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Fate, Fortune & Divination

Tyche and the Greek Art of Fortune: Chance, Lots, and the Will of the Gods

By Thomas Ainsley Croft, Contributing Editor - Myth & Literature · 18 September 2015

No people took the gods more seriously than the Greeks, and yet no people were more acutely aware of how much in life lay beyond the gods’ neat accounting. Crops failed, ships sank, battles turned on a gust of wind. To name this residue of the unpredictable, the Greeks did what they always did: they made it a god. Her name was Tyche - Fortune, Chance, the Luck that falls to a city or a person - and by the Hellenistic age she was among the most widely worshipped divinities in the Greek world.

The goddess who could not be bargained with

Tyche is a strange deity. She has temples, priests and splendid statues - the great Tyche of Antioch, crowned with the city’s walls, became one of the most copied images of antiquity - yet her defining quality is that she cannot be relied on. Hesiod lists her among the daughters of Ocean; later writers make her a cosmic power who raises the humble and topples the mighty for no reason a mortal can see. To worship Tyche was to acknowledge, honestly, that effort and merit do not explain everything. Some things simply fall out as they fall.

Reading the future: oracles and omens

Faced with that uncertainty, the Greeks did not shrug. They tried to read it. The whole vast apparatus of Greek divination - the oracle of Apollo at Delphi, the rustling oak at Dodona, the inspection of entrails and the flight of birds - was an attempt to glimpse, in advance, which way fortune would break. The point was never to abolish chance but to approach it with better information, to act with the odds at least partly understood. Much of this machinery is surveyed in our aphormai on oracles and divination.

Casting lots

Most striking of all, the Greeks built chance into the heart of their politics. In democratic Athens, a great many public offices were filled not by election but by lot (klēros) - names drawn by a randomising machine, the klērōtērion. This was not laziness. To draw lots was, in a sense, to let the gods choose; it guarded against bribery and ambition, and it expressed a deep conviction that fortune, handled rightly, could be fairer than human preference. Chance was not the enemy of order. Managed with discipline and respect, it could be its servant.

Dice, knucklebones, and the pleasure of the throw

And of course the Greeks played. The astragaloi - knucklebones, the ancestor of dice - turn up everywhere: in children’s games, in gambling among adults, and dedicated by the hundred in sanctuaries, where a lucky throw might be offered back to the god who granted it. Painted vases show gods and heroes themselves at the dice-board; Palamedes was even credited with inventing the games to pass the long years at Troy. The throw of the bones was a small, contained encounter with Tyche - a way of courting fortune within rules everyone agreed on.

That instinct has never left us. The games have changed their furniture - today the knucklebones have become the cards, wheels and reels of online entertainment platforms such as Betpas - but the sensible player still follows a rule the Greeks would have recognised at once: set your limits before you begin, treat fortune with respect rather than expecting to master her, and never stake more than you can comfortably afford to lose. The Greeks personified Tyche precisely so that they would never forget she is in the room.

The calculated risk

What the Greek relationship with fortune teaches, in the end, is a kind of mature realism. Chance is real and cannot be wished away; the gods do not guarantee outcomes; and wisdom lies not in pretending to control the uncontrollable but in acting prudently in its presence - gathering what knowledge you can, setting sensible bounds, and keeping your composure whichever way the bones fall. Tyche rewards no one reliably. But she is, the Greeks believed, a little kinder to those who approach her with their eyes open.

For more on how the Greeks structured their dealings with the divine - in sanctuary, ritual and sacred law - explore the rest of the blog, or begin with the reading schedule.

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Thomas Ainsley Croft - Contributing Editor - Myth & Literature

Thomas reads Greek tragedy and the travel-writer Pausanias for a living. He writes about the places where myth and religion meet in the texts, and keeps the reading lists current.

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