In 167 BCE, Roman forces sacked Epirote cities and enslaved populations, a grim coda to victory over Macedon [4][16]. The sound in Dodona’s hills was not a herald’s proclamation but doors splintering and chains clanking.
What Happened
The year after Pydna, Roman policy showed its iron hand. In Epirus—west of Thessaly, across the Pindus ranges and down to the Ionian—the Senate ordered punitive actions against communities accused of siding with Macedon. Livy reports mass enslavements and widespread devastation; modern summaries confirm the scale [4][16]. It was a message, and it was loud.
The targets included cities that had calculated poorly in a shifting war: places like Molossian regions where anti-Roman alignment had seemed a reasonable gamble before Pydna. Roman columns moved through valleys once famous for Dodona’s oaks and oracles. The colors that day were smoke-black and ash-gray. Doors crashed; courtyards filled with the clatter of iron. The sounds travel down the sources as chains and lamentation.
Why Epirus? Partly as deterrence: to show that, even as Rome spoke freedom in Corinth and partition in Amphipolis, it still punished disloyalty with exemplary ferocity [4]. Partly as logistics: soldiers expected donatives and outcomes that felt like victory. In an age when booty formed politics as well as pay, Epirus became account-settling by other means.
These operations stood in stark contrast to the theater at the Isthmus. There, Flamininus’s herald promised “free, ungarrisoned, untaxed” [3]. Here, lictors and tribunes supervised seizures and deportations. The contradiction was not lost on Greek observers. It was rationalized—these were not the Greeks celebrated at the games, but the unfaithful fringe who had spurned Roman guarantees [12][16].
Epirus’s geography made it vulnerable. Towns scattered in mountain basins could be isolated and overwhelmed in series. Coastal points near Nicopolis and Cassope received the ships that would transport captives. Inland, the road to Dodona saw columns of prisoners and carts piled with stripped goods. The Roman line was sharp: allies would be protected, enemies would be scoured.
In Rome, the news fed triumphal narratives and treasury needs. In Greece, it reminded councils that autonomy existed within Roman tolerance, not as a natural right. The freedom proclaimed at the Isthmus survived, but it now had teeth visible behind it [4][16].
Why This Matters
The Epirote sackings clarified Rome’s dual approach: benevolent liberator to compliant allies and devastating punisher to perceived traitors [4]. Practically, it enriched troops and terrorized border regions into compliance. Politically, it warned that the promise of autonomy coexisted with the capacity for annihilation.
The episode sharpens the theme of freedom as hegemonic theater by revealing its shadow. Rome’s rhetoric endured because it was largely kept; its deterrent power endured because moments like Epirus proved the alternative [3][16]. This moral economy—honor for the cooperative, ruin for the defiant—structured Greek choices for decades.
In the broader arc, the sackings helped prevent immediate uprisings during the Macedonian partition and made later revolts, like Andriscus’s, outliers rather than bandwagons [15]. Yet they also sowed bitterness that flared in other quarters, contributing to tensions that ended with the Achaean War and the sack of Corinth in 146 BCE [14].
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