Beowulf

: Still Kicking (and Bashing Skulls) After a Thousand Years

Alright, settle down. We’re talking Beowulf. You know, that old yarn about a bloke who travels across the sea to sort out a monster problem for some Danes who couldn’t handle their mead or their monsters. We’ve all read bits of it at some point, probably under duress. But let’s dig a little deeper than the surface-level heroics. Because, honestly, when you look at Beowulf through a modern lens – without the dusty filters of “epic poetry” and “cultural heritage” – it gets a damn sight more interesting. And frankly, a bit unsettling.

Think about it. We’ve got this ancient text, a product of a world that’s utterly alien to us. A world of gods and monsters, where strength settled everything, and the blokes in charge got there because their dads were in charge, or because they could hit harder than anyone else.

Now, hold that thought and look at our world. Science has elbowed superstition out of the way (mostly). We try to run things with this messy, shouty business called democracy. We talk a good game about wanting peace, even if we’re still tripping over our own feet starting wars. And half the population – the women, in case you needed reminding – are finally starting to get a word in edgewise, after being told to just stand there and look pretty for centuries.

Slam those two worlds together, and Beowulf starts to creak.

Firstly, the monsters. Grendel, his mum, the dragon. The poem paints them as straight-up, no-muss-no-fuss evil, sent by God thanks to Cain’s ancient screw-up. Simple, clean. But what if Grendel wasn’t just a demon? What if he was just a miserable sod, living on the fringes, pissed off because the Danes were having a perpetual rave next door? We’d call that a social issue now, maybe a mental health problem. Back then? “Spawn of Cain.” Easy. It just shows how ready these folks were to blame anything they didn’t understand on something supernatural. Couldn’t be a bad harvest because the soil’s knackered, could it? Must be the gods are miffed. This is the world of Superstition versus Science, and Beowulf is firmly in the “blame the gods” camp.

Then there’s the governance. Kings, lords, everyone bowing and scraping. Rule by strength, plain and simple. Beowulf becomes king because he’s the last bloke standing who can actually win a fight. There’s no ballot box, no public debate, just “can he kill the beastie?” And the loyalty flows upwards – you protect your king, and he gives you shiny things. It’s a transactional kind of power. Compare that to our glorious, chaotic Democracy. Imagine King Hrothgar having to get planning permission to build Heorot, or facing a vote of no confidence because Grendel keeps trashing the place. It’s a laugh, isn’t it? Beowulf’s world is a stark reminder of how precarious power can be when it’s tied to one person’s ability to smack things around.

And the violence. Bloody hell, the violence. Beowulf’s the hero because he’s good at killing things. The whole culture is steeped in it. Revenge is practically a hobby. Someone killed your mate? Right, time to kill one of theirs. And so on, and so on. There’s no attempt at talking it out, no peace talks. Just steel and bone. This is the Pacifism versus Warrior Culture clash. We pay lip service to peace now, we send in negotiators, we have international treaties. The Beowulf crew? They sharpened their swords. They wouldn’t understand our squeamishness about a good old-fashioned blood feud.

Finally, the women. Oh dear. Peace-weavers, cup-bearers, occasionally a monstrous avenger who gets demonised for, you know, avenging her son. That’s about the size of it. They’re tokens, bargaining chips, or something to be fought against. Queen Wealhtheow hands out mead and tells the blokes what a great job they’re doing. Grendel’s mother is just a problem to be eliminated, a “monstrous hell-bride.” That’s your lot. The Feminism versus Patriarchy divide couldn’t be clearer. Imagine if Beowulf’s sister had been the one with the strength, off sailing to Denmark to sort things out. The poem would be a damn sight different, and probably wouldn’t have lasted a thousand years in the shape it has.

So, what’s the point? Is Beowulf just a relic, a dusty old scroll? Not quite. It holds a mirror up to a world that was, a world built on fear, violence, and keeping people in their place. And by looking at it through our modern eyes, through the lenses of science, democracy, peace, and equality, we see just how far – and in some ways, perhaps how little – we’ve come. It’s educational, in a rather brutal, eye-opening sort of way.

Anyway.

Bēoþ gesunde! (Stay healthy!)

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