Take a Random Walk Around the Berlin Wall Just Months Before Its Sudden Fall (Summer 1989)

Offi­cial­ly, the Berlin Wall fell on Novem­ber 9, 1989. Demo­li­tion would take more than four years, and a few sec­tions remain for memo­r­i­al pur­pos­es, but it was on that date that pas­sage between East and West Berlin — and thus East and West Ger­many — opened to all cit­i­zens of both coun­tries. To say that it came as a sur­prise would be a seri­ous under­state­ment. Ear­li­er that year, even the best informed observers were pre­dict­ing that the wall would stand for at least a few more decades. Ear­li­er that day, for that mat­ter, the offi­cials involved in the open­ing did­n’t fore­see that Social­ist Uni­ty Par­ty of Ger­many Sec­re­tary of Infor­ma­tion Gün­ter Sch­abows­ki would, that evening, mis­tak­en­ly declare on nation­al tele­vi­sion that the lib­er­al­iza­tion of bor­der trav­el was effec­tive “imme­di­ate­ly, with­out delay.”

When the bor­der guards final­ly gave up their attempts to hold the line around 11:00 that night, the sur­round­ing scene in both Berlins had turned into what atten­dees now remem­ber, 36 years lat­er, as the biggest street fes­ti­val of their lives. To those of us unable to join in the cel­e­bra­tion at the time, it may seem unlike­ly that such an event could real­ly have occurred with no inti­ma­tions what­so­ev­er.

Yet the footage shot by a trav­el­er in Berlin dur­ing the sum­mer of 1989, right there in the vicin­i­ty of the wall, depicts a city where events seem to be frozen. Though the built envi­ron­ment isn’t with­out touch­es of fad­ed grandeur here and there (and as many West Berlin­ers were soon to dis­cov­er, the real urban state­li­ness was over East), the over­all impres­sion giv­en by what was then the red hot cen­ter of Cold War geopol­i­tics is that of a dullsville.

The most out­ward­ly inter­est­ing fea­ture in these parts of Berlin at the very end of the nine­teen-eight­ies is, of course, the wall itself: the brutish­ness of its form, the hum­drum men­ace of its guards, the accu­mu­la­tion of graf­fi­ti both polit­i­cal and apo­lit­i­cal. At one point, the tourist’s cam­corder cap­tures the memo­ri­als for fall­en wall jumpers, the most recent of which, a cer­tain Chris Guef­froy, had made his fate­ful escape attempt from the East that past Feb­ru­ary. His­to­ry would soon immor­tal­ize him as the last per­son to be shot try­ing to get over the wall, though not the last to die doing so. That title belongs to Win­fried Freuden­berg, who in March of 1989 fell from a bal­loon he’d rigged up to fly across the bor­der. At this point, when the rapid urban evo­lu­tion of the reuni­fied Ger­man cap­i­tal has long since made it one of the most pop­u­lar cities in Europe, nei­ther she nor Guef­froy would rec­og­nize the for­mer East Berlin they were des­per­ate to escape — nor, for that mat­ter, the West Berlin of which they dreamed.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Berlin Wall Worked: The Engi­neer­ing & Struc­tur­al Design of the Wall That For­mi­da­bly Divid­ed East & West

See Berlin Before and After World War II in Star­tling Col­or Video

The Gold­en Age of Berlin Comes to Life in the Clas­sic, Avant-Garde Film, Berlin: Sym­pho­ny of a Metrop­o­lis (1927)

The Dos & Don’ts of Dri­ving to West Berlin Dur­ing the Cold War: A Weird Piece of Ephemera from the 1980s

Bruce Spring­steen Plays East Berlin in 1988: I’m Not Here For Any Gov­ern­ment. I’ve Come to Play Rock

Watch Samuel Beck­ett Walk the Streets of Berlin Like a Boss, 1969

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Who Would Be King of the United States If George Washington Had Become a Monarch?

The young George Wash­ing­ton may nev­er have hacked up his father’s cher­ry tree and refused to lie about it, but his life nev­er­the­less offers plen­ty of deeds both vir­tu­ous and ade­quate­ly doc­u­ment­ed. It was no small thing, for instance, to refuse to seek a third term as the first Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca — much less to exchange that title for “King of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca.” As every enthu­si­ast of Amer­i­can his­to­ry knows, this set the prece­dent, only once vio­lat­ed and there­after writ­ten into law, of a two-term lim­it. But as every enthu­si­ast of alter­nate Amer­i­can his­to­ry has won­dered, what would have hap­pened had Wash­ing­ton become king? And if the U.S. monar­chy had remained intact for the past 227 years, who would rule it today?

In the Use­fulCharts video above, Matt Bak­er explains a series of dif­fer­ent suc­ces­sion sce­nar­ios. While none is high­ly plau­si­ble in itself, they togeth­er give an idea of the lines along which Amer­i­can monar­chi­cal his­to­ry could have played out, at least assum­ing that every oth­er event played out exact­ly the same way as it has in our real­i­ty.

One of the first com­pli­cat­ing fac­tors is that Wash­ing­ton him­self had no bio­log­i­cal descen­dants. Giv­en that, we can trace down a the­o­ret­i­cal roy­al lin­eage start­ing with his adopt­ed son, born from his wife Martha’s first mar­riage; with the nephew he select­ed as the pri­ma­ry heir of his estate; or with the senior-most heir of his father (own­er of the notion­al cher­ry tree). Not that any of those major paths through the chart of Wash­ing­ton’s indi­rect descen­dants is nec­es­sar­i­ly straight­for­ward either.

The whole mat­ter seems at least as com­pli­cat­ed as fig­ur­ing out who would be the Roman emper­or if Rome had nev­er fall­en, an exer­cise Bak­er works through in anoth­er Use­fulCharts video pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture. The pos­si­bil­i­ties for the Amer­i­can monarch in 2026 come down to King Robert III, or Robert E. Lee V (and great-great grand­son of Robert E. Lee); Queen Bryn­da, or Bryn­da Hansen; King Richard, or Richard Wash­ing­ton; and King Lar­ry II, or Lawrence Shaffn­er, the descen­dant of George Wash­ing­ton’s nephew Bushrod. Bak­er finds that Shaffn­er is the most con­vinc­ing can­di­date for the job, which is hard to deny. Even apart from the rel­e­vant famil­ial, polit­i­cal, and legal fac­tors, con­sid­er that name again. King Lar­ry: apart from the title, how much more Amer­i­can could it pos­si­bly sound?

Relat­ed con­tent:

Who Would Be Emper­or If the Roman Empire Still Exist­ed Today?

How George Wash­ing­ton Became Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States: It Was Weird­er Than You Think

George Washington’s 110 Rules for Civil­i­ty and Decent Behav­ior

What We Can Learn from Past Pres­i­dents

A Japan­ese Illus­trat­ed His­to­ry of Amer­i­ca (1861): Fea­tures George Wash­ing­ton Punch­ing Tigers, John Adams Slay­ing Snakes & Oth­er Fan­tas­tic Scenes

A Visu­al Time­line of World His­to­ry: Watch the Rise & Fall of Civ­i­liza­tions Over 5,000 Years

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The Spread of Christianity Animated, from Antiquity Until Today, on an Animated Map

Chris­tian­i­ty has long been close­ly iden­ti­fied with West­ern civ­i­liza­tion. The asso­ci­a­tion is espe­cial­ly strong, in mod­ern times, with the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca, that source of deri­sive­ly quot­ed, quite pos­si­bly apoc­ryphal argu­ments that “if Eng­lish was good enough for Jesus Christ, it ought to be good enough for our chil­dren.” But of course, Jesus nev­er heard a word of Eng­lish, and though the spread of the reli­gion named after him did shift into high gear not long after his death — to say noth­ing of after Con­stan­ti­ne’s — it took its sweet time get­ting to the Amer­i­can con­ti­nent. In fact, it does­n’t show up there until more than five and a half min­utes into the new eight-minute video from Ollie Bye above, which ani­mates Chris­tian­i­ty’s his­tor­i­cal prop­a­ga­tion on a world map.

It’s a world map by the end, in any case: the view zooms out as the reach of Chris­tian­i­ty increas­es, start­ing with the region we now call the Mid­dle East and end­ing up with every con­ti­nent on dis­play, none of them untouched save Antarc­ti­ca (which actu­al­ly does have eight church­es of its own). Remark­able though it is that this first-cen­tu­ry “desert reli­gion” has tak­en root in such a vari­ety of envi­ron­ments, cul­tures, and soci­eties, it has­n’t come through that process com­plete­ly unchanged.

Indeed, Bye’s map includes a run­ning leg­end of its major vari­ants, from Nicene, Celtic, and Chal­cedon­ian Chris­tian­i­ty ear­ly on to Angli­can, Luther­an, Bap­tist, and many more in our time. It makes less sense to speak of the spread of Chris­tian­i­ty, per­haps, than the spread of Chris­tian­i­ties.

In the sin­gu­lar or the plur­al, what has made all this so adapt­able to such a wide vari­ety of human set­tings? Chris­tian­i­ty’s non-eth­nic uni­ver­sal­ism sure­ly has some­thing to do with it, as does the broad emo­tion­al res­o­nance of its core nar­ra­tives of sin, sal­va­tion, and rebirth. The assid­u­ous trans­la­tion of its texts and out­ward march of mis­sion­ar­ies and oth­er car­ri­ers of the gospel has been going on almost since the very begin­ning. Through­out its his­to­ry, Chris­tian­i­ty has also shown the ver­sa­til­i­ty to thrive as a clan­des­tine under­ground move­ment, a state reli­gion, and every­thing in between. All the while, it has assim­i­lat­ed qual­i­ties of the civ­i­liza­tions it enters, from Gre­co-Roman phi­los­o­phy to Celtic fes­ti­vals to Kore­an shaman­is­tic tra­di­tions. In fact, I’m writ­ing this very post from one of the many church cafés in Seoul, as con­vinc­ing an expe­ri­ence as to under­score Chris­tian­i­ty’s improb­a­ble — and con­tin­u­ing — endurance.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Ani­mat­ed Map Shows How the Five Major Reli­gions Spread Across the World (3000 BC — 2000 AD)

180,000 Years of Reli­gion Chart­ed on a “His­tom­ap” in 1943

The Birth and Rapid Rise of Islam, Ani­mat­ed (622‑1453)

A Visu­al Map of the World’s Major Reli­gions (and Non-Reli­gions)

World Reli­gions Explained with Use­ful Charts: Hin­duism, Bud­dhism, Judaism, Islam, Chris­tian­i­ty & More

The His­to­ry of the World in One Video: Every Year from 200,000 BCE to Today

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Hand-Colored Photographs from 19th Century Japan: 110 Images Capture the Waning Days of Traditional Japanese Society

What we euphemisti­cal­ly refer to as the “Open­ing of Japan” cat­alyzed a peri­od of seis­mic upheaval for the proud for­mer­ly closed coun­try. Between the fall of the Toku­gawa shogu­nate in 1853 and the Mei­ji restora­tion in 1868, Japan­ese soci­ety changed rapid­ly due to the sud­den forced influx of for­eign cap­i­tal and influ­ence, much of it destruc­tive. “Unem­ploy­ment rose,” writes his­to­ri­an John W. Dow­er, “Domes­tic prices soared sky high…. Much of Japan was wracked by famine in the mid 1860s…. As if all this were not curse enough, the for­eign­ers also brought cholera with them.” They also brought pho­tog­ra­phy, and both West­ern and Japan­ese pho­tog­ra­phers doc­u­ment­ed not only the country’s pro­found trans­for­ma­tion, but also its tra­di­tion­al dress and cul­ture.

Closed for 200 years, Japan became a source of end­less fas­ci­na­tion for West­ern­ers as arti­facts made their way across the sea. Among them was “an exten­sive pho­to­graph­ic doc­u­men­ta­tion of Japan,” notes the New York Pub­lic Library, and “of inter­ac­tion between the Japan­ese and for­eign­ers” (Com­modore Perry’s expe­di­tion to Tokyo Bay includ­ed a daguerreo­type pho­tog­ra­ph­er.)

“In the broad­est sense, pho­tog­ra­phy entered Asia from Europe and Amer­i­ca as part of the process of colo­nial­ism, but soon took root in those regions with local pho­tog­ra­phers.”

The col­orized images you see here come from the NYPL’s large col­lec­tion of late 19th cen­tu­ry Japan­ese pho­tog­ra­phy, tak­en by pho­tog­ra­phers like the Ital­ian-British Felice Beato and his Japan­ese stu­dent Kim­bei, who “assist­ed Beato in the hand-col­or­ing of pho­tographs until 1863,” then “set up his own large and flour­ish­ing stu­dio in Yoko­hama in 1881.” The archive pro­vides “a rich resource for the under­stand­ing of the polit­i­cal, social, eco­nom­ic, and artis­tic his­to­ry of Asia from the 1870s to the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry.” These images date from between 1890 and 1909, by which time much of Japan had already been exten­sive­ly west­ern­ized in dress, archi­tec­ture, and style of gov­ern­ment.

To many Japan­ese, the old ways, sus­tained through a cou­ple hun­dred years of iso­la­tion, must have seemed in dan­ger of slip­ping away. To many West­ern­ers, how­ev­er, the encounter with Japan offered a kind of cul­tur­al renew­al. As the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art points out, “a tidal wave of for­eign imports” from Asia, includ­ing “wood­cut prints by mas­ters of the ukiyo‑e school… trans­formed Impres­sion­ist and Post-Impres­sion­ist art.” Euro­pean col­lec­tors, traders, and artists dis­cov­ered a mania for all things Japan­ese, even as some of its cul­tur­al forms threat­ened to dis­ap­pear. Enter the NYPL’s dig­i­tal col­lec­tion, Pho­tographs of Japan, here.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2017.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Behold the Mas­ter­piece by Japan’s Last Great Wood­block Artist: View Online Tsukio­ka Yoshitoshi’s One Hun­dred Aspects of the Moon (1885)

What Hap­pens When a Japan­ese Wood­block Artist Depicts Life in Lon­don in 1866, Despite Nev­er Hav­ing Set Foot There

Japan­ese Kabu­ki Actors Cap­tured in 18th-Cen­tu­ry Wood­block Prints by the Mys­te­ri­ous & Mas­ter­ful Artist Sharaku

The Evo­lu­tion of The Great Wave off Kana­gawa: See Four Ver­sions That Hoku­sai Paint­ed Over Near­ly 40 Years

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

Every Book of the Bible Explained in One Video

Whether we’re reli­gious or not, we can all agree that the Bible isn’t just a book. In fact, it’s at least 66 of them, 39 Old Tes­ta­ment and 27 in the New, and that’s just in the Protes­tant tra­di­tion. Even if you’ve nev­er read a sin­gle page of the Bible, you may well have a decent idea of what quite a few of those books con­tain: the sto­ries of Adam, Eve, Noah, and the cre­ation in Gen­e­sis; the plagues and Moses part­ing the Red Sea in Exo­dus; the var­i­ous depic­tions of Jesus in the Gospels that define his pop­u­lar image; the apoc­a­lyp­tic grotes­queries of Rev­e­la­tion. That’s even like­li­er to be true if you watch Hochela­ga, the YouTube chan­nel that just came out with a new video explain­ing all those sto­ries and every­thing in between.

The result is long, to be sure, but not as long as you might expect: Hochela­ga cre­ator Tom­mie Trelawny man­ages to cov­er the 66 books of the Bible in two hours, the length of an ordi­nary fea­ture film. For visu­als, he draws upon the his­to­ry of West­ern art, whose con­nec­tions with Chris­tian­i­ty and pen­chant for depict­ing the reli­gion’s cen­tral events goes with­out say­ing.

In the case of bib­li­cal fig­ures like Jon­ah, Job, or Lot’s wife (before or after her con­ver­sion into a pil­lar of salt), we’ve devel­oped our own men­tal images at least through cul­tur­al osmo­sis, informed or not by the visions of Renais­sance mas­ters. But how many of us can call so eas­i­ly scenes from the books of Oba­di­ah, Hag­gai, or Phile­mon up in our mind’s eye?

This video may prove most help­ful in pro­vid­ing a “big pic­ture” of the Bible, allow­ing view­ers with no expe­ri­ence of bib­li­cal schol­ar­ship to place iso­lat­ed episodes to which they’ve heard ref­er­ences all their lives in con­text with each oth­er. And yet, it’s also entire­ly pos­si­ble that they’ll come out of these two hours won­der­ing to what extent all these parts real­ly fit togeth­er in the first place. Col­lect­ed from mate­r­i­al orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten over cen­turies and in var­i­ous forms, not to men­tion passed through the vagaries of trans­la­tion, the Bible could hard­ly be expect­ed to present itself with pol­ished coher­ence. Whether or not you believe it con­tains the word of God, you could well feel ready, after Hochela­ga’s overview, to grap­ple with its text in all its lin­guis­tic rich­ness, its sur­pris­ing con­tra­dic­tions, and its moral grandeur — as well as its more-than-occa­sion­al strange­ness.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Chris­tian­i­ty Through Its Scrip­tures: A Free Course from Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty

Why Real Bib­li­cal Angels Are Creepy, Beast­ly, and Hard­ly Angel­ic

What Hap­pened to Jesus’ Twelve Dis­ci­ples After the Bible — It Wasn’t Pret­ty

How Many Lives Does God Take in the Bible: An Inves­ti­ga­tion into a Sur­pris­ing­ly High Body Count

Dis­cov­er Thomas Jefferson’s Cut-and-Paste Ver­sion of the Bible, and Read the Curi­ous Edi­tion Online

Isaac Asimov’s Guide to the Bible: A Wit­ty, Eru­dite Atheist’s Guide to the World’s Most Famous Book

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Archaeologists Discover Ancient Egyptian Mummy Buried with Pages from Homer’s Iliad: When Literature Guided Souls Through the Afterlife

Renais­sance Europe admired ancient Rome, ancient Rome admired ancient Greece, and ancient Greece admired ancient Egypt. But the admi­ra­tion could actu­al­ly go both ways in that last case, since the two civ­i­liza­tions’ peri­ods of exis­tence over­lapped. The Greeks made no secret of their regard for Egypt as a far deep­er well of knowl­edge and wis­dom (indeed, much of what we know about ancient Egypt today comes from Greek records), but archae­o­log­i­cal evi­dence shows that the Egyp­tians, in turn, were hard­ly dis­mis­sive of Greek accom­plish­ment. Many Hel­lenic texts have been dis­cov­ered in Egypt­ian bur­ial sites, but only recent­ly has a Greek lit­er­ary work turned up pack­aged with a mum­my — and not just any lit­er­ary work, but pages from Home­r’s Ili­ad.

Unearthed from a 1,600-year-old Roman-era tomb in the Egypt­ian town of Al Bah­nasa, the frag­ment con­tains lines from Book 2’s epic “cat­a­logue of ships,” which lists all the ves­sels the Achaean army sends off to Troy. It dates from an era in ancient Egypt, cen­turies after the reign of the Greek-descend­ed Cleopa­tra, when “Greek lit­er­ary papyri may have func­tioned as a cru­cial cul­tur­al pass­port,” as the New York Times’ Franz Lidz writes.

“Being Hel­lenic con­not­ed an exclu­sive social sta­tus and finan­cial priv­i­lege — and had to be metic­u­lous­ly doc­u­ment­ed through genealo­gies going back across sev­er­al cen­turies.” It’s pos­si­ble that pages of the Ili­ad were assumed to act as a kind of Greek pass­port that would let the deceased bypass the tri­als of the under­world described in the Egypt­ian Book of the Dead.

So ven­er­at­ed was Home­r’s work at this stage of ancient Egypt­ian his­to­ry, in fact, that physi­cians also cred­it­ed it with cura­tive prop­er­ties. “For a bed-bound patient shiv­er­ing with malar­ia, the pre­scrip­tion was sim­ple: Brace your head against a papyrus scroll of Book 4 to break the fever.” What­ev­er the effec­tive­ness of the Ili­ad against infec­tious dis­ease, or even to assure safe pas­sage into the world beyond, its con­tin­ued study around the world more than a mil­len­ni­um and a half after it was get­ting slipped into Egypt­ian tombs — and the bet­ter part of three mil­len­nia after its com­po­si­tion — sug­gests a kind of his­tor­i­cal and cul­tur­al pow­er not pos­sessed by ordi­nary lit­er­a­ture. If Christo­pher Nolan’s com­ing adap­ta­tion of the Odyssey hap­pens to do well enough to get Hol­ly­wood back on its feet, per­haps we’ll have to give it to the ancient Egyp­tians and admit that Homer real­ly does offer sal­va­tion after all.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Homer’s Ili­ad and Odyssey: Free Audio­Books & eBooks

Hear Homer’s Ili­ad Read in the Orig­i­nal Ancient Greek

The Only Illus­trat­ed Man­u­script of Homer’s Ili­ad from Antiq­ui­ty

The Old­est Tat­toos Ever Dis­cov­ered on an Egypt­ian Mum­my Date Back 5,000 Years

The Ancient Egypt­ian Book of the Dead: A Guide­book for Sur­viv­ing the After­life

How Did the Egyp­tians Make Mum­mies? An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to the Ancient Art of Mum­mi­fi­ca­tion

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Watch the Moment When the Wreck of the Titanic Was First Discovered (1985)

The wreck of the RMS Titan­ic has nev­er ceased to com­mand atten­tion, from pop-cul­tur­al fas­ci­na­tion to sci­en­tif­ic scruti­ny and every­thing in between. That can make it seem, espe­cial­ly to the younger gen­er­a­tions, as if human­i­ty has been gaz­ing upon its remains since they first set­tled at the bot­tom of the North Atlantic Ocean. In fact, the pre­cise loca­tion of the ship­wreck went unknown for more than 73 years, between the day of the dis­as­ter, April 15th, 1912, and that of the dis­cov­ery, Sep­tem­ber 1, 1985. In the video above, you can watch the very moment debris from the Titan­ic first came into the view of Argo, the unmanned under­sea cam­era used by the researchers seek­ing it out.

“Some­body should get Bob,” says one of the crew as soon as it becomes clear, even on their low-res­o­lu­tion black-and-white mon­i­tor, that they’re look­ing at man-made objects on the sea floor. And well they should have: the Bob in ques­tion is oceanog­ra­ph­er and Argo inven­tor Robert Bal­lard, who’d been active­ly think­ing about how to find the Titan­ic since at least the ear­ly nine­teen-sev­en­ties and board­ed Woods Hole Oceano­graph­ic Insti­tute’s R/V Knorr with intent to find it.

In truth, the voy­age was financed by the U.S. Navy, which had much less inter­est in find­ing the wreck of the Titan­ic than those of the USS Scor­pi­on and Thresh­er, two nuclear sub­marines lost in the six­ties. If Bal­lard could look for them, so the deal went, he could use the expe­di­tion’s spare time and resources on his life’s mis­sion.

After deter­min­ing that the Scor­pi­on and Thresh­er had implod­ed, Bal­lard and the Knorr crew con­tin­ued on to the gen­er­al area in which the Titan­ic sank. Know­ing that the infa­mous­ly “unsink­able” ocean lin­er would have been sub­ject to the same mighty under­sea pres­sure, they kept their eyes open, through Argo, for sim­i­lar­ly scat­tered frag­ments rather than intact sec­tions of the hull. As the video shows us, the strat­e­gy worked: only when a trail of debris leads them to an iden­ti­fi­able boil­er, proof pos­i­tive that they’d found what they were look­ing for, does the cheer go up. Bal­lard would go on to dis­cov­er oth­er wide­ly known ship­wrecks — the bat­tle­ship Bis­mar­ck, the air­craft car­ri­er USS York­town in 1998 — but one sus­pects that noth­ing quite match­es that first Titan­ic high.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

What Happened to Jesus’ Twelve Disciples After the Bible—It Wasn’t Pretty

The sto­ries in the Bible have been told in many ways, not least through film. Among the many cin­e­mat­ic adap­ta­tions of Chris­tian­i­ty’s holy book, none comes to mind that ends with freeze-frame title cards explain­ing the lat­er fate of each char­ac­ter, in the man­ner of Ani­mal House, Amer­i­can Graf­fi­ti, or Good­fel­las. This is sur­pris­ing, since that device could do much to sat­is­fy our curios­i­ty about so many sec­ondary Bib­li­cal fig­ures. Take the twelve dis­ci­ples of Jesus Christ, whose lives Hochela­ga cre­ator Tom­mie Trelawny takes as his sub­ject in the new video above. Be warned: things did­n’t end par­tic­u­lar­ly well for most of them.

Peter, who “has to be one of the most stud­ied fig­ures in his­to­ry,” seems to have end­ed his days in Rome. Chris­tian­i­ty’s rapid spread there in the first cen­tu­ry AD, even­tu­al­ly brought about a crack­down by the rul­ing class. The emper­or Nero blamed the fire of 64 on Chris­tians, and Peter, now known as Saint Peter, was among the vic­tims of the result­ing per­se­cu­tion. Judas, the betray­er of Jesus, “remains the most con­tro­ver­sial fig­ure in all of Chris­tian­i­ty,” though ques­tions about his moti­va­tions have gone with­out defin­i­tive answers. We do know, how­ev­er, that remorse even­tu­al­ly over­took him, lead­ing him to take his own life in Akel­dama, or the “field of blood” — and if you believe Dante, he now resides in the ninth cir­cle of Hell.

Trelawny gives the title of most under­rat­ed to the one whose skep­ti­cism about Jesus’ return from death has guar­an­teed him his own eter­nal life through the expres­sion “doubt­ing Thomas.” (As with Peter and Judas, his iden­ti­ty was solid­i­fied by a Car­avag­gio paint­ing.) Accord­ing to cer­tain sto­ries, he also trav­eled the far­thest of any of the dis­ci­ples: far enough to fol­low exist­ing Roman spice routes and found the church of the Saint Thomas Chris­tians in Ker­ala, India. The not-quite-as-wide­ly known but nev­er­the­less high­ly impor­tant Andrew made trav­els of his own, going to Scythia, and from there to Greece. After his even­tu­al cap­ture and cru­ci­fix­ion, his holy relics were scat­tered far and wide: even to Scot­land, so the leg­end has it, home of the Uni­ver­si­ty of St. Andrews. The St. Andrews’ Cross appears as the main design ele­ment of Scot­land’s nation­al flag, as well as a part of the Union Jack.

In these and oth­er ways, the lega­cies of the dis­ci­ples con­tin­ue to man­i­fest in famil­iar ways through­out the West­ern (and, occa­sion­al­ly, non-west­ern) world. After telling the sto­ries of the remain­ing eight, from John to Bartholomew to Simon the Zealot, Trelawny con­sid­ers the pos­si­bil­i­ty of a mnemon­ic rhyme for their fates. Alas, he admits, “I’m still try­ing to think of what goes with ‘flayed alive by Arme­ni­ans.’ ” Being a dis­ci­ple of Jesus turns out, for the most part, to have been a call­ing with a very low sur­vival rate indeed. But then, in ear­ly Chris­tian­i­ty, mar­tyr­dom was a holy act, a demon­stra­tion of devo­tion in imi­ta­tion of the Mes­si­ah him­self — and an ele­ment sure to make most any dis­ci­ple biopic a grue­some view­ing expe­ri­ence.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Real Sto­ry of East­er: How We Got from the First East­er in the Bible to Bun­nies, Eggs & Choco­late

The Gnos­tic Gospels: An Intro­duc­tion to the For­bid­den Teach­ings of Jesus

Why Real Bib­li­cal Angels Are Creepy, Beast­ly, and Hard­ly Angel­ic

How Our Depic­tion of Jesus Changed Over 2,000 Years and What He May Have Actu­al­ly Looked Like

How Many Lives Does God Take in the Bible: An Inves­ti­ga­tion into a Sur­pris­ing­ly High Body Count

What Makes Caravaggio’s The Tak­ing of Christ a Time­less, Great Paint­ing?

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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