamin P. H. Miller
Europe would continue to cling to the ancient world throughout early modern history, but an important development surfaced in the 1760s with the emergence of the Neoclassical Art Movement. That Movement, which reached its height around the 1780s and 1790s and lasted roughly until the 1850s, was marked by an emphasis on austere linear design and depiction of Classical subject matter and themes. Based on the aesthetics of antiquity, the art style, which was present far beyond mere paintings (including architecture, literature, and music), brought in Greek and Roman elements that focused on harmony, universality, and idealism. It represented the want, or maybe even the need, to return to simpler times and was a direct rejection of the Rococo style popular at the time that was seen as frivolous and overly decadent.
It is also important to contextualize the Neoclassical Art Movement within the social and political landscape of the time as the first industrial revolution was underway in Europe, marking a significant shift away from the pastoral life that Neoclassicists found easy to romanticise. Not only that, but the late eighteenth century also marked a shift towards the Enlightenment period, with politicians and philosophers alike advocating for expanding rights and the long-established monarchies beginning to face tangible social threat. In this thread I am reminded of Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire, a popular political influencer of the time, who in a famous portrait, modeled herself as the Roman goddess Diana, a surprising common phenomena among aristocratic ladies of the time (e.g. see fig 2). Here, classical imagery was used in a propaganda-esqe way, likening the noble class to that of the Roman gods, highlighting both Georgiana’s power and rank in a very appealing and digestible manner. This century was also the time of Enlightenment philosophers such as John Locke, Jean-Jaques Rousseau, and Montesquieu, each of whom wrote extensively on the merit of democratic values and systems of government, and who themselves were influenced by the great philosophers of antiquity.
Fig. 2
Cosway, Maria Luisa Caterina Cecilia. The Duchess of Devonshire as Cynthia (Diana/Artemis) from Spenser's 'The Faerie Queene.' 1782, Chatsworth House, Derbyshire Dales.
Fig. 3
Regnault, Jean Baptiste. The The Judgement of Paris. 1820, Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, Stuttgart.
However, while the Neoclassical Movement marked a re-popularization of classical themes, it was not as drastic a shift as it may seem. For decades and even centuries prior and following, these themes were seen commonly in paintings, often reflecting the fashions and architecture of the day as well as varying artistic styles beyond simply Neoclassical. That being said, what marks the Neoclassical style as different from these other interpretations is the fact that this movement marked a return to accuracy of the historical narrative, albeit with some modern flair. The images to the left and below illustrate this exactly, each depicting the Judgement of Paris, a pivotal moment in the story of Troy, yet in distinctly different ways. To the left is the scene in the Neoclassical styles and depicts heightened emotion and bright colors (e.g. see fig. 3). From left to right below are the very same scene, the first being in the medieval style (e.g. see fig. 4), the second in the Renaissance style, (e.g. see fig. 5) the third is done in the Pre-Raphaelite Style (e.g. see fig. 6), and the last is done in the style of Victorian realism (e.g. see fig. 7).
Fig. 4
Judgement of Paris. Bucolics, Georgics, and the Aeneid. 1450-1460, Riccardiana Library of Florence, Florence.
Fig. 5
Botticelli, Sandro. The Judgement of Paris. 1485-1488, Giorgio Cini (Galleria di Palazzo Cini), Venice.
Fig. 6
Wagrez, Jaques Clemment. The Judgement of Paris. 1887, Private Collection.
Fig. 7
Storey, George Adolphus. The Judgement of Paris. 1877, Glasgow Museums Resource Centre, Glasgow
The aspect of the Neoclassical Movement that figures into art is interesting because of the way that it directly commodifies the values found within Neoclassicism. By objectifying the history and the myths (literally being made into consumer objects to be sold), there is a clear profit motive to adopt and perpetuate Neoclassicism. But it is also difficult to maintain such a cynical view on the world of art, as it is impossible to truly identify what drives an artist to create. In Thomas Cole’s set of five paintings called “The Course of Empire,” while his subject matter does not directly reference the Emergence and the Fall of Troy, it is impossible to rule out the influence this city likely had on him (e.g. see fig 1). When viewed in tandem with Edward Gibbons’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Cole acknowledges the cyclical nature of the empire especially because Rome had long been seen as a sort of successor to the City of Troy, as proposed in Virgil’s The Aeneid. This cyclical nature is illustrated by the modern author G. Michael Hopf, who wrote: “Hard times create strong men. Strong men create good times. Good times create weak men. And, weak men create hard times.” Although written almost two centuries after Cole’s works, and not even in relation to Troy nor Rome, it holds a surprising aptness. Even so, surface level analysis of Cole’s work places it neatly into the consumerist identity of Europe that was fascinated with Troy and antiquity. Although Heinrich Schliemann cites specific instances within his upbringing that inspired his own love for antiquity and more specifically Troy, one must also recognize the European zeitgeist that focused so heavily on the ancient world, and the effect that likely had on Schliemann.
Gifts Within the Trojan Story
Benjamin P. H. Miller
What is made unique in the conversation of commoditization, obscured reality, and antiquity is the actual myth of the legendary Troy. Given that this project is centered around the gift of the Trojan objects given by Sophia Schliemann to the Smithsonian National Museum of National History, it is almost ironic that the story of Troy and more importantly its fall are surrounded by examples of exchange. From the very beginning of Homer’s The Iliad is the idea of the deceptive and sometimes even dangerous consequences of gifts. Afterall, it is the goddess Eris’s gift of the Golden Apple to the “fairest” that sparks discord between the goddesses Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite. In their own attempt to end the argument they seek the judgement of the shepherd Paris, each promising him different gifts in exchange from him naming one of them as deserving of the Golden Apple (e.g. see fig 3, fig 4, fig 5, fig 6, fig 7). Specifically Hera offers Paris power as the ruler of Europe and Asia; Athena tempts Paris with wisdom and exceptional skill in battle, making him the greatest warrior; and Aphrodite wins by offering, and eventually delivering, to Paris the love of the most beautiful mortal woman in the world: Helen of Troy. These first two instances of gift giving represent the dangerous aspects of exchange, specifically when a gift is given with malicious intent or when a gift is given without acknowledgment of the rightful owner. This also brings to light the fact that Helen of Troy herself, was seen as an object- she was a commodity to be given to Paris. While this really speaks to larger themes of ownership by the gods within the Greek religious system, as well as societal views of women at the time, it cements the idea of gifts and commodities being at the heart of this myth. While a cursory reading of these two instances may appear as not fitting into Marcel Mauss’s theories surrounding the gift giving process as a means to create and secure relationships that he establishes in The Gift (1925), it does align with the notion that gifts are often given with intent beyond kindness. In fact a key point Mauss makes is that gifts can embody not only friendship and positive social bonds but also opposition, rivalry, submerged danger and violence. In the case of Eris, she intentionally sought to incite chaos after she wasn’t invited to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis; and while there was not competition to give a gift in return, competition did emerge between the goddesses who thought they deserved the Golden Apple the most.
Fig. 8
Motte, Heni-Paul. Le Cheval de Troie (The Trojan Horse). 1874, Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Connecticut.
The last gift of note within the myth of the Trojan War is the infamous Trojan Horse. Concocted by the cunning Odysseus and described in Homer’s The Odyssey, this “gift” was given to the Trojan people as a sign of sign of surrender by the Greek forces who had been unable to penetrate Tory’s impressive fortifications (these fortifications would be more than penetrated by Schliemann centuries later with his invasive excavation techniques and extensive use of dynamite). In short, the metaphorical white flag in fact hid the Greek forces within it and functioned as an effective tool to smuggle them inside the walls of Troy. The ensuing battle resulted in rape and pillage and brought Troy to her knees - this battle was the final nail in the coffin for the once great city. Henri Paul Motte’s painting Le Cheval de Troie (excellently captures the moment before disaster, as Greek forces emerge beneath the cover of night (e.g. see fig 8). His use of dark and light values, especially the shadow of the horse, effectively foreshadows the eventual fall of the city. These three instances all represent the often duplicitous nature of gift giving. Through a Karl Marx-oriented lens of commodity fetishism, the deceptive power of the horse is reflective of the deceptive nature of commodification that results in a capitalist system. In the case of the Trojan Horse, perhaps there was an element of rationality in their minds towards the danger of the gift that was ultimately silenced by their simple want to believe that it truly represented an end to the fighting. In a similar sense, consumers truly want to believe that the value of objects that they buy and engage with truly are based on some intrinsic truth, rather than the labor that goes into it.
However, in this specific instance, it would be folly to ignore the theories of Carl Menger. Whereas Marx built his own theories on the Labor Theory of Value that asserts that one hour of work is equivalent to one hour of value, Menger counters this with his own assertion that value is subjective. Where both theorists agree that value is not inherent, rather than deriving value from labor, Menger suggests that value instead comes from the consumer and the ability of a product to suit the consumer’s needs. Menger’s theory takes into account the idea of scarcity and its effect on market prices and supply and demand, whereas Marx’s ideas, especially in regards to communism, are far more idealistic because they fail to take into account these key economic principles. Labor can and should contribute to the price of a commodity, but to derive profit solely from that aspect of a product’s nature fails to take into account whether there is a need for that product in the first place and how that desire might affect its price. This is not to say that one theorist is more correct than another, but simply that these theories are nuanced. Close readings of the two may actually suggest that both Marx and Menger have more in common than is initially presented.
Ideas of exchange and commodification are influential throughout the myth of Troy, and these themes are reflected well beyond the fall of the empire. To call this unique phenomenon “Mythological Commodification” may fail to fully encapsulate the multifaceted nature of the way the myth has been commandeered to justify a people’s existence; strengthen social, political, and artistic movements; and secure power and prestige. However, Heinrich Schliemann was not the first man to benefit from the myth of Troy, and the prevalence of its themes and stories being told and retold in Hollywood (and elsewhere in entertainment), only further add to this notion. A new film Odyssey epic is even expected to premier in 2026, representing the enduring legacy of Troy, and its consistent and profitable marketability.