In the 1st century B.C., when Rome controlled most of the known world but its watchful eye was turned inward by internal civil wars, pirates based in Cilicia, in what is now southern Turkey, wreaked havoc on shipping lanes and coastal cities around the Mediterranean. Rome felt the pinch in 68 B.C. when Ostia, the harbor city at the mouth of the Tiber River, was sacked. The consular fleet was destroyed, the city was torched, and two senators were kidnapped: “Trade was at a standstill, and Rome itself was threatened with famine” because of a disruption in the grain supply (Ormerod, 233). What good are circuses without bread?

The people demanded action, even if it meant giving one man complete authority. Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, aka Pompey the Great (later a member of the 1st Triumvirate), was the man called upon to shiver the pirates’ timbers. Through the advocacy of his friend, the tribune Gabinius, and the overwhelming support of the people, Pompey wrested this unprecedented power, a three-year grant of absolute authority throughout the Mediterranean, from a grudging Senate.

For whatever was given up in terms of rights, Pompey delivered in results. A huge fleet was raised. Pompey divided the Mediterranean into 13 quadrants, and within the span of three months in 67 B.C., “the whole power of the pirates at sea dissolved everywhere.”

This achievement is itself remarkable, but Pompey’s treatment of the pirates is more so. In fact, it is partially because of his treatment of captured pirates that the whole web unraveled in so short a time frame. Sure, some swashbucklers were killed, but because of Pompey’s grasp of the underlying factors motivating one to take to the high seas under the skull and crossbones, a large portion of these men were settled on land around the provinces. Hearing of Pompey’s magnanimity, pirates began surrendering in droves. In Plutarch’s words, Pompey had wisely weighed:

That man by nature is not a wild or unsocial creature, neither was he born so, but makes himself what he naturally is not by vicious habit; and that again, on the other side, he is civilized and grows gentle by a change of place, occupation, and manner of life, as beasts themselves that are wild by nature become tame and tractable by housing and gentler usage.

Given the comfort of our couches and heavily laden tables, I think it wise to keep in mind this philosophical statement on human nature when judging the Somali pirates’ actions – certainly not excusable, but perhaps, just maybe, a bit understandable?

Why Somalia? You will probably remember Black Hawk Down (Atlantic Monthly Press, 1999), the book about 18 Army Rangers killed in Mogadishu and the warlords hijacking of United Nations food intended for the civilian population. It was in this unstable petri dish that Somali pirating had its origins. “After the government in Mogadishu collapsed in 1991, neighboring countries began illegally fishing in Somali waters. The first pirates were simply angry fishermen who boarded these foreign vessels and demanded a “fee.” Others began taking food from U.N. ships under the pretense that the warlords would get at it anyways. “According to some estimates, pirates in 2008 pulled in as much as $150 million, indicating that piracy is now Somalia’s biggest industry.” How do we like them apples?

This trade is clearly too lucrative of an opportunity for those coming from abject poverty to pass up. Ancient Rome speaks to us of a solution, and it’s not the one offered by Julius Caesar, who after having been ransomed by pirates tracked them down and crucified them. It is a solution that attacks the immediate problem with a unified, organized, and swift action, tempered with the realization that the problem itself has legitimate underpinnings that likewise need to be dealt with.

We could learn much from Pompey.

Portions of this article were based on Henry Ardene Ormerod’s Piracy in the Ancient World: an Essay in Mediterranean History, John Hopkins University Press, 1997.