What began as a minor diversion—some idle reading in Greek texts about ancient diet—has become an obsession. I started with curiosity, rereading a few sections in Greek to pass the time in lessons where every half hour was a substitute for five minutes of skimming the relevant textbook. I’ve now read through most of the so-called Corpus Hippocraticum, and I keep coming back to it. There’s something arrestingly sane about the Hippocratic writings.

I come back to them today because, just as term was ending at my school, I was called to a meeting with some stupid hyperventilating woman, who told me I had been denounced again for upsetting the fatties in my class. I made the usual earnest submissions, and was let off with the usual vague warning, but remain in a mood that Sebastian Wang would call uncharitable.

So, back to the Corpus Hippocraticum. The text I have in mind today is Περὶ Διαίτης (On Regimen), which contains some of the earliest surviving medical advice on how to live well. The word “diet” here is misleading. It’s not about weight-loss fads. It’s δίαιτα in the full sense—one’s way of life: food, drink, exercise, sleep, sex, baths, the lot.

The recommendations are, for the most part, deeply reasonable. And they still make sense—more sense, perhaps, than the sort of nonsense you get from the NHS or from the PSHE sessions at my school. Let’s take a few examples.

σώματος κινήσεις αἱ κατὰ φύσιν ἰσχυροποιεῦσι τὸ σῶμα, αἱ δὲ παρὰ φύσιν ἀσθενεῖ τὸ σῶμα.
Movements of the body that are according to nature make the body strong, those against nature weaken it. (Regimen 1.34, Littré VI.534)

This is one of those lines that ought to be carved over the entrance of every gym, especially the ones unvisited by the majority of my schoolmates. It’s also a rebuke to the present idea that all movement is good. No. Movement must be measured, deliberate, and suited to the constitution. Walking, running, wrestling, bathing, rubbing with oil, sexual activity—each is classified by the Hippocratic writer in terms of its heating or cooling effects, its moistening or drying properties. This isn’t pseudoscience. It’s empirical observation written in a poetic key.

Here is another, this time more to do with diet than with exercise, though still applicable to both:

Ἐν παντὶ γὰρ πράγματι μέτρον ἄριστον.
In all things, moderation is best. (Regimen 1.12, Littré VI.490)

Obvious? Yes, it is. All truths are obvious—but only when they’ve been said and when they’ve been explained and defended. The Hippocratic writer does not recommend one diet for all. Instead, he insists that diet must suit the season, the constitution, the age, and the mode of life. His principle is clear:

Ἐπὶ τῇ τροφῇ φυλακτέον, καὶ ἐν τῷ χρόνῳ, καὶ ἐν τῇ ποσότητι, καὶ ἐν τῇ ποιότητι.
In food, one must be careful of the timing, the quantity, and the quality. (Regimen 1.35, Littré VI.536)

This is refreshingly direct. No “eat five a day.” No food pyramids designed by Kellogg’s. Just: eat good food, not too much, at the right time. More striking still is the explicit warning against combinations of opposite foods—mixing hot and cold, for instance—which is said to “confuse the body’s powers and lead to illness.” Again, this is not far off what modern science tells us about digestion and insulin response.

But the most impressive part of Regimen is its detailed breakdown of exercises. Walking, running, jumping, bathing, rubbing, massage, even games with balls are all described with a level of insight unmatched until the twentieth century. Hippocrates understood resistance training. He even anticipated the value of progressive overload:

Ὅσα ἂν κινεῖται ἡ φύσις ἐπὶ πλέον ἢ ἐλάσσον, ἢ σφοδροτέρως ἢ ἠρέμερον, ἀνὰ λόγον ἀσθενέστερον ἢ ἰσχυρότερον γίνεται.
Whenever nature is moved more or less, or more violently or more gently, the body becomes weaker or stronger accordingly. (Regimen 1.11, Littré VI.488)

Here is the fundamental law of physical adaptation: stress, followed by recovery, leads to growth. It’s what Arnold Schwarzenegger said two thousand years later in a more Germanic accent. But Hippocrates got there first.

And it goes further. Baths are not just for cleaning. They’re therapeutic. Rubbing is essential for maintaining tissue elasticity. Exercise is not simply about muscle mass, but about the movement of breath, the stimulation of internal organs, the regulation of mood. That last one is particularly important. The Hippocratic writer understood that a properly trained body is the precondition of a sound mind. Today, everyone quotes Horace, or tries to: mens sana in corpore sano. slogan. In ancient Greece, it was a moral truth:

Ἡ κατὰ φύσιν δίαιτα ὑγιεινὴν ποιεῖ τὴν ψυχὴν.
A regimen according to nature makes the soul healthy. (Regimen 1.32, Littré VI.530)

So why is any of this important? Because it is, and because I am required by my parents to attend a school where most boys’ idea of physical exertion is carrying a bag of chips to the nearest bus stop. They would rather argue about “fatphobia” than admit they’re slowly decomposing in public. The idea that the body is a system in delicate balance—something to be tuned like an instrument rather than stuffed—is entirely foreign to them. Indeed, I’ve seen some of these creatures scratch their unwashed scalps, then lick the grease from their palms. It is revolting. If they spent one-tenth as much time learning Greek as they do Googling cheat codes for online games, they might reach the basic conclusion: if you’re ugly and fat, and your breath smells like a kitchen food bin, the problem is probably you.

Those boys dare to mock me. The teachers call me a “fascist.” They say I’m vain. They say I’m obsessed with ancient and therefore useless things. They say this while their gums bleed and fat compresses their hearts with soft but unrelenting fingers. But the Hippocratic model vindicates everything I have said in PSHE essays and been called to those meetings to discuss with hyperventilating women. There is a duty to be beautiful. Not the catwalk kind—something deeper: an integration of form, function, and discipline. And the ancient texts agree.

So let the others around me wallow. Let them stuff their faces and sneer at the past. I’ll continue with my books and with my workouts. One day, when they are diabetic and bald and talking to a consultant about their trauma, I’ll be quoting Hippocrates while sipping spring water on a beach.

Primary Sources (Greek with English Translations)
Hippocrates. Περὶ Διαίτης (On Regimen). In Œuvres Complètes d’Hippocrate, vol. VI, ed. Émile Littré. Paris: Baillière, 1868.
———. On Regimen. Translated by Paul Potter. Loeb Classical Library, vol. 150. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1988.

Secondary Literature
Jouanna, Jacques. Hippocrates. Translated by M. B. DeBevoise. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999.
Nutton, Vivian. Ancient Medicine. London: Routledge, 2004.
King, Helen. Greek and Roman Medicine. London: Bristol Classical Press, 2001.
van der Eijk, Philip J. Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005.

Related posts:

Why I’m Fat, Fabulous, and Furious: A Response to Bryan’s Ancient-Greek Skinnyboy Delusion The Cholesterol Collapse: Fat, Lies, and the Statin Empire Further Thoughts on Ancient Obesity

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