It feels like an Exodus

At the fringes of the Sacred Town of Missolonghi in western Greece, there is a memorial complex known as the Garden of Heroes. On the surface, it looks like a charming, yet modest park with carefully trimmed winding paths, demarcated from the rest of the community by a stone wall. Numerous monuments dot the area, many of which are artistically creative, giving to the garden a flair of an open-air museum. And, indeed such it is, for it commemorates a turning point in the 19th-century Greek Independence War, and a level of collaboration among people from many nations that, to this day, remains remarkable and inspiring.

During the 18th and early 19th century, Missolonghi was a prosperous town, renowned for its salt, premium-quality roe, notable commercial fleet, and the wealth of its sea lagoon. Unlike other areas in Greece, shrouded in drapes of illiteracy, this minute coastal settlement prided itself for the education and merit of its citizens. Strategically positioned on the crossroads that connected Western Europe with the Ottoman Empire and the northern provinces with the south, Missolonghi became a vital stronghold for the Greek Independence War and a stinging thorn for the Turkish administration. Consequently, the town was thrice besieged by the Ottomans, the last assault turning into the most famous and brutal of all.

This third siege lasted for a full year, from April 1825 to April 1826. By that time, the Greek revolution that had begun in 1821 had already managed to liberate certain regions, win a few battles, organise a government, and, above all, engage in extensive lobbying with the Great Powers to secure support for the Greek cause. Although attempts to break free from the governance of the Sublime Porte were not uncommon among the nations that were under Ottoman subjugation, the beginning of the 19th century was an opportune time since nationalistic tendencies throughout the world had already gained momentum thanks to the American Independence in 1776 and the French Revolution of 1789.

In anticipation of the third siege, the political and military leadership of Missolonghi reinforced the fortifications of the town, employing ingenious devices and techniques. The presence of Lord Byron added further gravitas, since, with his reputation, passion, property, and international network, he supported the Greek cause to his last day, ultimately dying of disease in Missolonghi in 1824. His unceasing communication with people in leadership positions across the world further enhanced the awareness for the Greek Independence War, reinforcing a philhellenic movement that was already surging in Europe. As such, when the Ottomans besieged Missolonghi for the third time, individuals from many countries rushed to the rescue.

Despite the excellent resistance, support, and numerous acts of bravery, the city finally succumbed to the Ottoman attacks. The citizens, deprived for weeks of food and water, were reduced by famine and sickness to a desolate shadow of themselves, and, thus, decided to attempt a sortie (the Exodus of the Guards), led by those few warriors who could still carry a weapon. Indeed, a small percentage of the population managed to escape, while the rest died, either killed by the invading army or blowing themselves up to avoid falling alive into the hands of the enemy. After twelve harrowing months and a heavy toll, the Ottomans finally vanquished the city, keeping Missolonghi under Turkish command only for three years. However, the heroic recounts of the siege and fall of the town touched the hearts of the philhellenes, inspired numerous artists, and added such momentum to the Greek cause that, ultimately the disaster turned in favour of Greece. The citizens were romanticised in literature, becoming known as the “Free Besieged”, and their struggle evolved into a symbol strong enough to unite Greeks and foreigners alike.

A few years later, the first governor of the newly founded state of Greece erected a monument in the old battlefield to commemorate this historic event and pay tribute to the thousands of lives that perished there, sanctifying the earth with their blood while safeguarding the dream of a nation. Soon, additional monuments sprouted in what was later to become the Garden of Heroes, all of them highlighting and acknowledging the contribution of people from other countries who shared the anguish, famine, and pain, on the perilous path to freedom.

The first monument erected in the Garden of Heroes: a tomb resembling those of the Mycenaean era. A small ossuary on its side allows for the deposit of further bones, continuously found in the proximity.

Monument to commemorate and honour the support of the American people.

Lord Byron constantly observing from above the country that inspired him the most.

Monument to commemorate and honour the contribution of the French people during the siege.

Monument to commemorate and honour the support of the Swedish people during the siege.

 
Today, almost two hundred years later, a different “siege” – of global proportions, this time – comes to an end as the world completes an impressive lockdown enterprise, masterminded to face a virus attack which put our social structures to the test, thriving on our weaknesses and revealing our fragilities. Aghast and befuddled, we combined our collective scientific and technological knowledge, only to realise that, with our usual arrogance, we had overestimated our strengths, since neither independently nor united did we prove to be as advanced, prepared, and invincible as we thought we were. Overnight, our earlier priorities became obsolete, and we launched a massive experiment that lasted for almost two months, during which each of us sacrificed concepts we held dear – including careers, dreams, and comfort zones – on the path to a redefined sense of freedom. Confined in our homes, we lay low, stewing, despite the chatter, in silence, facing not only the enemy outside the safety of our walls but a nameless foe as well: one stemming from within, forcing us to admit that our identity, carefully polished and protected for years, has become nothing more than an empty shell.

Time seemed to crawl away as we remained in a state of concurrent action and inaction, experiencing a turbulent hiatus in the unfolding of events we thought we had planned only so carefully. There were fear and confusion, but such feelings were cushioned by the familiarity of our homes and the unity that sprouted in a world usually afflicted by conflict, abuse, and fragmentation. Our typical binary thinking dissolved into mist, and, for once, an integrated human identity seemed feasible.

Throughout our history, we have always found value in segregations that help us outline our traits and identities. It has been more comfortable or convenient to improvise segments – literate or figurative – within which we can remain efficient, united, and secure, with comfort zones that appear, for a while, as the only available reality to live. Outside such walls, conveniently devised enemies lurk in the darkness – for fear thrives in the unknown – their role often limited to maintaining the need for barriers rather than actually launching an attack. And yet, despite these fissures and wounds that separate us, our fragile, controversial, and formidable species has always found purpose in building bridges to connect the fragments we created ourselves, in a perpetual reinvention of who we are and who we want to become.

And now, after several weeks of stupor and anguish, the time has come for us to venture to the next level of this adventure, leaving behind the safety of our homes, trying to re-invent old practices and construct afresh patterns destined to give us a coveted illusion of control. It feels like an exodus. Perhaps, it is.

As we pause on the threshold, contemplating the world that stretches out there, unchartered, unfamiliar, and inevitably polarised, we may choose to meditate on the idea of freedom which we have been striving to grasp from the dawn of time. In this turn of events, we willingly gave up some of our independence to safeguard our right to safety, good health, and happiness. The libations accompanying our global prayers were neither wonted nor self-evident, and yet, we offered them without a second thought, observing, for once, our well-being from an angle much more comprehensive than what we usually use. In a sense, we all became heroes, transcending our individuality to reinforce our collective existence. I am not sure we managed to elevate ourselves to the spiritual level of a “free besieged”, but, as freedom is an esoteric journey, many of us had the opportunity to explore the notion of serenity, during those lengthy discussions with ourselves. Despite our tendency to quickly fall back into the comfort of old practices, something has changed, and neither our gutsy resistance nor our courageous sortie will be easily forgotten. Perhaps, in the future, another Garden of Heroes will be established to commemorate these pages of our history: our efforts, our hopes, and a collaboration among individuals and nations that will always remain remarkable and inspiring.

Monument erected to honour all the philhellines that helped during the siege and supported the Greek cause. It has been constructed from fragments of the canons and balls found scattered in the proximity, and is decorated at the top with a tripod, resembling the ancient choregic monuments. The structure stands as a reminder that, even with fragments of a destructive nature, we can always find the path to freedom when we stand united.

Photo credits: © Konstantina Sakellariou.

(Note: Only a few of the monuments hosted in the Garden of Heroes are included above. The collection of photos is only indicative and by no means does it represent the full range of international support commemorated in this open-air museum).

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