Here, as elsewhere, the case of Melos is treated with lack of close attention. Hanink tells us that the Melian citizens “refused to bow” to the Athenian bullies. In fact, the marble-rich island’s oligarchic rulers gave them no chance to vote on the matter. The reason is not far to seek: had there been a referendum, the Melians would almost certainly have chosen to stay alive and — key point — would have taken the chance to dump the oligarchs. When the citizens of Acanthus — in northeast Greece — were menaced in a similar way by the Spartan Brasidas, they took the soft option and stayed alive. When Greeks meet Greeks, they rarely agree. The essence of their genius and of their ructions is summarised in the regular ancient use of the enclitics men (on the one hand) and de (on the other).

The Greek Debt is, essentially, a fun book. Except in prim eyes, Hanink can be excused for her mix’n’match summaries of what happened two and a half thousand years ago, since much of her energy is devoted to ridiculing the attempts of European powers — England and Germany in particular — to refashion post-Ottoman Greece in antique costume. But can Hanink seriously believe that an oracular prophecy “caused” Oedipus to kill his father?  Or that the Greeks “stole” their philosophy? She cites a 1953 “historian from Guyana”, but not Mary Lefkowitz’s 1996 Not Out Of Africa, a condign dismissal of the fantasy that Hellenic intelligence derived from a cultural heist.

Elsewhere, Hanink suggests that Solon — the founding father of Athenian democracy — settled an ancient financial crisis by his policy of seisachtheia, the annulling of all debts owed by the lower class. In fact, there was one form of debt which he did not rescind: money owed to the state. If the modern Greek state had collected its taxes, and if a single member of parliament had deigned to pay them, the current pickle might have been averted. The game of fiscal fraud was a national sport. Who can be surprised that no Greek politician, of Left or Right, doubted the propriety of hoodwinking the humourless Eurocrats, especially when led by Germany?

Hanink is boldly, and amusingly, iconoclastic when it comes to “our” affectations of cultural superiority. Like any number of star-struck academics, however, she says little in criticism of Pericles, who set a precedent for imaginative use of funds by spending the tribute paid by Athens’ allies, supposedly for mutual defence, in order to rebuild the temples on the Acropolis. Hanink claims that the prudent so-called “Olympian” warned against an expansionist war; so he did, until he didn’t. Like Robert McNamara, when it came to Vietnam, he assumed that the side with most money was bound to win and discounted the place of chance in history. When things took a disastrous turn, Pericles promised the disgruntled electors that victory would bring them huge dividends (see Vincent Azoulay’s uncited 2016 biography).