Skepticism and Doubt in Seers' Telling
Skepticism toward seers in ancient Greece was both inevitable and, paradoxically, crucial to maintaining the system’s credibility
Ancient Greek society placed extraordinary value on divination. Seers, oracles, and various mantic practices shaped everything from state policy to personal decision-making, functioning as gateways to divine knowledge. Still, many Greeks—from mythical heroes in Homer’s epics to historical figures in the classical period—voiced doubts about the reliability of human intermediaries who claimed to interpret the gods’ will. Some ridiculed certain seers outright, while others cast skepticism on the entire enterprise of reading bird-signs or portents. Yet, despite these critiques, belief in divination persisted across the centuries.
How could a society that so thoroughly wove prophecy into its cultural, military, and religious life still harbor deep misgivings about diviners? Below, we explore this paradox. We’ll examine literary moments of doubt, accusations of greed or incompetence, historical tensions between generals and seers, and how skepticism coexisted alongside a framework of religious faith that few Greeks fully abandoned.
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The Paradox of Believing Yet Doubting
A recurring critique of divination, voiced as early as Homer, is that seers can sometimes predict what lies ahead for others but fail to foresee their own fate. Xenophon’s Socrates in the Symposium (4.5) captures this skepticism by noting that seers are believed “to foretell what is about to happen to others, but not to themselves.” One might extend this remark to ask: if seers have direct lines to the divine, why do they sometimes walk straight into disaster?
Yet this critique is only part of a broader ambivalence toward seers in ancient Greece. Even people who firmly believed in the gods and in divination’s validity might question whether a particular diviner was honest or whether his interpretations were reliable. As we’ll see, the Greeks developed a complex stance: they could exalt the legendary, near-mythical seer while ridiculing or distrusting the very human, everyday seer who sold his services for a fee.
Moreover, Greek religion famously revolved around reciprocity between gods and mortals. Humans offered sacrifices, and in return, the gods—if they wished—sent signs through oracles or sacrificial omens. Despite this structure, there was an undercurrent of tension around seers’ motives, competence, and potential for deceit.
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Doubting Seers in Homeric Poetry
Skepticism toward seers and their signs appears already in Homer, the foundational literary corpus of ancient Greece. While Homeric heroes routinely rely on augury and prophecy, they also occasionally speak out against it.
Hector and Poulydamas
One vivid scene comes in Iliad Book 12 (lines 200–250), where the Trojan ally Poulydamas observes a dramatic omen: an eagle on the left carrying a snake in its talons, only to drop the snake when it is bitten. Poulydamas interprets this as a bad sign for attacking the Achaean ships and advises turning back. Hector rejects the warning, calling bird-signs unreliable and accusing Poulydamas of cowardice.
This clash captures a common skepticism. Hector does not deny the gods’ power or that they send signs; rather, he doubts this particular sign’s relevance because it conflicts with his personal resolve, which he believes is bolstered by Zeus himself. Hector is effectively saying, “I know the gods speak, but I trust my own sense of divine favor over this ominous bird.”
Agamemnon and Calchas
Earlier in Iliad Book 1, Agamemnon bristles at Calchas for prophesying only “evil” toward him. Yet he never questions the reality of divination itself. He simply accuses Calchas of a penchant for bad news. The friction is personal, not a condemnation of all prophecy. Agamemnon still follows the seer’s advice, underscoring that, however angry he is, he does not dismiss mantic authority as a whole.
It’s important to distinguish two kinds of skepticism:
- Questioning a particular seer’s integrity or ability (e.g., he’s biased, greedy, or incompetent).
- Questioning the entire system of divination (e.g., bird signs or other rituals might be meaningless).
In Homer, many denunciations follow the first pattern. Hector and Agamemnon dislike certain interpreters but not the gods’ messages themselves. Yet Homeric poetry also offers glimpses—like Hector’s dismissal of all “bird-signs”—of deeper doubts about mantic techniques.
Seers in Classical Tragedy
By the fifth century B.C., Greek tragedy developed more explicit challenges to seers and oracles, sometimes in searing terms. This owes partly to the dramatic genre’s freedom to stage intense human conflicts, including confrontations between mortal arrogance and divine prophecy.
Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus
Arguably the most famous seer in tragedy is Teiresias. Early in the play, Oedipus lashes out at him, calling him a “deceitful beggar-priest” who is “blind” in his art, even if he can physically see. Oedipus’s grievance is that Teiresias had not resolved the Sphinx’s riddle, while he, Oedipus, had won the day through intellect. The king’s indignation crescendos into charges of greed and conspiracy.
Yet as the plot unfolds, Teiresias’s prophecy about Oedipus’s guilt is vindicated. Sophocles thus stages a powerful tension: the main character’s skepticism about seers is thematically refuted by the tragic outcome. The chorus, deeply anxious about the possibility that “no longer shall I go in reverence to the navel of the Earth,” fears that if seers are wrong, the entire cosmic order (and the authority of Apollo) collapses. That the prophecy stands shows how tragedy often reaffirms the validity of oracles after a period of dramatic doubt.
Euripides’ Helen and the Post-Sicilian Backlash
One of the strongest attacks on seers appears in Euripides’ Helen (produced around 412 B.C., soon after Athens’ catastrophic defeat in Sicily). The character Menelaus’s servant delivers a scathing indictment of seers, claiming there’s “nothing sound in the sacrificial flame” and that Calchas and Helenus let the Greeks fight over a mere “cloud” (the phantom Helen) without revealing the truth. In his view, all seers failed or lied, “bait for making a living.”
Unlike Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus, Euripides here does not neatly restore full confidence in Greek seers by the end of the play. Instead, Helen offers a more ambivalent stance: while a new, exotic prophetess Theonoe emerges as a figure of genuine insight, mainstream seers (like Calchas) seem discredited, at least in the old man’s eyes. This moment resonates with the actual Athenian anger reported by Thucydides (8.1) against the oracle-collectors and seers who encouraged the doomed Sicilian Expedition.
Doubts About Oracles and Their Interpreters
Questioning a wandering seer is one thing, but to doubt Apollo’s oracle at Delphi—the pinnacle of Greek divination—was a far graver stance. Yet Oedipus Tyrannus also explores this possibility. Jocasta expresses disbelief in the prophecy concerning Laius’s death by his son. She claims oracles can be wrong, dismissing the notion of fate. Then, ironically, it turns out the prophecy was correct all along, as Oedipus is indeed Laius’s killer.
After the truth emerges, the chorus anxiously reaffirms faith in Delphi, aware that if the Delphic oracle is untrue, “all that pertains to the gods is perishing.” This underscores how vital Delphi’s authority was to Greek religion. Casting doubt on local seers might be socially acceptable, but challenging Delphi or other major oracles risked undermining the entire religious framework.
Still, skepticism about oracles existed outside drama. Herodotus records tales of King Croesus testing oracles (Delphi among them) to confirm their accuracy. Although to a Greek, “testing” a god’s oracle bordered on impiety—one doesn’t quiz Apollo to see if he’s telling the truth—Croesus’s story, real or legendary, reflects that some individuals sought empirical assurance.
Charges of Greed and Manipulation
One recurring accusation in Greek texts is that seers exploit the public for wealth. In Homer, the suitor Eurymachus calls Halitherses’ warning a ploy to gain gifts. Sophocles’ Creon sneers that the entire race of seers loves silver. Pentheus in Euripides’ Bacchae thinks Teiresias welcomes the cult of Dionysus because it will bring him profit from sacrifices. Agamemnon in Iphigenia at Aulis likewise calls seers “basely fond of honor.”
Why so many barbs about money? Because seers could demand high fees if they claimed exclusive access to divine guidance. If a seer announced that Apollo insisted on a certain course of action, who could question him? Greek tragedies show that generals or city assemblies might pay handsomely for favorable signs before war. And if the plan failed, suspicion of manipulation or outright fraud soared.
Xenophon in his Anabasis (6.4.13–16) records an instructive anecdote: at Calpe, the Ten Thousand suspected that Xenophon’s seer might be lying about unfavorable omens to suit Xenophon’s supposed ambition. Xenophon defused the tension by allowing everyone, including any other available seers, to examine the sacrificial victims. Though the same negative result appeared repeatedly, this openness placated doubt. Indeed, one of the most common methods for countering skepticism was to let multiple observers confirm the entrails or bird-signs.
Case Studies: Testing Seers and Oracles
Croesus’s Tortoise and Lamb Soup
Herodotus narrates the famous (and possibly embellished) story of King Croesus “testing” seven oracles, including Delphi. Croesus hid himself cooking tortoise and lamb in a bronze cauldron. Only Delphi (and possibly Amphiaraus) “passed,” reciting an oracle revealing this precise activity. Greeks often saw this anecdote as proof of Delphi’s surpassing power. Modern scholars note it might be a pro-Delphic invention. Still, the notion of a powerful king seeking concrete confirmation was plausible—Lydian Croesus came from a Near Eastern context where leaders sometimes tested oracles or diviners.
Yet for the Greeks, verifying a prophet in this way typically verged on sacrilege. Delphi was not a human craft but Apollo’s mouthpiece. If the Pythia provided a false reading, people preferred to claim she was bribed or tricked, rather than doubt Apollo. That’s how strongly they protected the oracle’s divine status.
Mbira and the Witch Doctors (Anthropological Parallel)
A startling parallel comes from modern anthropology, specifically E.E. Evans-Pritchard’s study of the Azande in the early 20th century. One Zande man, Mbira, tested local witch doctors by placing a knife in a hidden pot and asking them to divine its contents.
Several gave random, inaccurate answers; one tried bribery. Mbira fully believed in the underlying concept of witchcraft and true prophecy yet dismissed these specific men as charlatans. This scenario mirrors the Greek dynamic: a divinatory system is not abandoned just because some practitioners fail.
Skepticism in War
Military campaigns often amplified public tension around seers. On the battlefield, failure was public and catastrophic. If a seer’s omens discouraged a bold strategy—and the general missed a prime opportunity—resentment grew. Conversely, if the seer gave a green light and the battle ended in defeat, the blame fell on him.
Night Attacks and Omens
In the Rhesus, attributed either to Euripides or to a later playwright, Hector rails against his soothsayers for preventing a potentially decisive night assault against the Achaeans. When the next morning reveals that the enemy might have escaped or regrouped, Hector fulminates over what he sees as wasted chances.
Athenian Disillusionment Post-Sicily
Perhaps the most famous historical example of this tension is the failed Sicilian Expedition (415–413 B.C.). Thucydides mentions that, after losing thousands of men, Athenians turned their anger on the chresmologoi (oracle-collectors) and seers who had fueled the initial enthusiasm or deterred the army’s timely withdrawal. Some seers might have offered favorable predictions to politicians like Alcibiades who championed the invasion; others might have tried to stall the venture. In the end, as the entire campaign ended in disaster, seers were cast as scapegoats—leading to a temporary decline in the popularity of chresmologoi in Athens.
Yet, as Xenophon’s accounts and the continuing role of battlefield seers in later decades confirm, disbelief did not uproot the deeper ritual reliance on sacrificial omens. The immediate fury toward certain seers or collections of oracles eventually subsided, and the practice continued in subsequent wars.
Why the System Endured
A consistent pattern emerges: the Greeks often ridiculed individual seers or denounced them for greed and error, yet rarely did they dismantle the broader religious premise that the gods communicate through signs. Their stance might be summarized as: “We believe in oracles and omens, but we’re wary of unscrupulous or incompetent interpreters.”
Anthropologists note that in many cultures, certain oracles rank higher than others. Among the Azande, the poison oracle outranked human witch doctors. Similarly, among Greeks, Delphi and a few other pan-Hellenic oracles (like Dodona) stood above everyday “deductive/technical” seers. The highest authority came from Apollo himself, especially in an ecstatic or inspired process. Human seers, by contrast, had to interpret or guess, opening the door to mistakes or fraud.
Professional competition likely spurred some accusations. Seers sought prestige and lucrative patronage. Rivals might undercut one another, highlighting false predictions or bribery. Such internal feuding ironically contributed to skepticism. But the demand for seers—especially in religious, civic, and military spheres—remained strong enough to keep them central.
No matter how many times a seer was proven wrong or suspected of corruption, the act of consulting the gods served critical needs. When a general faced indecision, ritual divination offered a definitive path forward, resolving stalemates. In times of crisis, a community might rally behind a perceived divine endorsement. Even if a seer occasionally “guess[ed] well” rather than truly saw the future, the process itself—sacrifice, reading entrails, interpreting bird flights—had unifying and morale-boosting effects.
Conclusion
Skepticism toward seers in ancient Greece was both inevitable and, paradoxically, crucial to maintaining the system’s credibility. By acknowledging that some seers were scoundrels, Greeks could dismiss failures on an individual level while preserving the overarching religious framework.
In their literature, from Homer through Euripides, we find a full range of perspectives:
- Mild Criticism of a Seer’s Bias
Agamemnon attacking Calchas for always bearing bad news. - Total Condemnation of Seer-Craft
Hector, Achilles, and Pentheus at times deriding bird-signs or claiming seers were after financial reward. - Questioning the Oracle’s Authority
Jocasta in Oedipus Tyrannus momentarily doubts Apollo’s pronouncements. - Restoration of Faith in Oracles
Thebes ultimately learns that Teiresias was right, restoring Delphi’s prestige.
Even after Athens’ traumatic Sicilian Expedition, the popular dissatisfaction with chresmologoi and certain seers did not transform into permanent rejection of divination. Too many civic and military procedures hinged on the gods’ approval. As Xenophon’s Anabasis demonstrates, entire armies often halted for days awaiting favorable entrails—accepting genuine hardship rather than flout the “will of the gods.”
In the end, the presence of skepticism did not undercut Greek religion so much as keep it flexible. By blaming individual practitioners, believers insulated the core premise that gods do communicate. The best seer might indeed be “the one who guesses well,” but behind that guess stood deep cultural convictions about divine providence. This duality—confidence in the gods’ messages but wariness of mortal interpreters—helped Greek divination endure.
From an anthropological viewpoint, such a balance is hardly unique to Greece. Many cultures honor oracles, mediums, or prophets while accusing certain “charlatans” of corruption or error. For the Greeks, the system’s social and religious value remained far too significant to be scrapped outright. Seers were at once revered and derided, indispensable yet suspect. It was precisely through this paradoxical stance—embracing the possibility of deception while cherishing the divine link—that Greek society continued to place its future, in part, in the hands of interpreters of signs.
Ultimately, Greek skepticism reveals a remarkable dynamic: a culture that both questioned and revered the supernatural, forging a nuanced religious life that left space for both disillusionment and devout reliance on the gods’ messages.
Sophie
Sophie
