Historians everywhere owe an incalculable debt to Thucydides of Athens, because of the spirit of rigorous, evidence-based inquiry in which Thucydides set down his history of the Peloponnesian War in which Athens and Sparta fought from 431-404 B.C. Whereas Thucydides’ illustrious predecessor Herodotus sometimes states that an event from antiquity took place because of the intervention of the Olympian gods – “It was the will of Zeus” and all that – Thucydides refuses to settle for deus ex machina explanations. In Thucydides’ system of reasoning, when something goes wrong for Athens, or goes right for Sparta, it is because some power-hungry politician subverted the Athenian democracy, or because some Spartan general made good strategic and tactical decisions. His spirit informs and inspires every modern historian who plies his or her craft in search of the truth.
Few people of his time would have been better suited than Thucydides to write this book, as the historian himself makes clear in Book Five:
“I lived through the whole of it, being of an age to understand what was happening, and I put my mind to the subject so as to get an accurate view of it. It happened, too, that I was banished from my country for twenty years after my command at Amphipolis; I saw what was being done on both sides, particularly on the Peloponnesian side, because of my exile, and this leisure gave me rather exceptional facilities for looking into things.” (p. 364)
That passage well captures Thucydides’ voice – direct, no-nonsense, confident without being arrogant, dedicated to accuracy above all. Just the facts, ma’am.
Book I of Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War sets forth how disagreements over the allegiance of places like Corcyra (modern Corfu) revealed fissures in Athenian-Spartan relations, even though these two leading city-states had been allies in the two Persian Wars decades before. When a Spartan ultimatum is rejected by Athens, the stage is set for the outbreak of a war that will be longer and more costly than either side anticipates.
A highlight of the History of the Peloponnesian War, for many readers, is likely to be the Funeral Oration given by the Athenian leader Pericles at the end of the war’s first year. Pericles’ Funeral Oration pays tribute to the dead soldiers of Athens, to be sure – “[W]hat we ought to remember first is their gallant conduct against the enemy in defense of their native land” (p. 149). Beyond that, however, Pericles also presents a brilliant defense of Athens’ democratic values: “Our constitution is called a democracy because power is in the hands not of a minority but of the whole people….[E]veryone is equal before the law” (p. 145).
Small wonder that Pericles’ Funeral Oration has inspired many leaders on similar occasions in the 2400 years since Thucydides wrote his history – as when U.S. President Abraham Lincoln, asked to deliver “a few appropriate remarks” on the dedication of a national cemetery for Union soldiers killed at the Battle of Gettysburg, consulted Pericles’ Funeral Oration in preparing what has become known to history as the Gettysburg Address.
If only the wise and eloquent Pericles had lived on – the Peloponnesian War might have been much shorter, and its outcome might have been quite different. Unfortunately, however, he died of plague in the war’s second year, and subsequent years were marked by the rise to power of the demagogue Cleon, of whom Thucydides writes that “He was remarkable among the Athenians for the violence of his character, and at this time he exercised far the greatest influence over the people” (p. 212). In stark contrast with Pericles’ expression of rationalism and defense of democratic values in the Funeral Oration, Cleon responds to a revolt by the Athenian-allied city of Mytilene by calling for the killing of all the Mytilenians. While Cleon’s proposal is ultimately defeated, his words provide a chilling reminder of all the subsequent periods of history when demagogues have called for indiscriminate mass violence in hopes of fomenting a “get-tough” spirit against real or perceived enemies.
Indeed, Cleon’s cruelty and incompetence, as chronicled by Thucydides, emphasize a subtle but important theme of the History of the Peloponnesian War: that Thucydides, even though he fought bravely and well on the Athenian side, may have felt that Athens deserved to lose. This theme comes through with special force when one contrasts Cleon’s despicable behavior with that of the Spartan commander Brasidas. A true soldier, Brasidas is courageous in battle, solicitous for the welfare of his men, and generous toward his adversaries. A characteristic example of Brasidas’ soldierly virtues occurs when, just before the Spartan capture of Amphipolis in 423 B.C., Brasidas “put forward very moderate terms, making a proclamation to the effect that all who wished to do so, whether Amphipolitans or Athenians, could remain in the city with possession of their property and full political rights guaranteed to them; and those who did not wish to remain could take their property with them and leave within five days” (p. 328) – a proposal that impresses everyone in the city by its generosity, and one that Brasidas honors in every particular once Amphipolis has surrendered.
Another of the most famous features of the History of the Peloponnesian War is what has come to be known as the Melian Dialogue. Here, Thucydides uses dialogue format to dramatize the Athenians’ surrender demands against the island of Melos, a colony of Sparta that wished to remain neutral in the war. All of us who like to think of Athens as the capital of philosophy and rationalism are likely to be disheartened by the Athenians’ brutal invocation of might-makes-right realpolitik in the dialogue, as when they say to the Melians that “it is a general and necessary law of nature to rule whatever one can….We are merely acting in accordance with it” (pp. 404-05). And when the Melians ask why the Athenians “would not agree to our being neutral, friends instead of enemies, but allies of neither side”, the Athenians implacably reply that “if we were on friendly terms with you, our subjects would regard that as a sign of weakness in us, whereas your hatred is evidence of our power” (p. 402). Perhaps, over the course of writing his history, Thucydides had come to conclude that the side for which he had fought so valiantly had become an empire not worth preserving.
And anyone who has seen his or her country set forth on a poorly planned military venture will be struck by Thucydides’ account of Athens’ ill-fated expedition against the Spartan city-state of Syracuse in Sicily. Begun in 415 B.C., against a background of lavish promises that an attack on Spartan Syracuse would be the proverbial “game-changer,” the Athenian expedition ended two years later as “the most calamitous of defeats; for they were utterly and entirely defeated; their sufferings were on an enormous scale; their losses were, as they say, total” (p. 537).
The story of how the Syracusan campaign went from promise to disaster for the Athenians makes for compelling reading. And it is against the background of the mutual recriminations over Syracuse that one learns about the oligarchic coup of 411 B.C., in which “the democracy in Athens had been brought to an end” (pp. 573-74). No reader who cares about the survival of democracy in the modern world can read about the destruction of the Athenian democracy without feeling a certain chill in the blood.
Helpfully furnished with maps and appendices, this Penguin Books edition of Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War provides the modern reader with an opportunity to get to know a classic historical work that remains strongly applicable to the world of today.