Christopher Nolan’s film The Odyssey, now drawing audiences to cinemas around the world, is far more than a spectacular cinematic epic. Behind the battles, Odysseus’s long journey, and the mythology of ancient Greece lies an old and disturbing question: What happens to human beings when war strips away the thin layers of civilization, law, and morality?
The story takes place in the aftermath of the Trojan War. The brutality it portrays recalls many periods that followed, including the Roman era, when war, slavery, executions, and gladiatorial games were often accepted parts of everyday reality. In this sense, the film is not merely a journey into the ancient world. It also holds up a mirror to human society in 2026.
Nearly 3,000 years have passed. Technology has changed beyond recognition, but human beings have changed far less.
Roman civilization gave the world law, engineering, roads, and institutions of government. Yet that same magnificent civilization also knew how to turn cruelty into entertainment. People fought to the death in arenas before cheering crowds. Enemies were publicly executed. Rebellious peoples were punished with extraordinary brutality.
When violence is legitimized by government, religion, or ideology, the line separating human beings from beasts becomes frighteningly thin.
Centuries later, modern Europe proved that education, science, and culture offer no immunity against barbarism.
The Germany of Bach, Beethoven, Goethe, and great universities gave rise to the Nazi regime. Within a few years, an advanced European country became a machinery of extermination. Six million Jews were murdered in the Holocaust, including approximately 1.5 million children. The killing was not the result of a momentary eruption of madness. It was carried out through laws, bureaucrats, trains, camps, and an entire industry of death.
This may be history’s most important warning: Barbarism does not always come from outside. Sometimes it grows from within a society that regards itself as enlightened.
After 1945, the world vowed, “Never again.” Yet since then, we have witnessed mass killing in Cambodia, genocide in Rwanda, ethnic cleansing and massacres in Bosnia, and civil wars in Syria and elsewhere. Each time, it seemed humanity had learned its lesson. Each time, we discovered how short human memory can be.
Israel learned that lesson again on the morning of October 7, 2023. Hamas terrorists and members of other terrorist organizations infiltrated Israeli communities and the Nova music festival, murdered civilians, abducted children, women, elderly people, and young adults, and committed atrocities.
It is impossible to understand what happened solely in terms of a “conflict.” The moment a person becomes capable of torturing a defenseless civilian because that person belongs to another people, religion, or nationality, religion and nationalism cease to be explanations. They become excuses for suspending morality.
But this disturbing phenomenon has not remained confined to the Middle East.
Finding the way back to humanity
Antisemitism is once again appearing on the streets of Europe. Spain has recently reported a sharp rise in antisemitic incidents. In Barcelona in July, Jewish tourists from France were reportedly chased by a crowd shouting “baby killers” at them. In another incident, two Jewish women wearing Stars of David were removed from a business.
An entire country or people must not be judged by the actions of extremists. But neither should we ignore the warning signs. When a Jew in Europe has to think twice before wearing a Star of David, history is whispering a familiar warning.
In the United States, political rhetoric is also becoming more dangerous. Zohran Mamdani, the mayor of New York City, was elected with support that included Jewish voters, yet his harsh statements and positions regarding Israel have prompted criticism and concern among members of the Jewish community. A public leader must understand that at a time of rising antisemitism, words carry weight.
In Iran, the picture is even more severe. Regime officials who portray themselves as defenders of religion operate systems of repression against their own people. Human rights organizations have reported thousands of arbitrary arrests this year, unfair trials, and executions of people accused of political and security offenses, including individuals linked to protests against the regime.
When religious authorities use faith to justify fear, hanging, and repression, that is not holiness. It is a desecration of the very idea of religion.
That is precisely why The Odyssey is so relevant. The real journey in it is not only the voyage from Troy to Ithaca.
It can also be read as humanity’s journey back home, and back to its humanity, after years in which war taught people how to kill. The great question is not whether we will succeed in defeating the enemy but what kind of human being will remain within us after victory.
History demonstrates that civilization is a much thinner and more fragile layer than we like to believe. Beneath the suits, parliaments, universities, and smartphone screens remain the same fears, the same hatred, and the same tribal instincts that accompanied humanity thousands of years ago.
Homer wrote about the journey home, but behind the return to Ithaca lies a deeper question: Can a person who has endured years of war, loss, and violence truly return to his former life, and to the humanity he left behind? Nolan succeeds in bringing us back to that era with tremendous cinematic power.
Humanity’s most important journey is still unfinished. It is the journey from barbarism toward morality, justice, and humanity.
If we fail to learn the lesson, we may once again discover that the distance between Troy, Auschwitz, October 7, and the streets of Europe today is far shorter than we would like to believe.
The writer is CEO of Radios 100FM, an honorary consul and deputy dean of the Consular Diplomatic Corps, and president of the Israel Radio Communications Association. He previously served as a monitor for Army Radio and as a television correspondent for NBC.