How to think about war with Thucydides

Part XVI of the Ancient Wisdom for Modern Readers series

[Based on How to Think about War: An Ancient Guide to Foreign Policy, by Thucydides, translated by Johanna Hanink. Full book series here.]

When I was growing up in Italy I studied ancient Greek history. My teachers, unwittingly or not, instilled in me the belief that the Athenians were “the good guys” and the Spartans not so much. After all, Athens was a democracy, and we all agree that democracy is the best form of government, right? Sparta, by contrast, was a militaristic timocracy, that is, it was ruled by a property owning elite. And even Plato (in Republic, book VIII, 545b-550b) lists it as the first form of unjust government.

But then I read Thucydides’s famous History of the Peloponnesian War, and suddenly Athens didn’t look so much as a knight in shining armor anymore. Indeed, it looked like a not-so-subtly imperialist state intent in “exporting” democracy by way of armed conflict. No wonder so many have drawn a parallel between ancient Athens and the modern United States.

In fact, that parallel has been made both by critics and supporters of American imperialism, with both sides invoking Thucydides as their esteemed forerunner. As Johanna Hanink, the translator of How to Think about War for Princeton Press, puts it: “By the mid-1990s (during the Clinton administration) leading Neocon thinkers were arguing that the United States’ post–Cold War international role should be one of benevolent global hegemony. … In a 2003 essay, Irving Kristol, the Godfather of Neoconservatism, even called Thucydides’ History ‘the favorite Neoconservative text on foreign affairs.’”

Current scholarship, however, actually sees Thucydides as a shrewd critic of Athenian imperialism, and having re-read the entire History recently (as part of my research for The Quest for Character), it’s puzzling to me how he could be read any other way. He was elected general by the people of Athens in 424 BCE, but he failed to rescue the besieged allied city of Amphipolis (his reinforcements arrived too late) and was sent into exile. Lucky for us, since that turn of events allowed him the quiet and the time to interview major figures on both sides of the conflict and to write his History.

The Peloponnesian War between two clusters of Greek cities—one aligned with Athens the other with Sparta—saw three major phases of its unfolding. The Archidamian War (after Archidamus II, king and general of Sparta) lasted from 431 to 421 BCE and ended in an indecisive victory for Athens. It was followed by the uneasy peace of Nicias (after the Athenian general who brokered it). The hostilities resumed with the Athenian decision to invade Sicily and the subsequent annihilation of the Athenian army by the Syracusans (415-413 BCE). Finally, the so-called Decelean War, named after a fortification established by the Spartans in direct view of Athens, ended in 404 BCE with the destruction of the Athenian fleet and the surrender of Athens.

Thucydides gives us his considered opinion on all the major events of the war and what motivated them. He tells us that the reason for the start of the conflict was “that Athens had become mighty, which provoked fear in Sparta” (1.23). This notion of wars breaking out when one superpower feels threatened by another one led the American political scientist Graham Allison to coin the phrase “Thucydides Trap” to describe similar situations, and to argue that China and the United States are approaching a similarly dangerous turning point. (His research has been criticized, but his book makes for thought provoking reading.)

We are also told by Thucydides that the turning point of the war was the disastrous Athenian decision—spurred by Alcibiades—to invade Sicily, thus opening a second front that the Athenians could ill afford, especially given the military and economic might of Syracuse.

Thucydides, image from Wikimedia.

The final blow came when the Spartans managed to convince the Persians—normally sworn enemies of all Greek states—to finance their navy, which the brilliant Spartan general Lysander used to defeat the Athenian navy at the Battle of Aegospotami in 405 BCE. Athens never fully recovered from the blow and was eventually taken over first by Alexander the Great and then by the Romans.

The book translated by Hanink represents only a fraction of the full opus by Thucydides. It focuses on a selection of six speeches given by the Athenians at crucial points in the conflict: Pericles’s first war speech; his famous funeral oration (once the first casualties started to come home); his last speech just before he died of the plague that had struck Athens; the debate about whether to commit what we would call genocide against the city of Mytilene on the island of Lesbos; the dialogue with the people of Melos, who were about to be defeated and killed or enslaved en mass; and the debate on whether to launch the Sicilian expedition.

I simply cannot stress enough just how fascinating and full of sobering echoes for the modern reader this material is. Hopefully reading these excerpts will wet your appetite to go on and tackle the full Thucydides. You will not regret it.

The following are some highlights from How to Think about War, with accompanying brief commentaries:

“Avoidance is no longer an option, in case any of you is so afraid of the present circumstances that you think to play the upright citizen by keeping out of all this. You already wield the equivalent of a tyranny; even if you think it was wrong to establish the empire in the first place, letting it go now would be exceptionally dangerous.” (From Pericles’ last speech)

Pericles gave a speech during the summer of 430 BCE, at the height of the plague devastating Athens, of which he will die shortly thereafter. (Thucydides, and Socrates, too contracted the disease, but survived.) Things were going bad for Athens, and his goal was to convince his fellow citizens to stay the course that he himself had established at the beginning of the conflict.

What is astounding here is Pericles’ frank admission that the much vaunted Athenian democracy is actually, when seen from the outside, actually a tyranny. The euphemistically called “allies” of Athens were actually subject states who paid regular tributes to aggrandize Pericles’ city, among many other things by financing the construction of the Parthenon.

“You do not see that your empire is a tyranny that you wield over people who are plotting against you and do not wish to be ruled. … You must also avoid being misled by the three things most destructive to empire: pity, enjoyable speeches, and a concern for leniency. … Otherwise give up the empire and go parade your self-righteousness where there is no real danger involved.” (From Cleon’s speech during the debate about Mytilene)

Cleon was a member of the hawkish party during the war, and in this speech about the fate of the Mytileneans he, like Pericles above, straightforwardly tells the Athenians that they are running a tyranny and that they have to face the unpleasant consequences of such a fact.

Remarkably, he dismisses any talk of pity and leniency toward the defeated, belittling invocations of ethics as not apt to the conduct of an empire. It’s one of the most bluntly realpolitik speeches in the history of western civilization, almost refreshing in its utter ruthlessness.

“I have come here neither to advocate on behalf of the Mytileneans nor to condemn them. The debate, if we are wise, is not about the offense that they committed but about our own best course. … Now, when a rebelling city realizes that it cannot succeed, it still has a chance to come to an agreement with us by assenting to repay our expenditure and pay tribute after that. But if things are otherwise, is it not the case that they will only make better preparations and hold out under siege until the very last, if sooner or later the outcome will be the same?” (From Diodotus’s speech during the debate about Mytilene)

Diodotus is responding to Cleon’s intervention above. But his argument is not rooted in righteousness and moral considerations. It’s eminently pragmatic. Basically, he is telling the Athenians that if they exterminate the Mytileneans this will send a message to future rebellious cities that they can expect no mercy from Athens, so those cities may just as well be prepared to resist to the last man, since they have nothing to lose. This, of course, would make things more difficult for the Athenians to manage. The whole conceit is just as rooted in realpolitik as the speech by Cleon.

Incidentally, the Athenians had voted the day before to annihilate the Mytileneans, and had sent a ship to communicate the orders to their garrison at Mytilene. This debate happened the following day, and resulted in a rescinded vote. A second ship was sent to overtake the first one, and its sailors were promised extra pay if they arrived on time. They did, and the Mytileneans were spared genocide by a matter of minutes.

“People always seek to rule wherever they can. It is in their very nature. We did not establish that principle, nor are we the first to apply it; we merely inherited it and will pass it on to future generations. We also know well that if you or anyone else were in the same position of strength you would be acting in the same way toward us. … Surely you understand that expediency is always the safe course while the path of justice and integrity is fraught with danger.” (From the Athenians’ speech to the Melians)

This bit is yet another example of frank political realism by the Athenians. They are addressing the Melians during the siege of that city. The deal they are proposing is to surrender now or face extermination should they lose the battle.

The Melians appealed to principles of justice and humanity, but the Athenians retorted that this was naive, and that might makes right is a universal principle of human interactions. In the end, the Melians resisted and were wiped out.

The Athenian defeat in Syracuse, by John Steeple Davis, 1900. Image from Wikimedia.

“Athenians, I am the best man to lead this expedition and I also think I deserve to. … The other Greeks had assumed that our city was debilitated by war, but when they saw my splendid showing at Olympia they drew the conclusion that Athens is stronger than it actually is. That is because I entered seven chariots in the races—more than any private citizen in history. I won and also placed second and fourth, and made every effort to put on a display worthy of my victory. … There is, moreover, nothing wrong with elites demanding special treatment. … Why should it bother people if their superiors disdain them?” (From Alcibiades’ speech to encourage the Athenians to launch the Sicilian expedition)

Alcibiades was the Elon Musk of ancient Athens, just as uber-rich, but more handsome. He was also a friend and pupil of Socrates, at least for a while. In fact, it was Socrates that had advised a young Alcibiades not to get into politics because he did not possess the required wisdom. But Alcibiades, from the height of his hubris, ignored his mentor, with dire consequences for himself and Athens.

In this excerpt we clearly see Alcibiades’ narcissism: while he is participating to a debate about whether to send tens of thousands of men to their death the first thing he mentions is his own victory at the Olympic Games, which he attained not in person, but simply because he had enough money to buy a lot of top horses and chariots.

Eventually Alcibiades’ argument carried the day and Athens sent much of its navy to assault Syracuse. Two years later that navy was vanquished, with a loss of 10,000 hoplites, 30,000 oarsmen, and more than 200 ships. It was the beginning of the end for the Athenian empire.

[Next in this series: How to Keep Your Cool with Seneca. Previous installments: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV.]