War!  What is it good for, right?  Yet with all due respect to Edwin Starr and James Brown, civilizations have found innumerable reasons to initiate military conflict with rival states going back beyond the range of recorded history.  Whether the cause is a clash over real estate, control of trade routes, access to scarce resources, or simply an affront to one state’s collective sense of honor, war appears to be an option that never quite gets swept off the table.  Like it or not, armed intervention remains a tool in every nation’s toolbox even now in the 21st Century.

This week we watched as Turkey—a NATO ally—crossed the border into Syria.  Before that, Russia seized the Crimea.  Prior to that, Saudi Arabia invaded Yemen, the French conducted operations in Mali, and the US invaded both Afghanistan and Iraq.  Given the potential down-side to losing an armed conflict, the threat of violence on a national level drives budgets, encourages military planning and training, and inspires fear in entire populations.  War remains, in 2019, a far greater part of our consciousness than we might have expected when the Iron Curtain fell thirty years ago.

As much as this represents the state of affairs for us today, it was just as accurate a description of how the ancients looked at the world around them.  We carry with us an image of our ancient forebears fighting non-stop, always lashing out at someone, forgetting sometimes that the only bits of their history we are familiar with are those worthy of making movies today.  Life in the ancient world was not, necessarily, a life-long, kill-or-be-killed Spartacus episode.  Far from it, and already by the time of the Roman Republic a great deal of job specialization had already taken place, and while a farmer might have—for a number of reasons—made a great theoretical legionary, what of the musician, the actor, the lawyer, the tax collector, or the miller? 

Regardless, the number of professional soldiers had declined sharply in the more metropolitan civilizations, and, during a contingency, this could be a problem.  The list of specialized professions that had nothing to do with the military grew year-by-year, leading states at the time to seek alternative forms of national security from the tried-and-true hoplite militia.  Rome addressed this problem by requiring any male citizen who owned land to serve a total of 20 years in the military throughout the span of his life.  The North African city-state of Carthage, on the other hand, went the other direction, deciding to raise few troops from amongst the civilian population and relying instead upon hired mercenaries. 

Carthage’s success in establishing a vast trade network throughout the Western Mediterranean provided the funding for such an approach, but the more colonies and trade posts the Carthaginians set up, the more mercenaries were needed to protect them.  This meant, essentially, that Carthaginian trade success drove an increased need for military funding which in turn necessitated further expansion.  The basis of Rome’s economy in 264 BC was firmly agrarian, so very different from how we generally conceive of that republic, and the city-state felt little fiscal pressure to expand.

In short, then, while Carthage was growing its trade networks and building fleets and professional armies to defend them, Rome’s wars, to this point, had generally been reactive—and usually defensive—in nature.  Still, between 380 and 263 BC, Rome acquired outright or secured the allegiance of most of Italy south of the Alps through a series of wars with the Etruscans, the Samnites, the Greek colonies in the south, Epirotes from across the Adriatic Sea, and a number of Gallic tribes in the north.  

Instability introduced by raiders based out of the Sicilian city of Messana finally brought the two Western Mediterranean powers into conflict, launching the first of three wars that historical podcaster Dan Carlin has referred to as the heavyweight championship of the world.  The Punic Wars, as they’re called, would last from 264 to 146 BC resulting in the deaths of approximately one and a half million people, and the literal removal of Carthage from the map.

The First Punic War (264-241 BC) was fought for ownership of Sicily.  But fighting for an island—even a big island—posed problems for the Romans who had to this point largely been a land force.  Most of this war was fought on Sicily itself, though naval battles occurred in the surrounding seas and littorals.  Despite the requirement to create a blue(ish) water navy from scratch—and then defeat the very experienced navy of Carthage—the Romans prevailed, forcing conditions upon Carthage that would inevitably lead to the next war, the next round in the fight.

The Second Punic War (218-201 BC) was by far the most interesting, and could easily be described for much of its duration as “Carthage Strikes Back” (apologies to George Lucas!).  More than any other reason, this conflict sprouted from the angry seeds of the first war’s harsh treatment of the defeated.  Coupled with the emergence of one of history’s greatest military minds, Hannibal Barca, this would be the closest Rome came to falling until its actual destruction at the hands of the Visigoths in 410 AD. 

The Second Punic War is the conflict best known for Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps and the series of stupendous victories over Rome that should have brought the Republic to its knees … but didn’t.  Hannibal’s destruction of three armies in three years accounted for some 100,000 Roman military casualties and, following the victory at Cannae, left Carthage for the moment with the only coherent armed force south of Rome.  And yet, over the next fifteen years Roman generals like Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus (dubbed “The Delayer”) and Publius Cornelius Scipio (awarded the honorific “Africanus”) would eventually turn the tide and bring catastrophe upon their Carthaginian foe as well as another set of humiliating peace terms.

The Third Punic War (149-146 BC) was probably not inevitable as Carthage seemed to have learned its lesson, accepting, by-and-large, its status beneath the rising colossus of Rome.  And yet Carthage’s focus on the economy and rapid repayment of the war indemnity virtually begged for the attention of Rome’s wealthier classes.  While no longer a military threat, Carthage’s economic success now made it an attractive target and so, once again, Rome went to war, invading what is modern Tunisia, laying siege to the city of Carthage, and, following a three-year siege, erasing it from all but history.  The probably apocryphal story of Roman soldiers sowing salt over the remains of the city nicely captures the ultimate conclusion of 118 years of on-again, off-again conflict.

The result?  Carthage—in 246 BC, master of colonies along the entire North African coast, on every large island in the Western Mediterranean, and much of modern Spain, and running more trade routes with a greater number of trade partners than could easily be counted when the wars began—was simply gone.  The Roman Republic, a rising Italian power at the start of it all, now ruled an empire in all but name, having seized lands in Gaul, Spain, Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, and North Africa.  Rome had become monstrously rich and incredibly powerful in a short span of time, but combat losses, wealth disparity, and political infighting had taken their toll, rotting the underlying structure of Roman society and paving the way for multiple civil wars, social discord on a grand scale, and the dissolution of the Republic.

Asking the song’s leading question then, you’d likely get very different answers from the wide range of people present at the time.  For the Roman aristocrats, the Patricians, war had brought military dominance and gravitas—honor for the state—and limitless venues to achieve personal and familial gain.  For the Roman business class, the Equestrians, the wars had brought unimaginable wealth in the form of looted treasure, business opportunities, and slaves by the boat-load.  For the Roman lower classes, the Plebeians, war had brought everything from destitution and the loss of family lands on one hand, to opportunity and social mobility on the other, though the former seems to have been the more likely outcome.  And for the Roman slaves … <sigh> … what can you say at this point other than there began to be a lot more of them, working the massive estates of the wealthy and any other job for which a freeman either couldn’t be found, or couldn’t be induced to perform?

And as for the Carthaginians?  Had they been asked what the wars had been good for, I’ve no doubt they could have written the modern lyrics themselves.  “Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.” 

M.G. Haynes