[Laurence Teillet is a PhD Candidate at Nottingham Law School, focusing on environmental activists prosecutions and convictions for piracy. With LLMs in International and Comparative Environmental Law, and Natural Resources Law, her research interests primarily lie in International Environmental Law and the Law of the Sea.]

EPIC: The Musical is a creative reimagining of Homer’s Odyssey by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. The story follows Odysseus as he struggles to return home after leading the Greeks to victory in the Trojan War. Commanding 600 men, Odysseus faces mythical creatures and Gods, confronting dilemmas that test his morals and values.

Traditionally, ancient writers have presented Odysseus as a figure of “outstanding wisdom”. However, through a modern lens – particularly within the framework of international criminal law (ICL) – his actions appear far more troubling. As this article will explore, many of Odysseus’ choices align with behaviours that would now be considered war crimes under the Rome Statute.

To maintain consistency, this analysis will focus exclusively on Rivera-Herrans’ adaptation. While many parts of EPIC would deserve legal analysis, for brevity, I  will highlight four key actions that raise questions: the use of the Trojan Horse as an act of perfidy, the murder of Astyanax, the massacre of sirens during Odysseus’ ruthless transformation, and his decision to sacrifice his mutinous crew to Zeus to save his own life.

The Trojan Horse’s Perfidy

The musical opens with the iconic Trojan Horse scene. After years of war between the Greeks and Trojans, the Greeks conceived a plan under the leadership of Odysseus, the king of Ithaca. They built an enormous wooden horse and hid a select group of soldiers inside. Pretending to abandon the siege, the Greek forces sailed away, leaving the horse as an apparent peace offering. The Trojans, believing the war was over, brought the horse into their city as a symbol of victory. That night, the hidden Greek soldiers emerged, opened the city gates, and allowed the returning Greek army to invade. The Greeks destroyed the city, bringing the war to an end.

At first glance, this might seem like a clever, if ruthless, war tactic. But when examined through the lens of modern ICL, Odysseus’ actions are criminal. The Trojan Horse ruse is a quintessential case of perfidy – the act of gaining the enemy’s trust under false pretences and then using that trust to commit acts of violence.

Perfidy, as defined by Article 8(2)(b)(xi) of the Rome Statute, criminalises “killing or wounding treacherously individuals belonging to the hostile nation or army”. Odysseus’ plot fits this definition with precision. The Greeks didn’t just surprise the Trojans; they leveraged the civilians’ expectation of peace and security – a trust implicit in the act of accepting a gift under the guise of surrender. The very fabric of that trust is what Odysseus weaponised.

Furthermore, the war nexus is undisputed. This event occurs in the context of an international armed conflict (IAC) between Troy and the Greek coalition, specifically Odysseus’ Ithaca. The calculated nature of the deceit is strengthened by Odysseus’ own words, commanding his soldiers to “make the Trojans pay” and asking “does a soldier use a wooden horse to kill sleeping Trojans because he is vile?”. These statements demonstrate not just a military objective but a deliberate intent to exploit Trojan civilians’ mistaken sense of safety, leading to the slaughter of combatants and civilians alike.

In today’s legal framework, such a breach of trust would clearly constitute a war crime.

The Murder of Astyanax             

One of the darkest moments in EPIC comes when Odysseus is confronted with an impossible moral dilemma – kill an innocent child or risk the future destruction of his home. As the siege of Troy rages, Odysseus is struck by a vision from Zeus, the king of the gods, who orders him to Astyanax, the infant son of the crown prince of Troy. Odysseus initially refuses, horrified at the thought of killing a defenceless baby.

But Zeus is unrelenting. The god warns Odysseus that if the boy is spared, he will one day seek revenge and burn Ithaca to the ground. In the musical’s dialogue between Odysseus and Zeus, every alternative solution Odysseus proposes – raising the boy as his own, sending him far away, or erasing his past – is met with a divine counter. Odysseus succumbs to the pressure and drops the infant from a wall.

While this moment is emotionally complex, it is clear from a legal perspective that Odysseus’ actions are nothing short of a war crime. Under ICL and International Humanitarian Law (IHL), the intentional killing of civilians is expressly prohibited. Article 8(2)(b)(i) of the Rome Statute classifies “intentionally directing attacks against the civilian population” as a war crime in IACs, leaving little room for ambiguity.

A potential defence for Odysseus might be duress, as outlined in Article 31(1)(d) of the Rome Statute, which justifies unlawful actions only when they avert an imminent, greater harm. Odysseus may argue that killing Astyanax was necessary to prevent Ithaca’s future destruction. However, duress requires an imminent, inescapable threat, and Astyanax, as a baby, poses no direct or concrete danger. Zeus’ prophecy of future revenge is speculative and cannot justify the present killing of an innocent child. Duress also requires the act to be the only viable solution. Here, killing Astyanax was not necessary, as non-lethal alternatives existed, and Odysseus himself proposed them. His surrender to divine pressure does not eliminate these alternatives. Odysseus’ pre-emptive action is not justified because it addresses speculative harm and disregards other available options.

Even if the threat is framed as Zeus eventually revealing Odysseus’ misdeeds to Astyanax, this is still inadequate. There is no certainty that Astyanax would seek revenge, let alone succeed in such an uncertain and distant campaign. To justify killing based on a series of speculative “ifs” undermines the very foundation of duress under Article 31(1)(d) of the Rome Statute, which requires an imminent danger, as well as a reasonable response, not contingence and speculation.

Sirens and the Status of Hors de Combat                

As Odysseus sails home from the Trojan War, he encounters a group of sirens. Determined not to lose more men, Odysseus orders his crew to fill their ears with beeswax, allowing them to capture the sirens safely. But once the sirens are captured, begging for their lives, Odysseus commands his crew to “cut their tails”, then throw the sirens back into the sea, leaving them to drown – a slow, inevitable death.

In this mythological context, the war nexus becomes less clear. However, one could argue that a non-international armed conflict (NIAC) exists between Odysseus’ Ithaca, representing the human race, and the sirens, a distinct group of non-human combatants.

The sirens’ violence is sustained and consistent within the mythological context. Their repeated and deadly attacks on sailors demonstrate a persistent threat, and their actions go beyond isolated incidents. This level of sustained hostility could be seen as fulfilling one aspect of the NIAC criteria, particularly regarding the intensity and continuity of the violence. Although the notion of “intensity” is not explicitly defined in any treaty, it is indirectly addressed in common Article 3 and Article 1(1) of Additional Protocol II (AP II) to the Geneva Conventions. The concept was later introduced by the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) in the Tadić case. It is also reflected in Article 8(2)(f) of the Rome Statute, which excludes isolated or sporadic acts of violence, and further clarified in Article 8 of the Elements of Crimes, which affirms that NIACs at sea are governed by the same legal framework as those on land.

The sirens’ collective action, where they consistently work together to lure sailors with their enchanting songs, indicates a level of coordination and shared purpose. They also occupied specific areas of the sea, suggesting a defined territorial presence that they defended against intruders. Their method of attack – using their voices to enchant sailors – was systematic and consistent, reflecting an organised approach. While this scenario is not a perfect fit given the mythological context, it does seem quite close to the modern definition of an NIAC.

Given that the conflict may be seen as a NIAC, the relevant legal standard is Article 8(2)(c) of the Rome Statute. This provision explicitly prohibits violence against individuals who are hors de combat – a term referring to combatants who are no longer able to fight due to injury, surrender, or capture. The sirens, once captured and at the mercy of Odysseus’ crew, clearly fall under this category.

Odysseus’ decision to mutilate the sirens before drowning them constitutes not only physical torture but a form of execution that violates all principles of humane treatment. The cutting of their tails – making them unable to swim or escape – is an act of cruelty designed to prolong their suffering. Such actions are expressly forbidden under Article 8(2)(c)(i) of the Rome Statute, which criminalises “murder, mutilation, cruel treatment, and torture” against those who are hors de combat.

In the context of Odysseus and the sirens, the Bemba case offers a relevant parallel. Just as the International Criminal Court initially held Bemba accountable for the actions of his subordinates, including murder and cruel treatment of those hors de combat, Odysseus’ command to mutilate the captured sirens and leave them to drown reflects similar violations. The actions of Odysseus’ crew, under his orders, constitute cruel treatment designed to prolong suffering, akin to the crimes Bemba was initially found guilty of. Although Bemba was acquitted on appeal, it was not because the acts did not constitute war crimes, but rather due to a lack of effective control over the soldiers who committed them.

Mutiny, Piracy, and the Defence of Duress

In a climactic turning point in EPIC, Odysseus finds himself at odds with his own crew. After sacrificing six soldiers to the monster Scylla, his second-in-command, Eurylochus, starts a mutiny.

Here, the mutiny is not just an emotional betrayal – it is a power shift with legal implications. By defying the lawful orders of their commander and rebelling against the king of Ithaca, Eurylochus and the crew cross a line: they become pirates, assuming Odysseus had entered Scylla’s lair with more than one ship.

In modern terms, piracy is defined by the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) as illegal acts of violence committed for private ends on the high seas. Article 102 of UNCLOS is especially relevant here, as it states that acts of piracy committed by a warship – whose crew has mutinied and taken control – are to be treated as piracy carried out by a private vessel. By taking control of Odysseus’ ship, Eurylochus and his followers secede from the official army of Ithaca and engage in acts of piracy. Their actions – attacking, stabbing, and detaining Odysseus – fit the “illegal violence” criterion of piracy under UNCLOS.

After being stabbed unconscious, Odysseus awakens in chains on the island of Helios, the sun god. Meanwhile, Eurylochus and his men, driven by hunger and desperation, commit a grave mistake by slaughtering Helios’ sacred cattle – despite Odysseus’ explicit warnings. This disobedience seals their fate, causing divine revenge. Zeus soon confronts Odysseus with a choice: sacrifice himself to save his mutinous crew or allow them to perish in order to save his own life.

Faced with this dilemma, Odysseus chooses self-preservation. His crew, outraged, charges at him. But before they can strike, Zeus intervenes – striking them down with lightning, therefore enforcing the consequence of Odysseus’ decision. This moment is often presented as the most selfish and morally questionable choice Odysseus makes on his journey. Yet, when viewed through the lens of law, this act of self-preservation becomes potentially justifiable.

From a legal perspective, Odysseus’ choice was not between himself and his men, but between himself and pirates – pirates who had not only abandoned his command but were also ready to kill him. Even if one were to argue that these mutineers, having been captured by Zeus, deserved protection as hors de combat under Article 8(2)(c) of the Rome Statute, Odysseus’ circumstances present a strong case for the defence of duress.

Odysseus’ decision meets the legal criteria for necessity: he faced an immediate and lethal threat from both his mutinous crew and Zeus, and his actions were necessary for his survival.

As Judge Stephen noted in the Erdemović judgment, the choice in such situations is often not between good and evil, but between different degrees of harm. And within the context of international law, Odysseus can be excused – his actions were driven by necessity, not cruelty, making this moment one of the rare instances where his legal defence holds weight. Unlike the earlier case involving Zeus, Odysseus, and Astyanax, where the threat was speculative and distant, here the danger is certain and inescapable. If Odysseus does not act, his death is certain – either at the hands of his crew or by Zeus’ will. There is no ambiguity: the outcome is inevitable, and his decision, in his view, is the only means of averting a greater harm to himself.

It is fascinating to see how heroes of the past, once honoured for their intelligence and bravery, would be viewed in today’s legal framework. The contrast between artistic portrayals of Odysseus and how his actions would be judged under international law is remarkable. When considered with an emotional and narrative approach, Odysseus generates sympathy and admiration; however, when examined in a courtroom, his actions would undeniably be condemned.

This duality shows the importance of symposiums like this one, which explore the nexus between pop culture and international law. These discussions also demonstrate the influence of storytelling on public perception and the way narratives can soften or distort the realities of certain actions.

[I would like to sincerely thank Elise Laithier and my supervisor, Dr. Mark Chadwick, for generously taking the time to review this work and offer their feedback.]