The study of Hellenistic kingship has long oscillated between two poles: regional diversity and the search for unifying ideological structures. The three books under review offer an opportunity to transcend this dichotomy by examining how power was simultaneously constructed from above (royal ideology) and negotiated through normative ethical frameworks. They synergise well in discussing Hellenistic monarchy and rulership from the death of Alexander III to the consolidation of the Roman Principate: Holton examines the ideological construction and consolidation of basileia during the Diadochoi period, while Mendels reconstructs the (un)written ethical codes governing conquest and interstate relations in the Hellenistic and early Roman worlds (the long Hellenistic period).
Holton’s first book, Alexander’s Successors and the Creation of Hellenistic Kingship, sets out to provide the sort of diachronic and comparative treatment that earlier works had once considered impossible: a unified study of early Hellenistic kingship as an ‘international’ phenomenon without smoothing away regional variation. He builds the argument step by step and does so convincingly. Chapter 1 is a useful way to consider the research questions and approaches to (early) Hellenistic kingship, to examine the trajectories of previous scholarship and to question the limits of each perspective. This is a familiar point handled programmatically: Diodoros’ account of Demetrios’ victory at Salamis in 306 bce and Antigonos Monophthalmos’ decision to wear the diadem and proclaim himself king, followed swiftly by Ptolemaios, Seleukos, Lysimachos and Cassandros. The ‘Year of the Kings’ is treated not as an isolated episode of ambitious self-promotion, but as the moment when a much longer process of ideological development and competition crystallised into formal basileia.
Here and throughout Holton challenges the precept that ‘no single model accounts for Hellenistic kingship’. Without denying the evident diversity of local situations, he insists that for the period 323–276 bce at least three strong unifying factors can be identified: (1) the shared evolutionary background of the Successor regimes in the fragmentation of Alexander’s empire; (2) the comparable Graeco-Macedonian cultural and political formation of the principal actors; and (3) the development of closely similar institutional arrangements and ideological repertoires. He expands on each aspect and their overlap, noting limitations and nuances. Thus, an ‘international’ discourse of kingship in the first Hellenistic generation reflects how the Diadochoi operated as peer competitors within a multipolar system, according to International Relations (IR) theory.
The core chapters in the volume are organised thematically around the key ideological ‘strategies’ that Holton presents. Chapter 2 analyses the performance of status through the case of Crateros’ monument at Delphi, a lavish lion-hunt exedra whose inscription mobilises archaising heroic paradigms and Argead associations to stake a claim to royal suitability in the years immediately after 323. Chapter 3 examines the politics of imitatio through three extended case studies: Ptolemaios, Lysimachos and Pyrrhos. Holton discusses how Heracles and Achilles functioned as widely available royal templates, not simply as Alexandrine totems. Chapter 4 examines the diadem as a ‘zelotypic’ symbol: a coveted yet exclusive emblem whose later centrality as the badge of kingship was largely the product of post-Alexandrian invention and retrospective association. The final chapter traces the discourse of doriktētos chōra (‘spear-won land’), from Alexander’s landing in Asia to Seleucid and Ptolemaic appeals in the wake of Ipsos and beyond. Here, Holton argues that it functioned primarily as an ideological language of inherited conquest rather than as a general legal doctrine that ‘all royal land is spear-won’.
Holton’s comparative reach and his deft integration of literary, epigraphic and especially numismatic evidence make this volume an excellent, if brief, contribution to the study of the Hellenistic period. It should be approached as a short treatise on the beginning of Hellenistic kingship. Despite the structured discussion, some criticisms remain – most notably regarding the bibliography (an issue of the companion volume, too). One cannot expect the list of references to be exhaustive (given the volume’s size), yet there are some unexpected omissions (from most recent to oldest, e.g. M. Munn [ed.], Hellenistic Monarchies in the Mediterranean World: Building a New World Order? [2024]; G. Weber, Studien zur hellenistischen Monarchie [2024], C.I. Chrysafis, A. Hartmann, C. Schliephake, G. Weber [edd.], Basileus eirenophylax: Friedenskultur(en) und monarchische Repräsentation in der Antike [2023]; A. Erskine, L. Llewellyn-Jones, S. Wallace [edd.], The Hellenistic Court: Monarchic Power and Elite Society from Alexander to Cleopatra [2017]; G. Weber, K. Ehling [edd.], Hellenistische Königreiche [2014]; G. Weber, ‘Herrscher, Hof und Dichter. Aspekte der Legitimierung und Repräsentation hellenistischer Könige am Beispiel der ersten drei Antigoniden’, Historia 44 [1995], 283–316). Readers may also notice Holton’s polemical edge against the ‘no single model’ orthodoxy, which may seem overdrawn, particularly given his sensitivity to non-Greek traditions and regional specificities. However, the volume serves as a corrective to decades of heavily regionalised or dynastic studies, convincingly balancing approaches for the generation of the Diadochoi.
The volume is best read together with its companion volume, Royal Traditions and the Consolidation of Power by Alexander’s Successors, which shifts the focus from the initial creation of kingship to its stabilisation and formalisation. Drawing upon Max Weber’s famous tripartite classification of legitimacy (charismatic, traditional, rational-legal) and its impact on the study of Hellenistic kingship, Holton sets out the theoretical discussion of power legitimation. Engaging D. Beetham’s critique of Weberian approaches, he argues that historians of Hellenistic kingship must examine how regimes established ruling rights and sought to make them permanent across generations – a process constituting a ‘whole political system – [that of] Hellenistic basileia’. He adopts ‘consolidation’ as a functional term for two related processes: (1) the transformation of start-up regimes into embedded ruling entities; and (2) the consolidation of rule such that succession did not trigger a return to pre-takeover conditions. To that end, the ruling elite needs to invest in non-violent tools of control and establish a ‘discursive power’ to frame social discourse in ways that serve its interests.
In the same first chapter Holton moves from this conceptual framework to its illustration through three carefully chosen case studies: Perdiccas, Peucestas and Ptolemaios. For Holton Perdiccas emerges as a paradigmatic failure of consolidation, relying heavily on coercion and violence while failing to invest in the discursive and relational strategies – consensus-building, ritualised legitimacy, symbolic patronage – that might have transformed his regency into a sustainable regime. Peucestas, by contrast, offers an instructive intermediate case: he attempted to base his power on local support in Persis through conspicuous philhellenism and a dramatic sacrificial rite, but could not translate provincial popularity into secure kingdom-wide consolidation. Ptolemaios I is presented as the most successful of the three characters, precisely because he combined the willingness to use force where and when necessary along with a long-term investment in ideology (e.g. control of Alexander’s body; manipulation of Egyptian and Greek religious forms; city foundations; dynastic self-presentation) and carefully managed relationships with soldiers, cities and elites. The subsequent chapters examine three clusters of royal traditions that, Holton argues, were central to consolidation: (1) divine kingship; (2) forms of institutional symmetry; and (3) the treatment of royal death and ideology.
Chapter 2, ‘Gods and Mortals’, offers perhaps the most synthetic treatment currently available of royal–divine discourse in the early Hellenistic period, starting from Alexander’s sacrificial practices and the divine parentage of his Diadochoi. After discussing examples of use and their associations with divinities, Holton identifies four ‘anchor’ deities: Zeus, Athena, Herakles and Nike (p. 52). He traces how the successors replicated, adapted and elaborated these models in their coinages, cults and public rituals. The discussion draws on anthropological theorising (e.g. by M. Strathern) to distinguish heroic and ‘cosmic’ divinisation and insists that effective consolidation required kings to occupy a liminal space between human and divine. They should be close enough to the gods to serve as ritual pivots and guarantors of cosmic order, yet still intelligible within existing cultic frameworks – and the Ithyphallic Hymn for Demetrios Poliorketes serves as an excellent example of such a topos.
‘Institutional Symmetry’ is the title of Chapter 3, which moves the discussion to the political–institutional level. Holton approaches joint kingship (royal diarchy) as a father–son form of rule, a distinctive innovation of the successor generation. Holton sets the well-known pairings (Antigonos–Demetrios, Seleukos–Antiochos, Ptolemaios–Philadelphos) against a set of comparanda: the Argead tradition of regencies, the Spartan dual monarchy, the Achaemenid crown princes and early Hellenistic experiments that failed (Cassandros’ and Lysimachos’ sons). The main argument is that this type of diarchy was devised as a consciously ideological and practical mechanism for managing succession, especially for lines of the Diadochoi that lacked an eminent royal bloodline but sought to institutionalise the protection of their power and throne. The numismatic evidence, once again, is particularly revealing to support this argument. For example, in the case of the Seleucids, the double legends (‘of Kings Seleukos and Antiochos’) on coins from Ai Khanoum and Bactria, the unprecedented pairing of bull and anchor symbols on Seleucid bronze coins, and the careful sequencing of Seleukos’ posthumous portrait and Antiochos’ diademed image on silver issues, are all read as strategies to proclaim the indivisibility of basileia and the hierarchy within the royal household at the same time. The chapter concludes by examining the impact of these family structures on the Hellenistic landscape, a manifestation of royal identity and a pragmatic necessity. The discussion then turns to the negotiation of power and attempts at consolidation among the second generation of Hellenistic kings.
Chapter 4, ‘Royal Death and Ideological Legacy’, examines funerals, posthumous cults and memory politics from Antigonos and Demetrios to Ptolemaios I and Seleukos. Holton pays close attention to the itinerant funeral of Demetrios Poliorketes orchestrated by Antigonos Gonatas, the elaboration of the Ptolemaieia festival as an increasingly dynastic and quasi-funerary celebration under Philadelphos, and the use of Seleukos’ corpse and cult by Antiochos I to anchor the new dynasty’s claims. He argues that such ceremonies, narratives and images were not mere afterthoughts, but integral to the consolidation of royal power, as they provided the most visible occasions for inscribing dynastic continuity and ritually enacting the transfer of charisma from founder to heir. Most importantly, the chapter concludes with a compelling case study: the life of Ptolemaios Keraunos (p. 135), who is often left unexamined in detail in accounts of the Diadochoi (based on unfavourable ancient sources) or, more broadly, in Hellenistic-period narratives. Holton’s analysis is certainly refreshing, highlighting a much deeper, if not altogether different, character. Ptolemaios Keraunos emerges as a great example of a successor who worked capably within the established system of ideology, diplomacy, negotiation and consolidation of power (p. 143).
‘Conclusions’ recap the main arguments and discussions with clarity. Here Holton discusses the limits of this work, which is not a ‘complete account [of the development of royal traditions]’ (p. 151). Even so, the book not only offers an aggregate of the main discussions of the topic of royal traditions and the negotiation/consolidation of power by the Diadochoi, but also manages to offer a very fresh perspective, to change some of the established views and, at the very least, to provide many acute observations on the subject. I really enjoyed this second volume by Holton for its discussion and style – from the gradual discussion of general concepts to the shift to specific, more detailed examples –, not least because I found myself appreciating the author’s approach that opened up new pathways in my understanding of the Hellenistic world. The volume also provides an excellent overview of coin issues, with several high-quality images of the successors’ coinage framing the discussion, making it a valuable resource for a wide range of audiences, from students to scholars. This material is accompanied, in both volumes, by several figures (in the vast majority of cases, coinage) and two maps (one is repeated), which enrich the results and the discussion despite the works’ brevity.
If Holton’s twin volumes reconstruct the top-down ideological architecture of Hellenistic kingship, Mendels’s Hellenistic Ethical Lexicon approaches a closely related set of questions from the angle of norms, expectations and ‘international’ ethics. This book is presented as a sequel to his Hellenistic Interstate Political Ethics and the Emergence of the Jewish State (2021) and aims to assemble a list of ethical norms, in four chapters, respectively drawing upon different ancient sources to support different case studies: Chapter 1 uses Arrian’s Anabasis and ‘On Kingship’, part of The Letter of Aristeas to Philokrates (third century bce); Chapter 2 is based on Polybios’ Histories; Chapter 3 follows Livy’s Ab urbe condita; while Chapter 4’s sources are the books of 1–2 Maccabees. The outcome is a set of 307 abstracted ‘Rules of Conduct’ (p. 3) governing how rulers and states should behave in conquest, under protectorate, in interstate relations and subjecthood. Each rule is grounded in a specific narrative episode or speech, and Mendels expressly treats both positive exempla (where behaviour aligns with the expected norm) and negative cases (where the sources condemn an action) as equally revealing of the underlying code.
The first chapter focuses on two documents dealing with the ‘ideal ethical behaviour of kings’ (p. 6): (1) a work of King Ptolemaios I of Egypt as preserved in the narrative of the Anabasis by Arrian; and (2) the treatise ‘On Kingship’, found in the Letter of Aristeas to Philokrates. The rules that emerge are strikingly consonant with Holton’s depiction of early Hellenistic royal ideals: kings should be pious, generous, self-controlled and just; they should keep faith with allies and subjects, respect existing civic laws and regimes (‘democratic’ ones included), avoid unnecessary cruelty and balance necessity with compassion in dealing with enemies. Mendels’s readings of episodes such as Alexander’s treatment of the Milesian mercenaries, his leniency towards cities that surrendered voluntarily, his handling of conspiracies and his management of soldiers’ grievances converge on a model of the ‘good king’ that resonates strongly with the self-image propagated by the Diadochoi. In this discussion, one can reconsider the case of Ptolemaios Keraunos and debate the ‘ethics’ of ideal leadership, taking into account the pragmatic realities and needs of a successful Hellenistic basileus.
The subsequent three chapters broaden the focus to ‘interstate ethics’ in an age of Roman expansion and solidification in the East, dealing first with the period of the ‘protectorate’ and then the Roman, international regime of the Principate. Polybios and Livy present a particularly interesting case, since, despite the obvious connection of the latter to the former (as a key source), their nuances differ. Mendels discusses rules of conduct from armistice conditions and the protection of allies during truces, through the ethics of embassies and accusations in the Roman senate, to the difficult problem of who counts as a ‘traitor’ when a state changes sides or invites foreign intervention. For Mendels the adduced ethical codes retrieved from Polybios are evidence of what the ‘pragmatike historia’ concept truly is. Although an audience familiar with the historian and the concept may have a good idea of what ‘pragmatike historia’ is (or what it is not), this is not clearly defined by Mendels. After the illuminating account of 145 ethical rules from Books 16–30 of the Polybian account, I am more convinced that Polybios’ concept of history is to write a manual for the elite and an account of the Achaian Koinon partaking in the glorious achievements of the Roman Republic – in this way, it is ‘pragmatike’ only in terms of Polybian ideals and beliefs stemming from status and pedigree, rather than a truly universal account. It serves a universal elite, in subjective terms; thus, any other account or narrative that does not fit the Polybian paradigm is deemed unethical (if it concerns an acting agent) or opinion (if it concerns another narrative or account).
Mendels discusses Polybios’ reflections on kairos (‘the right moment for action’), on the morally charged symbolism of garrisons in ‘fetters of Greece’ such as Chalcis, Corinth and Demetrias, and on the tension between patriotism and opportunism in the choices of Greek politicians. Livy’s narratives and speeches then allow him to reconstruct Roman expectations of themselves and others: the responsibilities of a hegemon towards allies, the limits of acceptable severity and the role of promises, oaths and fides in binding interstate relationships. Finally, the books of 1–2 Maccabees provide an internal account: the perspective of a subject community, highlighting how imperial behaviour was judged against ideals of justice, liberty and equality, and how violations could trigger resistance (and rebellion) clothed in their own ethical language.
Methodologically, Mendels pushes the field in two important directions. First, he insists that historians must go beyond the vague recognition that Polybian and Livian historiography is ‘pragmatic’ or didactic to specify, case by case, what ‘lesson’ is being taught and how repeated situations generate precedents. Second, he proposes that the aggregate of such lessons constitutes what modern IR theory would call an ‘international regime’: a set of shared principles and norms that structure actors’ expectations and can be invoked by both strong and weak parties, even if they are often violated (p. 3). In doing so, one of the book’s successes is that it invites a more systematic dialogue among ancient political thought, narrative historiography and contemporary regime theory, with the caveat that the absence of a system of interstate relationships (which worked, but, naturally, not always) is not a given as Mendels proclaims in the introduction – quite the opposite, I would argue.
The combined historiographical significance of the three volumes emerges most clearly when one looks at their convergences and productive tensions. All three reject the view that Hellenistic monarchy and empire were static, merely institutional phenomena. Instead, they depict royal power as a field of competing claims, images, norms and discourses, in which the negotiation of power and the construction of frames are paramount. Holton’s presentation of the Diadochoi is nuanced: they are neither simply military strongmen nor constitutional innovators; they are also entrepreneurs of ideology, often experimenting (with consequences) with heroic paradigms, divine associations, attempts to construct dynastic genealogies and new ritual forms. All these serve to answer one seemingly simple question: why should they rule rather than anyone else? Mendels’s presentation of kings and imperial elites likewise places them under constant ethical scrutiny, both from historians and contemporaries. The Lexicon, thus, presents the ways in which ideas of justice, clemency, loyalty and good faith could legitimise or delegitimise action(s).
Competition and reciprocity run as red threads through all three volumes. Holton emphasises how the first Hellenistic dynasties perceived and responded to each other’s claims, for example, Antigonos’ self-coronation and the ensuing domino-effect, Ptolemaios’ counterclaims to doriktētos chōra in Egypt and Syria or the numismatic dialogues between Seleucid and Ptolemaic imagery. Mendels reveals similar dynamics at the normative level: benefactions invited gratitude and reciprocal support; breaches of promised behaviour elicited not only material retaliation or upheaval but also moralising narratives that could haunt a regime’s reputation for generations. Together, these perspectives shed light, often from complementing but also from opposite perspectives, on how ideological competition ‘from above’ and ethical contestation ‘from below’ formed a tightly interwoven fabric. At the very least, together, the volumes invite an open dialogue and a reassessment of critical aspects of Hellenistic history and modern historiography.
A note on these contrasting views is warranted. On reading these volumes together, one notices differences of emphasis that point to fruitful areas for further work. Holton’s insistence on the Graeco-Macedonian character of the ‘international face’ of kingship perhaps balances earlier scholarship that has leaned heavily towards local, non-Greek perspectives. Yet, it risks underplaying the extent to which subject populations could reinterpret or resist royal symbols within their own normative vocabularies – frames and framing by definition work on different frameworks, so the level of understanding, transformation of meaning depending on time or location, and interpretation of ambiguities should not be ignored (cf. E. Günther, S. Günther [edd.], Frames and Framing in Antiquity I. Selected Papers from the First Frames and Framing in Antiquity Conference, 16–18 October 2020 [2022]). Mendels, especially in his chapters on Polybios and the books of 1–2 Maccabees, foregrounds precisely these issues of contested meaning: what ‘freedom’ or ‘justice’ means to a Roman commander is not necessarily what it means to an Aitolian politician or a Judean rebel. Integrating such insights more explicitly into models of early Hellenistic kingship would sharpen our understanding of how royal programmes were received and negotiated (i.e. accepted, changed or subverted). Equally, Mendels’s approach stops short of applying its framework in detail to the successor states that are at the heart of Holton’s studies. One obvious line of development would be to re-read, say, the Third Diadochoi War (314–311 bce), the politics of Ipsos or the early Syrian Wars through the double lens of Holton’s royal traditions and Mendels’s ethical rules, asking how the Diadochoi justified their behaviour in normative terms and how far they sought to present themselves as ‘good kings’ in the sense reconstructed from Arrian or Aristeas. Of course, these are afterthoughts of thinking about the works in dialogue – their impact on the discussions of the ‘long Hellenistic period’ is evident.
Taken as a set, these three volumes decisively move the study of Hellenistic kingship and empire beyond older dichotomies of ‘fusion versus separation’ and beyond purely institutional or prosopographical frames. Holton’s twin monographs provide a fresh, comprehensive, ideologically attuned treatment of the first generation of Hellenistic kingship. They demonstrate with great clarity how royal traditions – divine associations, diarchies, funerary rituals, city foundations – were fashioned and refashioned in an intensely competitive environment. Mendels’s Lexicon compels historians of the period to take seriously the ethical expectations and normative discourses that constrained, or at least inflected, the behaviour of kings, generals and statesmen. As such, it opens a promising dialogue with modern theories of international regimes and political legitimacy. For future work on Hellenistic monarchy, the implication is clear: ideology and ethics – both royal self-representation and interstate norms – must be seen as central, not peripheral, to the history of power in the post-Alexandrian world.
