Missy Bear is now, geographically or geologically, in Asia Minor.
Samos is an island, but was only cut off from the mainland coast by an earthquake long ago. There is some limestone around, but a lot of the rock has been baked into a metamorphic schist. From the marina, you feel that you can almost reach out and touch Turkey, as the Mycale strait is only 1km wide at its narrowest point.
There is a Greek military station on the south-eastern corner of Samos, where photography is prohibited (which is a shame as it is a wildlife site for migratory birds). And we can see a huge flagpole carrying the massive red Turkish flag on the opposite shore. We see warships pass by now and then. And we have just read of two Greek coastguard vessels having recently shot at a ‘suspicious’ Turkish cargo ship just up the coast from here.
You may say it was ever thus: even back in ancient times when the different Greek polis, and then the Persians, were fighting for control of these islands. Samos is a naturally rich island: high mountains providing winter rains that sustain flowing rivers through the summer; hills verdant with cedars and pines for timber; and flat plains in the south-east providing opportunities for cultivation. And it is strategically well-located. The pine honey is delicious. And the Samian wine is famous; we particularly like the dry muscats so far.
Maybe it was this agreeable environment, always coveted by others, that fostered a spirit of thought, innovation and ‘firsts’ by the islanders:
For example, Kolaios of Samos (7th century BC) was a famous explorer and silver merchant. He got blown off course in a storm en-route to Egypt and sailed across the Mediterranean, through the Strait of Gibraltar and into the Atlantic (to Tartessus, near modern day Cadiz). No traders had visited there previously, and Kolaios made a healthy profit on his cargo of metal when he got home. It is said that he invented the story of the storm to hide his new trade route from his competitors? I’m sure he would have read the Odyssey;
The shipbuilders of Samos made decisive nautical innovations. Perhaps Kolaios sailed a ‘Samaina’ – a ship famous throughout the Mediterranean for its combination of a large hold and swift speed. Samos, along with Corinth, was the first Greek naval power to incorporate triremes into its fleet;
Then we have the philosopher and mathematician Pythagorus of Samos (6th century BC) of whom every schoolchild has heard. Missy Bear is in a marina a short walk from the small village port of Pythagorio, recently renamed after their hero;
Or consider Aristarchus of Samos (4th century BC), who suggested the first heliocentric model of the solar system, i.e., that the sun is at the centre and the earth revolves around it and, whilst rotating about its axis once a day. Perhaps during the Renaissance Galileo was made aware of Aristarchus’s theory?
But it was a tyrant called Polycrates (6th Century BC), who has left the greatest physical legacy on the island. During his reign he managed to keep the island free of the Persians, largely by having a huge fleet of 150 ships as well as 1,000 mercenary archers. He used his fleet to exact tolls from passing ships and used his wealth to build a Temple of Hera, a huge mole to protect the harbour, and an underground aqueduct, over 1km long, to supply his capital with fresh water from Mount Kastro. The architect of this engineering marvel was Eupalinos and it was only the second tunnel known to have been dug from both ends to meet in the middle. Basically, he surveyed a straight line over the top of the mountain – the ‘mountain line’ - and then erected a pole at the north and south ends. The miners aligned their digging with the mountain line and also by taking a back bearing to the poles. If you are interested in how they ensured the two ends met (both vertically and horizontally), the internet is your friend.
Fast forward nearly two and a half millennia, and the plucky Samiots were very active in the revolutionary fight against the Ottoman empire starting in 1821. They thought that their contribution would make Samos part of the new independent Greek state. However, the western powers decided that it was not to be: the London Protocol (1829), written after the decisive naval Battle of Navarino, dictated that some Aegean islands be handed back to the Turks. Samos was one. This was, as ever, to maintain the ‘balance of power’: an overly weakened Turkey would be less of a barrier to Russian incursions southwards. This tension continued into the next century, and Samos only became part of Greece in 1913 after the First Balkan War against the falling Ottoman Empire.
There are certain authors who are better known by their initials rather than their Christian name. I can think of JK Rowling, JRR Tolkien and JR Hartley (the famous author of a book on fly fishing in the old Yellow Pages TV advert). There is also AJP Taylor, who wrote one of the definitive histories of WWI. One of his theses, that I always remember, is that no nation really wanted to go to war, and that a trigger (the shooting of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in this case, but it could have been anything) simply set off a quick domino effect of pre-planned actions that no-one could control:
"Nowhere was there conscious determination to provoke a war. Statesmen miscalculated. They used the instruments of bluff and threat which had proved effective on previous occasions."
He does acknowledge the opposing views of others; that Germany was preparing for and wanted war, e.g., by widening the Keil canal for its new dreadnoughts. Norman Stone also believes that Germany was waiting for any excuse to start a fight, because she wanted to expand empire across the Balkans and into Turkey (‘Our Egypt’). But the Germans had to strike early before Russia became too strong militarily.
Taylor admits that the German Emperor had told the Austrians to take a strong line with Serbia after the assassination of the archduke. Stone says that Russia would back Serbia because they were fellow Slavs and Orthodox Christians. So, when the Germans told their Austro-Hungarian ally to provoke a war with Serbia, Russia had to respond, and the Great War started on its eastern front.
Germany had to fight on two fronts, and it needed help in the east. But Russia’s perennial foe, Turkey, initially remained neutral. Never mind - the Germans hatched a cunning plan!
They had been helping the Turkish navy modernise for many years (specifically through a general called Otto Liman von Sanders). Norman Stone relates the plot:
“Two German battleships managed to escape from a British hunt in the Mediterranean, and they arrived in the then neutral waters of the [Bosporus] Straits... The true masters of the [Turkish] government - other ministers were not informed - had made their own arrangements for a German alliance. The document was kept secret.
“The two German ships, SMS Goeben and Breslau, were turned over to the Ottoman navy, the crews wearing fezzes, and the commanding admiral, Wilhelm Souchon, entering Turkish service… The German ships [went] into the Black Sea, where they were more powerful than anything afloat, and these bombarded the Russian port of Odessa, causing much damage.
“The Russians, perplexed, diplomatically enquired what had happened; an unsatisfactory response followed, and by early November Turkey was at war with Britain, France and Russia - a coalition soon joined by Italy. By 1916, these four had worked out arrangements for the very partition of the [Ottoman] empire that this [event] had been supposed to forestall.”
So, the now familiar ‘false-flag’ operations (in the news from Ukraine) are certainly not a new invention, and can be very effective in achieving one’s aims.
We all certainly hope that the tension and hubris between Turkey and Greece subsides quickly and that no ‘accidental’ incident triggers a much bigger and horrible episode. Tony – of Tony’s Car Hire on Leros – thinks that the Americans will have a stern word in their NATO allies’ ears, and that things will calm down.
Missy Bear is currently sailing away from Pythagorion and heading south-west back into the Dodecanese. In about a fortnight we will be crossing a short stretch of sea between some Greek island and a proximal Turkish port-of-entry. We will swap our Greek courtesy flag for a Turkish one. Our fingers are crossed that relations between the two countries mean that we will be allowed to cross, because there was a time last year, I think, where amateur sailors were forbidden from doing so.
And I don't that think flying a false Turkish ensign on Missy Bear would be wise.