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Before MAGA: Mithras, Phrygian Caps, and the Politics of Headwear

Despite the current political landscape of the US, we can look to antiquity to see that the red cap was actually once a symbol of citizenship and welcome to the foreigner.

A second century CE fresco of a Tauroctony (sacrificial killing of a bull) by the god Mithras from a Mithraeum in Capua, Italy (image via Miguel Hermoso Cuesta, CC BY-SA 4.0)

In the ancient world, headgear was a primary way of identifying with a glance, the status, trade, gender, ethnic background, and religion of an individual. One could often spot a craftsman in their conical felt hat (in Greek, a πῖλος, in Latin a pileus or pilleus) or recognize a farmer from their wide-brimmed caps used to keep the sun off while bringing in the harvest.

While elite Roman men were often seen without hats, women and those of certain social statuses frequently had their heads covered while in public. In the fourth century BCE, a round straw hat with a raised center called a tholia came into vogue among Greek women. Moreover, a Roman woman in mourning used a head scarf called a ricinium that was likely dark in color. During mourning, this scarf replaced the traditional female head covering called a palla and told people who encountered her that she was a widow.

A Hellenistic woman wearing a tholia hat, polychromy ceramic (330-100 BCE), (image via Walters Art Museum)

Hats were also a way of identifying foreigners in both life and art. The pileus was a hat popular within the area of Phrygia, an Anatolian kingdom which is now part of modern-day Turkey. It was made of either wool or felt and the top slumped forward. This Phrygian cap, as we call it today, was a way of identifying easterners like Amazons, Dacians (of modern Romania and Serbia), or Phrygians. Ancient artists often depicted mythological figures said to be from the eastern Mediterranean in this headware, men like the Trojan Aeneas, Ganymede, or Perseus.

Kylix with the head of an Amazon wearing a dotted Phrygian Cap and laurel wreath (fourth century BCE), ceramic (image via Walters Art Museum, CC0)

The cap was also part of the iconographic clothing worn by the god Mithras, an eastern deity born from a rock who would later become popular in the Roman Mediterranean during the second and third centuries CE. Mithras was an Indo-Iranian god at the center of a mystery cult — meaning that initiates kept many of the rites and beliefs secret. He was fashioned as a sun-god and bull killer within his Roman context.

And temples, constructed to honor him, called mithraea, were a reflection of the cosmos itself. Often Mithras was depicted in the center, slaying a bull. Frescoes and reliefs of Mithras preserve the stunning color that decorated these underground mithraea. Their existence under the earth often helped to preserve the color so they may be viewed today. By some counts, 400 archaeological sites show evidence for the worshipping of the god and his cosmos.

A fresco of a Tauroctony (sacrificial killing of a bull) by the god Mithras from a Mithraeum in Capua, Italy (second century CE) (image by Carole Raddato via Flickr)

At first, the Mithraic cults were popular among slaves, freedmen (i.e. slaves that had been manumitted), and Roman soldiers. Women were excluded from participation. Over time, the cult caught on and began to be acknowledged by the upper ranks of the social orders — all the way to equestrians, senators, and the emperor himself. Its early popularity with the hoi polloi has many parallels with the beginnings of Christianity, particularly that the birthday of Mithras was dated to December 25.

Early Christians don’t appear to have had as much affinity for the Phrygian cap as the followers of Mithras did—at least at first. However, Christian art did continue to use the Phrygian cap as a way of indicating the eastern identity of certain figures. Frescoes of the Magi bringing their gifts to the newly born Christ are often depicted wearing Phrygian caps — as they are in some of the earliest depictions from the catacombs in Rome. The Persian background of these men is further depicted in a sixth century CE mosaic in the Basilica of St. Apollinaris in Ravenna, Italy, which depicts the magi in traditional, patterned tights, tunics, and red Phrygian hats.

Mosaic of the Magi’s Adoration at the Basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo in Ravenna, Italy (completed ca. 526 CE) (image via Wikimedia)

The use of red hats to distinguish identity was not new in Roman society. The Phrygian cap was similar to the red freedman’s cap that was worn by male slaves being manumitted by their masters. During manumission ceremonies, the change in hat denoted their change in status from a servile piece of property to a freed Roman citizen endowed with libertas.

Reverse side of a coin issued minted by Brutus (42 BCE) referencing the assassination of Julius Caesar with the abbreviation EID MAR (Eidibus Martiis — on the Ides of March) with daggers on either side of a freedom cap (image via Wikimedia in the Public Domain)

At various times, the hat was used as a collective symbol of freedom beyond just manumission of individuals. Not long after the murder of Julius Caesar on the Ides of March in 44 BCE, one of the assassins, Brutus, minted coins with a freedom cap between two daggers as a sign of freedom from the tyranny of the dictator.

Crowds could rejoice in their freedom from an oppressive emperor by donning the freedman’s cap. This is the story we are told by the imperial historian Suetonius, who notes that upon the death of the emperor Nero in June of 68 CE: “such was the public rejoicing that the people put on liberty-caps and ran about all over the city.” This was the birth of the red hat in the Mediterranean, at least, as a symbol of both resistance and freedom from oppression.

A relief of Mithras wearing his Phrygian cap from Tor Cervara (2nd-3rd c. CE) with the paint worn off, now in Rome at the Baths of Diocletian (image by the author for Hyperallergic)

Although the Phrygian cap was most popular in the Roman period, it appears to have possibly influenced medieval headwear as well. Pope Constantine (r. 708-715) appears to have worn a type of frigium (the Greek letter phi, from Phrygian was often transliterated into Latin as either as a “ph” or an “f”) in order to enter into the city of Constantinople. The Phrygian cap and another type of headwear, known as the camelaucum (originally a camel skin cap), appear to have been combined and then modified for use by clerics in the early middle ages. It eventually informed the formation of the papal mitre by the 11th century, though it became white rather than red. The mitre would only grow in height over the years, but was originally a rather modest cap.

It was not until the eighteenth century that the red cap would have its renaissance as a symbol of revolution. In 1765, in the lead-up to the American Revolution, the liberty cap again made an appearance, this time within the context of the fight against the British. These red hats would be placed on pikes and paraded as symbols of resistance against colonial rule over the American colonies.

Henry Mitchell “The State Arms of the Union” (1876,)drawing of the state coat of arms for North Carolina, which includes a freedom cap on a pole (image via Wikimedia, Public Domain)

Not long thereafter, in the context of the French Revolution, the freedman’s cap would become the bonnet phrygien or bonnet rouge. It came into vogue in 1789 and 1790 as a symbol of liberty during the French Revolution. The sans-culottes (“those without knee breeches”) regularly donned the cap. It was rumored that Louis XVI was even forced to wear it following the overthrow of the French absolutist monarchy. Freedom from monarchy was the objective of a number of popular coups within the 18th century, but it is notable that other freedom movements also donned the cap. Abolitionists hoping to free slaves in French territories used the red cap in order to mark the push for the abolition of slavery in the French territories. A number of prints were created at the time with black men wearing liberty caps.

Taking a look around, it is clear that the alternate symbolism of orientalism and freedom encapsulated by ancient Phrygian headwear and then the red freedom cap has not completely disappeared from society. It is said that Belgian cartoonist Pierre Culliford (known as Peyo) had it in mind when creating Papa Smurf in the 1950s. And just a few years ago, sculptor Martin Puryear’s debut exhibition at Matthew Marks in the winter of 2014, attempted to remix and rethink the cap completely.

A 1794 engraving representing a black former slave dressed in a revolutionary outfit with red liberty cap. The caption reads “Moi Libre aussi” (I am free too) (Bibliothèque nationale de France, image via Wikimedia public domain )

Even if in today’s political landscape in the US the red MAGA hats that dotted the landscape in the 2016 election have come to symbolize isolationism and exclusion of immigrant, we need only to look to antiquity to realize that the red cap was actually once a symbol of freedom and citizenship. Within the context of Mithras, it was also about recognizing and embracing the customs, habits, and religion of foreign-born persons, rather than using walls, executive orders, and hateful rhetoric to exclude them.

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