He isn't the cool, calculated general you see in movies. Most people think of Ares, the Greek god of war, and imagine a stoic leader in gleaming armor. Honestly? That’s more of an Athena vibe. Ares was the "blood-stained" god. He was the scream in the middle of a chaotic shield wall. To the ancient Greeks, he represented the raw, terrifying, and often shameful side of combat that no one actually wanted to deal with unless they absolutely had to.
He’s messy. He’s impulsive.
Unlike his sister Athena, who managed the "strategy" and "justice" of war, Ares was the embodiment of the slaughter itself. If you were a soldier in the Bronze Age, you didn't pray to Ares because you wanted to win a chess match; you prayed to him because you were terrified of the red mist taking over and losing your life in a muddy ditch. He was the god of the "insatiable" war.
Why the Greeks Actually Kind of Hated Him
It’s a weird paradox. You’d think a militaristic society would love the god of war, right? Nope. Ares was actually one of the most unpopular gods in the Olympian pantheon. Even his own father, Zeus, tells him in the Iliad that he’s the most hateful of all the gods who dwell on Olympus. That’s harsh. Imagine your dad—who is literally the King of the Universe—telling you that your constant brawling and bloodlust make you unbearable.
The Greeks valued sophrosyne—this idea of self-control and balance. Ares is the literal opposite of that. He’s the guy who starts a bar fight for no reason and then complains when he gets hit back.
In Homeric literature, he’s often depicted as a bit of a loser, which is hilarious if you think about it. He gets wounded by mortals (with a little help from Athena). He gets trapped in a bronze jar by two giants, the Otus and Ephialtes, and has to be rescued by Hermes like a kid who got his head stuck in a railing. He represents the unpredictability of the battlefield. Sometimes you’re the hammer, but in the case of Ares, you’re often the anvil.
The Ares vs. Mars Distinction
You’ve probably heard people use Ares and Mars interchangeably. Don't. While the Romans "borrowed" the Greek gods, they did a massive PR rebrand on the god of war. To the Romans, Mars was a father of the state. He was virtuous. He was the father of Romulus and Remus. He was a protector of agriculture who transitioned into a protector of the empire.
Ares never had that glow-up. He remained the "curse of men."
If you look at the archaeological record, temples dedicated specifically to Ares are surprisingly rare in Greece compared to those for Zeus or Apollo. He was a god you acknowledged out of fear, not out of civic pride. He was the wild dog you kept in the yard to keep intruders away, but you didn't necessarily want him sitting at the dinner table.
The Company He Kept: Terror and Fear
You can judge a god by his entourage. Ares didn't hang out with the Muses or the Graces. He rode into battle with his sister Eris (Discord) and his sons Phobos (Fear) and Deimos (Panic).
Think about that for a second.
When Ares showed up, he brought the psychological collapse of an army with him. This is where the Ares god of war archetype becomes really interesting for modern psychology. He isn't just about physical violence; he’s about the breakdown of the human mind under extreme stress. He is the personification of PTSD before we had a name for it. He’s the adrenaline spike that makes your hands shake and your vision narrow.
- Phobos: The literal root of the word "phobia."
- Deimos: That feeling of "I need to run right now or I’m going to die."
- Enyo: The "Sacker of Cities" who delighted in the destruction of civilian centers.
This wasn't "heroic" war. This was the grim reality of ancient conflict—burning crops, enslaved populations, and the end of bloodlines.
The Aphrodite Connection: Love and War
The most famous story involving Ares isn't a battle; it's an affair. His relationship with Aphrodite is one of the most enduring tropes in mythology. He’s the hyper-masculine warrior; she’s the goddess of beauty and desire. On the surface, it’s a classic "opposites attract" scenario, but it goes deeper.
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When Hephaestus, Aphrodite’s husband, caught them in that famous invisible golden net, the other gods didn't just feel bad for him—they laughed. They laughed at the absurdity of War being trapped by Craftsmanship.
There’s a lesson there that the Greeks loved: even the most violent force in nature can be snared by the clever and the industrious. Yet, from this union of War and Love came Harmonia (Harmony). It suggests that you can't have a functioning society without both the drive to defend (War) and the drive to connect (Love). You need the friction of Ares to eventually reach a state of balance.
Ares in Modern Media: From God of War to Wonder Woman
Pop culture has done a number on this guy.
In the God of War video game series, Ares is the primary antagonist of the first game. He’s portrayed as a manipulative mastermind trying to create the ultimate warrior to overthrow Zeus. It’s a great narrative, but it’s almost the complete opposite of the mythological Ares, who was usually the one being manipulated or outsmarted. The game version is cool, but he’s basically "Ares with a brain," which mythologically is a bit of a stretch.
Then you have the DC Universe version in Wonder Woman. There, he’s often shown as a shadowy figure behind the scenes, whispering into the ears of generals to spark world wars.
Again, interesting, but the real Ares wouldn't whisper. He’d be the guy in the trenches with a spear, screaming at the top of his lungs. He was a "front-line" deity. The Greeks didn't see him as a strategist in a suit; they saw him as the spear-point.
Spartan Exceptionalism
We have to talk about Sparta. If anyone liked Ares, it was the Spartans, right? Sort of.
While they certainly respected him more than the Athenians did, even the Spartans had a weird relationship with him. There’s a famous statue of Ares in Sparta where he is bound in chains. Why? Because the Spartans didn't want the "spirit of war" to ever leave their city. They wanted to keep that violent energy under lock and key.
They also sacrificed dogs to him—specifically puppies. This was an incredibly rare practice in Greek religion, which usually favored bulls, sheep, or goats. It highlights just how "outside" the norm Ares really was. He required the "unclean" or the "unusual" to be appeased.
The Reality of the Bronze Age Battlefield
To understand why Ares was so terrifying, you have to understand what an actual battle looked like back then. There were no guns. There was no "long-distance" warfare outside of some arrows and stones. It was 50 pounds of bronze pressed against another 50 pounds of bronze.
It was sweaty. It smelled like iron and waste.
Ares was the name the Greeks gave to that specific moment when the line breaks and the stabbing starts. When we talk about the Ares god of war today, we often sanitize it into a "warrior spirit" or "bravery." But the Greeks were more honest. They knew that war was a tragedy. Ares was the god of that tragedy.
He was the "Thracian" god. The Greeks often pointed toward Thrace (the wild lands to the north) as his home because they wanted to believe that this level of mindless violence was something "foreign" and not part of their civilized world. It was a way of distancing themselves from their own capacity for brutality.
Is Ares Relevant in 2026?
You might think a bronze-age deity has no place in a world of cyber-warfare and AI. But look at social media. Look at the way discourse turns into a digital bloodbath in seconds. That’s Ares.
That raw, unthinking rage that bypasses the logical brain (Athena) and goes straight for the jugular? That’s his domain. He’s the personification of the "Amigdala Hijack." Whenever we act on pure, destructive impulse without considering the consequences, we’re basically channeling the least-liked god on Olympus.
How to Actually Use This Knowledge
Understanding Ares isn't just for history buffs. It’s about recognizing the different types of conflict in your own life.
If you're dealing with a legal battle or a business negotiation, you want Athena. You want strategy, cold logic, and a plan. If you bring "Ares energy" to a boardroom, you’re going to lose. You’ll be the guy trapped in the bronze jar while everyone else moves on.
But, if you're in a situation where you need raw survival instinct—say, a high-intensity workout, a literal physical threat, or a moment where you need to break through a massive mental block through sheer force of will—that’s where that archetype fits.
Practical Steps for Navigating "Ares" Moments:
- Identify the "Red Mist": When you feel that surge of hot anger, recognize it for what it is—a primitive survival mechanism. Labeling it "Ares" (or just "impulse") can help you detach from it.
- Seek the Balance: Remember that Ares’ daughter was Harmony. Conflict is often necessary to clear the air, but it should never be the end goal.
- Respect the Danger: Never underestimate how quickly a small "skirmish" (an argument with a partner or coworker) can escalate into a "war." Ares has a way of inviting Phobos and Deimos to the party before you even realize the door is open.
- Embrace the "Thracian" Within: Acknowledge that you have a capacity for aggression. Denying it makes it more likely to explode at the wrong time. If you give that energy a healthy outlet—like contact sports or intense physical labor—it’s less likely to show up when you’re trying to have a civil conversation.
Ares is a reminder that war isn't a game. It isn't a movie. It’s a visceral, terrifying part of the human experience that requires a heavy dose of respect and an even heavier dose of containment. The Greeks didn't hate Ares because they were pacifists; they hated him because they knew exactly what he was capable of. They saw him in the ruins of their cities and the scars on their bodies.
Next time you see a depiction of a "cool" god of war, remember the bronze jar. Remember the screaming on the plains of Troy. Ares isn't a hero. He’s the storm we all hope we never have to sail through.