30 Minutes of Historical Mysteries You Never Heard Of

In the hills of Appalachia lurks a mystery older than the United States itself, an enigmatic group known as the Moon-Eyed People. According to Cherokee folklore, these peculiar beings inhabited the Appalachian Mountains long before Europeans set foot on the continent. They have been described as pale-skinned nocturnal humans who live underground and who have eyes so sensitive they couldn't bear daylight. But who were they, really? Theories vary from ancient Welsh explorers, a forgotten indigenous civilization, to more esoteric claims. The legend of the Moon-Eyed People first emerged through Cherokee oral tradition and reached early settler ears by the 18th century. One of the earliest written accounts dates to 1797 when Benjamin Smith Barton, a scientist, attempted to document these oral traditions. He reported an unusual Cherokee story describing a strange people already living in the area when they arrived. These moon-eyed inhabitants, unable to see clearly by day, were eventually driven away by the Cherokee, who claimed their land. Another striking account came from Cherokee Chief Okonostota, documented by Tennessee's first governor, John Sevier, in 1782. Now notably I should mention that John Sevier generally had hostile relations with the Cherokee and led troops in numerous battles against Cherokee forces. That is to say, he may have been an unreliable narrator, and he may have had alternative reasons for attributing the following to this Cherokee chief. Okonostota vividly described mysterious quote-unquote white people who crossed the ocean long before Europeans officially arrived, leaving behind impressive stone structures. According to this narrative, the Cherokee strategically ambushed the moon-eyed people during a bright full moon, when they couldn't properly see, and eliminated them. Modern theorists have suggested that this early recording of this oral tradition may have been twisted to suit the needs of those who wished to conquer the Cherokee and take their land. Evidence for this is circumstantial, however, it portrays the Cherokee as people who conquered the land from people who sound like they could conceivably be European descendants. Accordingly, this may have been used to shore up the idea that the land wasn't rightfully property of the Cherokee. This effectively reframes the narrative of conquest into the much more palatable idea of a reconquest of rightful lands. Over centuries, speculation about the moon-eyed people's identity has inspired a variety of theories. The most interesting theory points to medieval Welsh explorers led by Prince Madoc, who allegedly sailed to America around 1170, centuries before Columbus. Legends persist of blue-eyed Native Americans speaking an unintelligible tongue, fueling claims that the moon-eyed people were descendants of these lost colonists. At Georgia's Fort Mountain State Park, a plaque proudly attributes an ancient stone wall to Madoc's followers. To some, this has cemented the Welsh narrative, despite the lack of solid archaeological evidence. Others have speculated they're the descendants of Norse colonists from Vinland or Greenland. Despite the Norse actually having been in America prior to Columbus, this theory hasn't attracted much attention. A more historically grounded theory suggests the moon-eyed people were remnants of earlier indigenous cultures, such as the Adena or Hopewell mound builders. Cherokee stories might reflect real memories of encountering ancient civilizations that had previously inhabited Appalachia, constructing mounds and stone forts. Over generations, these encounters evolved into mythic tales of fair-skinned predecessors. Some have speculated that this element where the moon-eyed people are described as looking vaguely European, developed after their arrival on the continent. Interestingly, according to this theory, the Cherokee may have heard about Europeans long prior to actually meeting any, and worked their appearance into a pre-existing myth. Another theory is that the Cherokee references to moon-eyed people described early European miners quote-unquote, living underground, and emerging primarily at night. And when you think about it for a moment, it actually makes a lot of sense. Seeing hunched-over people with unfamiliar hair, eye, and skin colors emerging from the ground at dusk may have been the genesis of this legend. These individuals would have also needed some time to adjust to normal light after a day down in the mine, contributing to the idea that their eyes couldn't handle natural light. Socrates of Athens is one of history's most famous philosophers, yet a debate persists over whether he was a real individual, a literary device, or something in between. To tip my hand a bit, by the end of this portion of the video, you'll at least appreciate my position as to why Socrates was definitely both a real person and a literary device. Unlike other prominent ancient Greek thinkers, Socrates wrote nothing himself. Everything we know of his life and ideas comes second-hand from the works of others, chiefly his students Plato and Xenophon, and the playwright Aristophanes, who satirized him. This lack of direct writings has led some to wonder if Socrates was merely a character created by Aristophanes and taken up by other writers. The majority of scholars firmly believe that Socrates was a genuine historical figure, not a fictional character, and let me show you why. However, somewhat paradoxically, this doesn't really answer the question as to whether Socrates was a literary device or not. The evidence for his existence is substantial. Multiple contemporary sources from the 5th century BC in Athens refer to Socrates as a well-known citizen, and their reports on him have a great degree of commonalities. Plato, Socrates' most famous student, makes Socrates the central character in almost all of his philosophical dialogues. Plato's works Apology, Credo, Phaedo, Symposium, and many others depict Socrates conversing in Athens on ethics, justice, and knowledge. These dialogues include many realistic details of Athenian society, suggesting Plato was writing about a real mentor he knew in youth. Further, these writings included references to real Athenians, who would have had real memories of their interactions with Socrates. Since Plato was distributing his works for an Athenian audience, fabricating stories about controversial conversations that took place could have landed Plato in hot water, so to speak. Xenophon, a soldier and historian, also knew Socrates, and wrote his own memorabilia and Apology of Socrates. His writings recollect Socrates' conversations and character from a more practical viewpoint. The playwright Aristophanes features a character named Socrates in his comedy The Clouds, first performed in 423, while Socrates was alive. This timeline is very important because Plato and Xenophon, both who claimed to have known Socrates, were just children then. Aristophanes also references Socrates in at least two other plays, called The Birds and The Frogs. Historians agree that it's highly unlikely Aristophanes would satirize a non-existent person in front of an Athenian audience that included Socrates' contemporaries. Beyond these three major sources, at least four other comic poets of the time poked fun at Socrates in fragments of their plays. Further, records of Athenian orators indicate that he was mentioned in contemporary speeches. Even Plato's student Aristotle, born 15 years after Socrates' death, refers to Socrates in his writings. Notably, Aristotle distinguished Socrates' ideas from Plato's innovations, though I'll come back to that in a moment. Such widespread mention across different authors is extremely strong proof of Socrates' historical existence beyond what we have for most historical figures of the era. Despite this, a minority of scholars do still maintain that there's a chance he was just a well-established literary device that everyone took to mentioning. All the historical accounts consistently place Socrates in 5th century Athens, interacting with well-known figures. They describe common biographical details for the man. Socrates was the son of a stonemason, served as a hoplite in the Peloponnesian War, and later faced trial and execution in 399 on charges of impiety and corrupting the youth. Even small details of Socrates' personality are well-known. For instance, all the sources universally agree that he was physically strong and robust, despite his intellectual bent. Notably, Socrates' trial is reported by both Plato and Xenophon as a matter of historical record. This famous event, Socrates being sentenced to drink hemlock poison by the Athenian court, couldn't have been invented wholesale without contemporary Athenians objecting. While this could theoretically be referencing the fictional trial of a literary character, the overwhelming evidence suggests otherwise. Of all our sources, Plato provides the most extensive and well-known portrayals of Socrates. Plato was about 20 years old when he became a follower of Socrates, and he knew him until Socrates' passing. In a series of dialogues written over Plato's lifetime, Socrates appears as a conversational protagonist engaging in philosophical debates on a wide range of topics. Plato's writings have largely defined the legacy of Socrates, but they also blur the line between the historical Socrates and Plato's own philosophical ideas. Scholars have long noticed that the character Socrates is not portrayed exactly the same in all of Plato's works. In what are believed to be Plato's earlier dialogues, Socrates is depicted primarily as a questioner. He professes ignorance and focuses on dismantling others' claims in search of truth, famously asserting that he knows only that he knows nothing. These early accounts likely capture aspects of the real Socratic method, the way Socrates actually taught by probing others with questions rather than lecturing. This also potentially aligns with the satirical portrayal of him in Athenian society. Simply put, a lot of people likely found his method of inquiry extremely annoying, though not ineffective. However, in Plato's later dialogues, Socrates' role shifts. He delivers doctrines about metaphysics, politics, and ethics, which go far beyond the skeptical, question-only Socrates of the earlier dialogues. For example, in The Republic, Socrates describes a vision of a utopian society and its laws, a far cry from the Socrates who, in earlier conversations, claimed to have no wisdom of his own. This stark change has led many readers, including ancient ones like Aristotle, to suspect that in the later works, Plato was using Socrates as a mouthpiece for Plato's own philosophical theories. Aristotle, who didn't meet Socrates, explicitly attributes many doctrines Plato put in Socrates' mouth to Plato, not to Socrates, indicating that such ideas were not part of Socrates' original teaching. Also, importantly, Aristotle, in his writings, referred to, quote, the Socrates, which is believed to refer to the actual historical Socrates described in Plato's early writings. When Aristotle is referring to Socrates as a mouthpiece for Plato's personal ideas, he simply refers to him as Socrates, meaning the likely fictionalized version Plato used later. Another window into Socrates' life comes from Xenophon, an Athenian soldier and historian who was also acquainted with the philosopher. Xenophon's depiction of Socrates, however, is quite different from Plato's. Where Plato's Socrates is a probing thinker concerned with abstract virtues, Xenophon's Socrates is a much more practical and even homespun figure. Xenophon met Socrates as a young man, though likely not as early or as often as Plato did. Nevertheless, Xenophon clearly admired Socrates and wrote several works about him. In these writings, Xenophon presents Socrates as a wise, moral, and practical advisor. He often highlights Socrates' common-sense teachings and ethical guidance. For example, Xenophon's Socrates gives concrete advice on topics like managing one's estate and saving money. These are subjects that never appear in Plato's dialogues. This suggests that Xenophon, a farmer and soldier, was inclined to emphasize down-to-earth matters. Xenophon's background as a historian led some early scholars to trust his account of Socrates more than Plato's. Since Xenophon wasn't constructing complex philosophical arguments, it was assumed he might be reporting Socrates' life more straightforwardly. However, modern scholarship is divided on Xenophon's reliability. On one hand, Xenophon writes in a plain, matter-of-fact style and had no obvious philosophical agenda, so he might preserve a genuine side of Socrates that Plato glossed over. On the other hand, Xenophon appears to have no meaningful interest in philosophy beyond appreciating Socrates as a wise mentor. Xenophon, therefore, clearly also doesn't capture the full breadth of who Socrates was as a thinker. The third key source is Aristophanes, who provides a completely different perspective from the stance of both comedy and social satire. Aristophanes was an older contemporary of Socrates and the only source to portray Socrates while he was still alive and in the middle of his career. Aristophanes staged The Clouds, a comedy that lampooned Socrates as a leading figure of newfangled intellectualism in Athens. In The Clouds, Aristophanes portrays Socrates as a ridiculous sophist, essentially a professional crap-disturber who runs a pseudo-school called the Thinkery. The character Socrates is depicted as hanging in a basket, literally up in the air, babbling about nonsense. He teaches young men frivolous and unethical lessons. For instance, he's noted to be teaching them how to make a weaker argument defeat the stronger argument through clever wordplay, and how to avoid paying debts through rhetoric. He also performs absurd natural experiments like measuring how far a flea can jump. This comedic caricature is likely exaggerated for comic effect. But for the satire to actually work, it can't have been a totally off-base characterization of Socrates. And given that he was sentenced to drink hemlock for corrupting the youth about two and a half decades later, there's good reason to think the play had a strong basis in truth. That said, some scholars have suggested that the Socrates presented is an amalgamation of a number of popular philosophers from the period into a single character. Under this theory, Socrates was likely chosen to be the representative figure simply because he had the most interesting personality of them all. Piecing together the real Socrates from these divergent portrayals is challenging, but not impossible, since these accounts contain some commonalities. All sources agree Socrates attracted the attention of Athens' youth and conversed widely. To put it simply, the real Socrates was almost certainly a very charismatic man who strongly threatened the existing social order. He encouraged the youth to question everything they were taught by his elders, which ended up being the death of him, quite literally. Socrates was almost certainly considered eccentric by Athenian standards. The sources concur that he paid little attention to material wealth, appearance, or political ambition. He often strolled around barefoot, wearing shabby clothes, despite being quite well-off. So that brings us back to the initial question, where do we stand on who Socrates actually was, and was he an actual person? All evidence points to the fact that Socrates was almost certainly a very real and prominent citizen that inhabited 5th century Athens. Yet, the real Socrates behind the texts remains elusive, with all our available sources filtering them through their respective understandings of the man. Personally, I trust Xenophon's account most of all, since he didn't have much of an agenda beyond portraying someone he admired in a good light. On the other hand, many of Plato's accounts of Socrates appear to be simply adding him as a literary device to give more weight to an idea Plato likes. Aristophanes' account serves a different, yet important purpose. He provides important corroborating evidence to confirm that Socrates was a well-known Athenian figure. Hey everyone, it's Jimmy here, just reminding you to check out my alternative channel, Lazy Chill Zone, for contemporary crime-related mysteries. Now let's get back to business. Late on February 28th, 1986, Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme left a Stockholm movie theater with his wife Lisbeth, after a spontaneous night out with their son and his girlfriend. Palme had no security detail with him. He had declined a bodyguard that evening, which was not unusual for his private outings. As the couple walked home, a man came up behind them and fired two shots at close range. One bullet struck Palme in the back, fatally severing his carotid artery, and the second narrowly missed Lisbeth. Bystanders rushed to help as the perpetrator fled into the darkness. An ambulance brought Palme to the hospital, but just after midnight he was pronounced dead. The shocking slaying of a national leader on a public street left Sweden in disbelief, and immediately raised the urgent question of who was responsible, and why. Olof Palme was not a typical head of government. He was a charismatic, social-democratic leader, and an outspoken internationalist, who had led Sweden on and off since the 1960s. Palme's candid criticism of the regime in South Africa and his anti-colonial views earned him as many enemies as admirers. At home and abroad, conservatives reviled him, and some even spread rumors he was a secret KGB agent, while others hailed him as a champion of human rights. This divisiveness meant there was no shortage of potential foes. The immediate police response to Palme's attack was plagued by mistakes that would haunt the case. Crucially, officers failed to promptly seal off the crime scene, allowing bystanders to walk through and possibly destroy evidence. Communication breakdowns added to the chaos. For example, an early emergency call about the act was misdirected and never reached police in time. Other basic failures have been noted in the aftermath of the event. For instance, in the critical first hours, the perimeter around the area of the attack wasn't closed, and roadblocks along major arteries were extremely slow to roll out. As days turned to weeks, public confidence in the investigation waned. Under intense pressure to solve the crime, authorities poured seemingly unlimited resources into the hunt. Yet the investigation, led for a time by Stockholm police chief Hans Holmer, became chaotic, focusing on flashy but unproductive tactics while overlooking basic police work. For instance, Holmer held frequent press conferences of questionable value and even deployed military fighter jets to scour the city for the weapon. And no, you don't have to replay that part, fighter jets were out there looking for a figurative needle in a haystack. You would think if they wanted to deploy some airpower for this investigation, helicopters would be a more sensible choice than fighter jets. But hey, that's just my view. Meanwhile, more routine police work suffered. One veteran journalist noted that officers messed up routine tasks and failed to properly follow up on critical evidence in the early days. Perhaps the biggest blow to the case came in 1989, when prosecutors did manage to convict a suspect, only to have the verdict overturned due to serious police errors. One of the earliest and most persistent theories is that Palma was slain by a lone individual acting independently, rather than as part of a wider effort. The chief embodiment of this theory is Creaster Peterson, a petty criminal who became the prime suspect in the late 1980s. Peterson was a local substance user and alcoholic with a history of extreme violence. And I'm not exaggerating here when I say extreme violence. He had already been in prison once for ending another life. In December 1988, nearly three years after the slaying, police arrested him after Palma's widow picked him out of a lineup as the man who committed the act. The following year, Peterson was convicted of the crime, seemingly providing closure to the case. However, the conviction was soon overturned by a higher court. The appeals court ruled that the evidence was insufficient and unreliable. Investigators had never produced the alleged weapon, and Peterson's motive for attacking Palma was unclear, but these were comparatively minor issues. Crucially, police had mishandled the lineup by tipping off Lizbeth Palma that the suspect had a severe drinking problem. Notably, Peterson appeared extremely disheveled while all the other men were well put together in comparison. She chose Peterson explicitly on the basis that he was the one who appeared to have a Notably, after being acquitted, Peterson reportedly boasted to his friends that he actually committed the crime. However, there's no evidence to suggest he did, and all evidence suggests that he was simply an extremely violent individual with a loose connection to reality. Another version of the lone wolf theory gained traction in recent years, focusing on a man who was at the scene but long overlooked as a suspect. Stig Engstrom was among the bystanders on the scene, and he built up something of a media profile in the years following the event. Engstrom openly disliked Palma's left-leaning politics and had significant weapons training from his military service. Decades after the crime, journalists and investigators pieced together inconsistencies in Engstrom's story. Multiple witnesses had described a man fleeing the scene who strongly resembled Engstrom, yet Engstrom himself claimed he stayed and tried to help. He gave statements about his movements that night which did not match known timelines, and he seemed oddly eager to insert himself into the media narrative of the crime. In a dramatic press conference 34 years after Palma's death, the chief prosecutor named Stig Engstrom as the prime suspect and formally closed the investigation. The only reason the case was closed is that Stig had passed away in the year 2000. Officials conceded that there was no direct evidence tying him to the act, but they argued that the accumulated clues pointed to Engstrom and no other suspect. This announcement was met with mixed reactions. While some observers felt the mystery had at last been solved, others criticized the conclusion as speculative and unfulfilling. In viewing the evidence I understand why so many in Sweden were left empty with this announcement. There was no hard evidence whatsoever indicating he actually did it. It looks as though he could have been an individual who just wanted to insert himself into a high-profile police investigation. Anyway, I'll come back to this in a moment after I discuss some of the other theories of the case. Another leading theory stretches far beyond Sweden's borders, pointing the finger at the South African intelligence service. Stunning allegations to this effect emerged in 1996 when a former South African police officer testified in court that his country's security forces were behind Palma's attack. He named a variety of known South African spies and mercenaries as being in on the job. Olaf Palma was a vocal opponent of South Africa's regime. Just a week before his death, he had given a fiery speech condemning their system of governance and declaring it had to be abolished. Swedish investigators flew to South Africa to follow up on these leads. They interviewed witnesses and suspects, but ultimately found no evidence to substantiate any of the claims. The government had fallen by then, and no official records ever tied South African intelligence definitively to the crime. Despite the lack of evidence, a former head of Swedish intelligence went on the record indicating that forces within South African intelligence were his top suspects in the crime. Among the more disturbing theories are those that suggest the act was an inside job carried out or covered up by figures within Sweden's own police or security services. Given the errors in the investigation, some have wondered if malice, and not just incompetence, played a role in the failure to catch the perpetrator. This line of speculation usually points to Palma's domestic enemies. Palma had aroused intense hatred from certain circles in Sweden, including some elements within the police and military due to his liberal policies. Another theory suggests that, as improbable as it may sound, the entire event was simply a random act of violence. Notably Palma was out and about without a security detail, and it's been suggested that the perpetrator may have simply targeted him at random. While this sounds improbable, it's technically a possibility as well. Almost 40 years later, the authorities are no closer to solving the events of February 28th, 1986. Personally I suspect that, due to the police mishandling of the initial investigation, we'll never get a clear resolution to the case. The police announcing that Stig Engström was likely the perp, and then closing out the case, feels to me like an attempt at saving face by the Swedish police. I don't understand how they could say with such certainty that they had enough evidence to close the case based on the evidence they presented publicly. I suspect that if Stig were alive there wouldn't have even been enough evidence to convict him based on the very weak circumstantial case presented.