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Generals and particulars in Thucydides
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Generals and particulars in Thucydides
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INFORMATION TO USERS This manuscript has been reproduced from the microfilm m aster. UMI films the text directly from the original or copy submitted. Thus, som e thesis and dissertation copies are in typewriter face, while others may be from any type of computer printer. The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon th e quality of the copy subm itted. Broken or indistinct print, colored or poor quality illustrations and photographs, print bleedthrough, substandard margins, and improper alignment can adversely affect reproduction. In the unlikely event that the author did not send UM I a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if unauthorized copyright material had to be removed, a note w ill indicate the deletion. Oversize materials (e.g., maps, drawings, charts) are reproduced by sectioning the original, beginning at the upper left-hand com er and continuing from left to right in equal sections with small overlaps. Photographs included in the original manuscript have been reproduced xerographically in this copy. Higher quality 6” x 9” black and white photographic prints are available for any photographs or illustrations appearing in this copy for an additional charge. Contact UM I directly to order. ProQuest Information and Learning 300 North Zeeb Road, Ann Arbor, M l 48106-1346 USA 800-521-0600 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. R ep ro d u ced with p erm issio n o f th e copyrigh t ow n er. Further reproduction prohibited w ithout p erm issio n . Copyright 2000 GENERALS AND PARTICULARS IN THUCYDIDES (Volume I) by Alex Watts-Tobin A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (CLASSICS) August 2000 Alex Watts-Tobin R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. UMI Number: 3041542 Copyright 2000 by Watts-Tobin, Alex All rights reserved. ___ ® UMI UM I Microform 3041542 Copyright 2002 by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights reserved. This microform edition is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code. ProQuest Information and Learning Company 300 North Zeeb Road P.O. Box 1346 Ann Arbor, M l 48106-1346 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY PARK LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90007 This dissertation, written by under the direction of Y l.i* Dissertation Committee, and approved by a U its members, has been presented to and accepted by The Graduate School, in partial fulfillment of re quirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY ' t S l ........................ Chairperson Alex UA-te - Dean of Graduate Studies Date ... December. 18A m 2000 DISSERTATION COMMITTEE /I , A > ±^.&Sssd&x.. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Acknowledgments Every page of what follows bears contains traces of conversations I have had with those mentioned below and with a host of other people. In the introduction I describe my intellectual development and the formation of this project. At this point I would like to mention some people without whom this dissertation could not have been written. David Singleton made me do Classics when I knew I was better at science, and introduced me to an author whose name I routinely have to pronounce three times to friends and acquaintances. Peter Rhodes gave me knowledge and even a modicum of authority on Thucydides. Michael Stokes taught me not to leap to conclusions, and not to pass over that bit about argumentation. Liz Pender showed me that there weren’t as many hoops as I thought in the way of graduate studies stateside. Carolyn Dewald gave me the inspiration to write this work in the first place and through her supervision improved every part of it; those who have seen my past work will notice that she got me to write prose that was fit for human consumption. Tony Boyle taught me to look at the text for inspiration, not to secondary literature, and showed me how to apply philosophical ideas to literary works. Dick Caldwell and Roger Woodard showed me in their teaching how to express complex ideas that are accessible to a general audience, and how to make them rhetorically effective. The USC Classics department and the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Graduate school allowed me the time to grow into the topic. I got a final push over the top from a certain Manchurian Candidate. The experience of writing in the last two summers was made immeasurably more pleasant thanks to the diversions provided by the Ham Fighters, by my brewing guru Frank, and by my climbing partners Tom. Gabe, Sue, and Ed. My parents Richard and Mary-Ann gave me unfailing support, and served occasional plates of whoopass when necessary. In preparing the final draft for presentation I owe a special debt of gratitude to my committee members Carolyn Dewald, Tony Boyle, Tom Scanlon, Brendan Nagle, and to my intrepid editors Phiroze Vasunia, Peter O ’Neill, Dani Widdows. and Courtney Kinney. As a result of their efforts, this dissertation blows far fewer chunks. In the usual fashion, I take responsibility for the ideas in this dissertation. All screwups are my fault. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. iv G e n e r a l s a n d P a r t i c u l a r s i n T h u c y d i d e s Table of Contents Volume I Acknowledgments..................................................................................... ii List of T ables............................................................................................. vi Note on Spelling........................................................................................ vii Abstract...................................................................................................... viii Introduction............................................................................................................... I -43 Chapter One: Thucydides and the Military M ind................................................ 44-157 Part One: Phormion’s Naval Expertise and Focalization...................... 51 Part Two: Demosthenes’ Learning and Verbal Reminiscence.............. S4 Part Three: Demosthenes and Operational Expertise............................. 114 Conclusion................................................................................................... 152 Chapter Two: Mind Games in the Peloponnesian W a r....................................... 15S-2S3 Part One: Authorial and Contemporary Focalizations in 4 .8 1 .............. 174 Part Two: Brasidas’ Dealings with Friends and E nem ies..................... 194 Part Three: Thucydides’ Synthetic Analysis: 4.108 and 4 .8 1 ................ 214 Part Four: Brasidas against Kleon and the theme of V ision.................. 232 Part Five: Thucydides and Psychological Expertise............................... 251 Conclusion................................................................................................... 276 Volume II Chapter Three: Putting Perikles into Practice....................................................... 284-475 Part One: Arguments about Resources and Achievability.................... 305 Part Two: What is Conceivable and What is Achievable...................... 350 Part Three: Perikles.................................................................................... 389 Part Four: General Knowledge................................................................. 433 Conclusion................................................................................................... 470 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. V Conclusion................................................................................................................ 476-485 Bibliography................................................................................................. 486 Abbreviations................................................................................................ 498 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. vi List of Tables Table #1: Demosthenes’ tactics over the course of his career.................. 116 Table #2: The Korinthians’ third speech (Volume I I ) ............................... 320 Table #3: Perikles’ first speech (Volume I I ) ................................................ 321 Tale #4: The Mytilenean speech (Volume I I ) .............................................. 322 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. vii Note on Spelling When using Greek names and transliterations I have used Greek spelling, for instance Perikles and Kleon. The chief exceptions are Thucydides, Syracuse, Sicily, Thrace, Macedonia, and Carthage. In most matters of Greek usage I follow Gomme, except that I use Boiotia where he uses Boeotia. The citizens of Kamarina are called Kamarinaians, those of Mende are called Mendaians, and those of Megara are called Megareans. I capitalize well-known sections of Thucydides’ work such as the Funeral Speech, the Melian Dialogue and the Sicilian Debate, and I also capitalize well-known historical events such as the Peloponnesian War, the Persian War, and the Archidamian War. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. viii Alex Watts-Tobin Dr. Carolyn Dewald ABSTRACT Generals and Particulars in Thucydides This dissertation has two main aims: to explore the types of military intelligence in Thucydides’ History, and to establish a parallelism between those kinds of intelligence and the understanding Thucydides intends the reader to derive from his own work. The cognition of intelligent military actors serves as an important key to Thucydides’ own historical analysis. The intelligent generals use particular situations to gain knowledge which they can apply generally to subsequent events. The dissertation has three chapters. In each chapter I describe one mode of cognition which is exemplified in the thoughts, speeches, and actions of individuals within the text. The three modes of cognition increase in complexity, but are related to each other. Demosthenes represents the first type, “operational expertise.” He knows how to achieve success in land battles of a specific type, and he constructs relatively simple models of the circumstances of battle and of the enemy. Brasidas represents the second type, “psychological expertise.” Brasidas’ expertise covers not just single engagements, but also the various competing constraints of a military campaign. Brasidas understands people’s intentions and goals to a greater extent than Demosthenes, and he knows how to use both friends and R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. enemies in order to achieve his own ends. Perikles represents the third type, “general knowledge.” Perikles applies Demosthenes’ and Brasidas’ modes of analysis in a new way. He devises an Athenian strategy for the war, and he identifies and articulates Athenian goals in the remote future. Perikles’ vision is not necessarily better than Demosthenes’ or Brasidas’ but is applied to more general questions. The main methodology I use is narratology. I look at three main narrative techniques: verbal correspondence, narrative shaping, and focalization. In each chapter I look at various types of pattern in the text that reveal an actor’s characteristic mode of cognition. I argue that Thucydides establishes these modes of reasoning as examples of rational analysis for the reader. Thucydides intends the reader to understand the thought processes of actors at the time, without using later events to judge or explain that action. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 I n t r o d u c t i o n This dissertation explores several distinct types of human intelligence in Thucydides.1 In particular, I look at ways in which characters in the History rationally analyze the future. I argue that these forms of reasoning are linked to Thucydides’ own ideas about historical analysis. The reasoning we find actors in the History doing is set against a military background: most of the narrative deals with military operations and strategic debates, and most of the main actors are military men. Thucydides himself served as general in the war, and evidently used his experiences and his military acquaintances in writing the History. It is a basic tenet of this dissertation that the forms of thinking presented in the History are fundamentally linked to their military context. The narrative shows characters dealing with a variety of questions and problems brought up by the war: for example resources, tactics, strategy, the achievement of aims, strange 1 By “intelligence” I mean normal human intelligence. I do not mean secret information, i.e. what the “I” stands for in MI6 or CIA. I take the concept “intelligence” to cover the various types of intelligence, knowledge, or expertise exhibited by characters in Thucydides. Thucydides often expresses this concept without using particular words like gnome, episteme, xynesis, or dianoia. Consequently, I do not just look for the vocabulary of intelligence in the text. Instead, I look for either explicit or implicit manifestations of intelligence. (Of course, it makes sense to start with explicit references, and then to move on to implicit ones). This study focuses on the way intelligence is applied to military action. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 enemies, and natural forces. In this dissertation I suggest that the intelligent military commanders use forms of reasoning which, when analyzed, help us understand more deeply Thucydides’ own conception of knowledge about events. Many previous scholars have discussed intelligence in Thucydides. Only some of these studies however look at human intelligence in action, and most of these tend to look at the political side of human action. This dissertation has two main aims: to explore the types of military intelligence Thucydides presents in the History, and to establish a parallelism between those kinds of intelligence and the understanding Thucydides intends the reader to derive from his own work. In this dissertation I do not attempt to cover the very large topic of “generalization in Thucydides.” Instead, I study the way intelligent characters, especially generals, use particular situations to gain knowledge which they can apply generally to subsequent events. Although my own focus is rather different, this project builds on the studies by de Romilly 1956 and Connor 1984. By focusing especially on the way characters predict future events, we can gain crucial insights into the nature of intelligence in Thucydides. Specifically, we can establish links between the types of R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 intelligence demonstrated by characters and the intelligent thinking Thucydides expects his readers to use when interpreting the events of the History. Certain privileged actors serve as models for reading the work. In the first chapter I compare the process of reading military narratives with the characters’ own experience of the events represented in the narrative. Thucydides presents to the reader many examples of human thought about events. The majority of these are serious and rational, and Thucydides uses them to explain human actions and decisions. I argue that Thucydides uses narrative techniques to encourage the reader to look at his narrative from the point of view of the actors engaged in the events. Thucydides also expects the reader to be able to pull away from the particular events themselves, and to arrive at more global and generalizing judgments. Thucydides claims at a number of points in the text that he aims to lead the reader to an understanding of the Peloponnesian War and of future events (e.g. 1.22.4, 3.82.2). He also presents certain intelligent characters as ideals; these figures achieve success on the whole by developing a kind of intelligence that operates on two levels: they can comprehend both particular events and general questions. Thucydides’ intelligent generals approach particular circumstances with an expertise derived from other military situations. Thucydides also intends his picture of humans engaged in military operations and military decisions to have meaning for the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 reader outside the context of the Peloponnesian War. A dual focus on the particular and the general seems to underlie the effectiveness of the most successful military professionals in the History. The dissertation is organized into three chapters. In each chapter I set out one mode of cognition which is exemplified in the thoughts, speeches, and actions of individuals within the text. I also identify individuals who may be regarded as paradigms of each type of reasoning. The three modes of cognition increase in complexity, but they are related to each other. The first type, “operational expertise,” is exemplified by Demosthenes. Demosthenes knows how to achieve success in land battles of a specific type, and he constructs relatively simple models of the circumstances of battle, and of the enemy. The second type, “psychological expertise,” has Brasidas as its main exponent. Brasidas’ expertise covers not just single engagements, but also the various competing constraints of a military campaign. Brasidas understands people’s intentions and goals to a greater extent than Demosthenes, and he knows how to use both friends and enemies in order to achieve his own ends. The third type, “general knowledge,” is embodied by Perikles. Perikles applies Demosthenes’ and Brasidas’ modes of analysis in a new way. He devises an R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Athenian strategy for the war, and in doing so he identifies and articulates Athenian goals in the remote future. This is different from what we see Demosthenes and Brasidas doing in two main ways. First, the objects of analysis are different. Demosthenes and Brasidas look at concrete military factors in the situation at hand, while Perikles sees how such factors might apply to many potential battles in the coming war. Perikles’ outlook is in this sense more general than that of Demosthenes and Brasidas.2 Second, Perikles looks further into the future than the others do. Demosthenes looks into the future only as far as the coming battle, and Brasidas looks at the future of his own campaign; Perikles’ analysis however covers a whole war. These two differences do not mean that Perikles’ vision is simply better than Demosthenes’ or Brasidas’. Each level of cognition is identifiably rational in its own right, and I show how each is an important constituent of historical analysis. If we are to understand Thucydides’ own historical thinking about the war, we must understand the thinking of the most intelligent strategists in the narrative. This study uses the cognition of various characters as the key to Thucydides’ own historical analysis. 2 As the three modes of cognition become increasingly complex, they also become more general. General knowledge, which I study in chapter three, is much further removed from particular situations than operational expertise. I show how characters employ it to make predictions about the long term future; they intend those predictions to apply generally to many potential future events. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 Connor 1984:14-18 argues that Thucydides intends the reader to pick up developments in views, judgments, and expectations over the course of the text. One of the most important purposes of my study is to link this type of development with particular types of knowledge. I argue that Thucydides’ narrative reflects the way actors interpret the circumstances confronting them at each moment. This statement applies to individuals with any of these three types of intelligence, and even to those with an inferior level of intelligence. I concentrate on characters’ views of specific situations. I hold that Thucydides attempts to produce what he considers a realistic picture of actors making decisions based on what they know at that moment.3 For example, if an actor chooses a course of action, but subsequent events are thrown off course by a stroke of tyche, or by something that was unpredictable, then Thucydides might not consider that 3 To do this, the historian needs to arrive at judgments about what a character could be expected to know at a particular moment. Rood 1998 doubts the utility of the term “focalization;” however, he frequently uses characters’ point of view at specific moments of the text as indications of their knowledge. He suggests that these views constitute what Thucydides deems necessary for understanding characters’ actions at that time. In my discussion I use a similar technique. However, especially in the third section of chapter two, I draw a line between the representation of a character’s point of view at the time and his level of knowledge. In that section I argue that at 4.108 Thucydides expects characters to remember certain principles learned in the past, although those principles are not mentioned at that point in the text. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. stroke of tyche to be a valid basis forjudging the actor’s original decision.4 The characters’ views depend on their level of knowledge and type of expertise. In each chapter, I show how characters develop and use that particular type of expertise; I also show how that type of intelligence is useful for interpreting Thucydides’ History. My main methodology in this discussion is narratology. Specifically, I look at three narrative techniques which are common in Thucydides: verbal correspondence, narrative shaping, and focalization. Verbal correspondences have been used frequently in recent scholarship on Thucydides. Significant studies which use verbal correspondences in interesting ways include de Romilly 1956, Stahl 1966, Hunter 1973, Schneider 1974, Babut 1981, Macleod 1983, and Connor 1984. Most of these studies concentrate on correspondences within a single episode: usually, between a general’s speech or planning and the events of a battle. Stahl 1973 however shows that this technique can be effectively applied to a wider stretch of text: he uses the whole narrative of books six and seven, the Sicilian narrative, to shed light on the initial speeches given by Nikias and Alkibiades. I build on these approaches in what follows. 4 Decisive instances of tyche occur at 2.91.3 (battle of Naupaktos), 4.30.2 (fire at Pylos), and 7.43.7 (battle on Epipolai). I discuss each of these in chapter one. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. The types of intelligence I study in the three chapters can be seen in patterns running through the narrative.5 These patterns can be detected by the attentive reader, and help define characters intellectually. Patterns may reveal a character’s cognitive qualities or his limitations in terms of military expertise, analytic ability, or information. Unlike some of these earlier scholars, however, I do not treat variations between a character's analysis and specific events as particularly significant. That is to say, I do not treat a close correspondence as in itself a sign of great intelligence, nor do I treat a divergence as a sign of lack of intelligence. Instead, I look at the way these patterns operate in conjunction with other narrative mechanisms. I show how certain verbal correspondences represent intellectual techniques for analyzing events on a general level. Individuals do not use these techniques to predict whole series of events.6 5 One of my arguments in the following discussion is that that verbal correspondences have similar functions for the character and for the reader. Verbal correspondences in the text recall previous episodes for the reader, and at the same time they represent the characters’ experience and memories of previous campaigns. Verbal correspondences do not of course correspond exactly to a single character’s memories. Thucydides may use verbal correspondences to invite comparison between two episodes involving completely different people. However, a general’s expertise and experience does not consist only of his own actions and his own direct memories of events. He would also have learned from others, and so in a way he possesses vicarious memories. 6 The technique of verbal reminiscence may be used to show how Thucydides relates particular events to general considerations. By using verbal reminiscences, Thucydides R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 Various scholars have looked at the way Thucydides shapes his narrative and focus in particular on structures within the text. Lateiner 1975 looks at the Teutiaplos speech, and argues that it illustrates an historically important non-event; Rawlings 1981 fits the whole work into a single hypothetical structure; Babut 1981 uses verbal correspondences to establish a structure for book four; and Connor 1984 explores the constantly shifting and dissolving nature of the structures in Thucydides’ text. I believe that we can detect many structures within the text of Thucydides; however, I do not believe that Thucydides deconstructs every one of them. The “pessimist” critics such as Stahl and Connor are right to emphasize the extent to which people’s expectations are constantly confounded on a particular level. However, Thucydides also shows us how important and necessary it is for people to look for similarities between events, and to build up general ideas from experience. On the level of human experience and intelligence, we can detect consistent patterns throughout the text. juxtaposes analysis and events within a single battle, or between one battle and another, perhaps years apart. This technique is elaborate and pervasive, and allows the historian to suggest a crucial impasse or a possible solution to a problem. These suggestions may reflect a character’s realizations in the field or, more strongly, they may corroborate a character’s judgment. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 10 Focalization is the technique that perhaps requires the most explanation. Genette coined the word “focalization” in order to designate a character’s point of view, in the sense “who sees” rather than “who speaks.” The term has been brought to the attention of most classicists by de Jong’s work on Homer and Euripides and by Winkler’s work on Apuleius.7 Focalization is an especially powerful tool for identifying the thinking and knowledge Thucydides attributes to actors in various types of narrative. It can be applied to direct speeches, to indirect speeches, to the representations of characters’ thoughts, and to individual words which have a special emotive or judgmental quality for certain characters. Thucydides incorporates the views of characters in all of these styles of narrative. The narrative is studded with the thought and speech of characters; Thucydides uses them to represent the workings of characters’ minds. These focalizations are classifiable, and can be used to identify types of intelligence. In many cases, Thucydides privileges a character’s angle of view by adopting that particular 7 There has been a rather long and bitter discussion in scholarly journals between Genette, the “discoverer” of focalization (in Genette 1968), and Bal, the “popularizer” of this notion (in Bal 1985). These two scholars actually have quite different interpretations of the function of focalization within a narrative. Rood 1998:9-13 and 294-6 discusses this debate in some detail, and concludes that the concept of focalization relies on a questionable model of narrative. I agree with his discussion on the whole, and especially with his criticisms of Bal’s model; however, I find focalization a useful tool as I have defined it above. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 11 viewpoint in his narrative. Sometimes Thucydides makes the point especially clear by juxtaposing the insightful vision of one character with the relative ignorance or blindness of another character. So while Thucydides makes relatively few explicit historical judgments in propria persona, he nevertheless makes many implicit judgments by using narrative techniques. Thucydides’ History is full of characters calculating and analyzing current situations in the light of past events. Throughout this dissertation, I look at the way Thucydides presents situations as they appear to characters. Focalization is a powerful tool for identifying intelligent thought by actors. Verbal reminiscences have a diachronic historiographic function in that they encourage the reader to compare and contrast sections of the History that may be widely separated in time. The technique of focalization is synchronic, in the sense that it illustrates a character’s thought processes at a particular moment in time. In my study of focalization in chapter one, I make use of the narratological classifications of de Jong, although I modify them for the purpose of studying Thucydides. De Jong makes a basic tripartite division of narrative into (1) “simple narrator-text,” (2) “complex narrator- text” and (3) “character-text” (direct speech). The first category presents the content of R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 12 the text both in the voice and the point of view (focalization) of the narrator, while the third presents it in the voice and focalization of a character.8 The second category is intermediate between these: the voice belongs to the narrator, but the focalization belongs to the character to a greater or lesser extent. De Jong splits complex narrator- text into two classes according to the kind of focalization employed: they are either (2a) “explicit embedded focalization” or (2b) “implicit embedded focalization.”9 In case (2a), the identity of the focalizer is clearly marked in the text. In case (2b), the narrator does not explicitly identify the focalizer; however, readers who are sensitive to implications in the text will usually agree about the focalizer’s identity. To be sure, sometimes focalization is a matter of interpretation, and requires a supporting 8 In Thucydides, it is not worth while to distinguish the author from the narrator. This is a crucial distinction for fictional works, of course. Thucydides does not tend to use postmodern tricks like presenting himself as an “unreliable narrator.” Thucydides does, however, give his work a postmodern flavor by ending the work mid-sentence. “Pessimist” scholars such as Stahl 1966 and Connor 1984 emphasize the open ended nature of the work. I agree that Thucydides does not express final judgments on the History as a whole; however, I argue that Thucydides may arrive at some final judgments on specific human actions and events. 9 It is worth noting that de Jong’s basic division (1, 2, 3) is a division between types of narrative; however, the division she makes within each category is a division between types of focalization (2a, 2b, 2c). According to de Jong’s schema, if there is any mixture between a character’s and the narrator’s focalization, then that piece of text must be treated as a variety of complex narrator-text. Categories (1) and (3) are relatively pure and straightforward. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 13 argument.1 0 However, cases (2a) and (2b) essentially use a similar effect: the focalizer or viewer is someone other than the narrator. During my own study of focalization in Thucydides, it quickly became clear that we need to add another category (2c) to de Jong’s model of complex narrator-text. This category is “double focalization.” 1 1 In several places, Thucydides gives us a sort of complex narrator-text in which both the character and the narrator are focalizing at the same time. In cases of double focalization, the historian may explicitly identify a character as focalizer, but on an 1 0 Previous discussions of focalization in Thucydides sometimes make the mistake of interpreting characters’ thoughts as implicit embedded focalization, when they are clearly marked as the character’s thoughts by accusative and infinitive/participle constructions. For example, see Homblower 1994:134 cites 6.64.1 as an example of implicit embedded focalization: the generals withdraw their troops out of fear for the Syracusan skirmishers. In the Greek, this fear is represented by the words tons .. . psilous . .. ontas, given in parentheses in the OCT. These words contain an accusative - participle construction representing the commanders’ knowledge. The participle eidotes occurs two lines before. Thucydides uses grammatical constructions to attribute thoughts to a character just as explicitly as he reports a character’s speech. See Connor 1985:6-8 for a similar error. To be sure, the labels “explicit ” and “implicit” are sometimes open to interpretation, and Thucydides sometimes uses multiple layers of grammatical constructions. Nevertheless, I take Thucydides’ use of accusative- infinitive/participle syntax as an explicit indication that he is attributing those ideas to characters. 1 1 De Jong recognizes the existence of double focalization (1987:112, cf. Bal 1985:104- 6). I credit double focalization (2c) to de Jong because she mentions it, although she does not expressly build double focalization into her schema, and does not in my opinion discuss it in enough detail. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. implicit level he presents that focalization as his own as well. Or the reverse may be true: Thucydides might present a focalization as his own, while implying that this focalization is shared by a character. In either case, double focalization is a combination of explicit and implicit focalization: the historian and the character share essentially the same view. The following passage can be used to illustrate how the categories of narrative I set out above apply to Thucydides. Thucydides commonly employs complex narrator- text, as defined above. This means that Thucydides presents his own focalizations in proximity to those of characters. This effect is not exactly quite I have described as double focalization (2c). I use double focalization to mean an exact correspondence between a character’s contemporary view of events and the historian’s retrospective view. This effect happens only rarely and fleetingly in the narrative, as I show in chapter one (cf. 2.84.2, 4.3.2-3, 7.42.3). Far more often Thucydides mixes his own judgments together with characters’ interpretations. This can be seen in following passage, which describes the Spartan reaction to defeat at the battle of Patrai: R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 15 T T E |iT r o u o i 8 e K a i o i A a K E 8 a t p i o v i o i r e p K v r i p c p £ u p ( 3 o u X o u g ETTl r a g v a u g T i n o K p a f r i K a i B p a a i 8 a v K a i A u K O t p p o v a , K sX E U o v T E g a X X r j v u a u p a x t a v (Be X t i c o i r a p a a K E u d ^ E a S a t K a t pin u t t ’ o X i y c o v u e c o v E i p y E a 0 a i r f j g 0 a X a a a r | g . e8 o k e i y a p a u x o l g a X X c o g t e k o \ T T p d o x o v v a u p a x i a g T T E ip a a a p iE v o ig i r o X u g o i r a p a X o y o g eTv o i . Kai ou ToaoUTcp cp o v ro a 9 cbv t o v o u tik o u XEiuEa0ai. yEyEvfjaQai 5e Tiua paXaKiav, ouk avTiTi0EVTEg ttiv ’A0riua(cov ek ttoXXou EpTTEipi'av Tfjg acpETEpag 5i’ oXiyou nEXETrig. opyrj ouu cxtteoteXXov. The Spartans sent Timocrates, Brasidas and Lycophron to Knemos, ordering him to set up another better sea battle, and not to be driven from the seas by a few ships. The defeat seemed incomprehensible to them, especially as they had attempted to fight on sea for the first time, and they did not attribute it to a failing of the fleet so much as the occurrence of some softness; they did not set against their own brief training the long standing naval skill of the Athenians. And so they sent them out in anger. 2.85.1-2, tr. Crawley The last sentence, which seems to sum the passage up, consists of three words. They express the historian’s judgment on the Spartans’ motives; the Spartans sent the three commissioners out in anger after the defeat at Patrai. According to de Jong’s terminology, it should be classified as simple narrator-text (1). This is not to say the judgment is simple: orge is a complex topic in Thucydides, and in this instance the term is explained by the whole of the preceding paragraph. However, the focalization is simple in that it belongs to the narrator and to nobody else. The rest of the paragraph however employs more complex varieties of focalization (2). In the penultimate sentence, we take account of the words edokei autois and oionto as explicit signals of R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 16 the Spartans’ own opinions. This sentence then contains complex narrator-text, and employs explicit embedded focalization (2a). Thucydides is still the narrator, but the Spartans are the focalizers. On closer inspection, however, it becomes clear that the Spartans’ focalization does not cover the whole sentence. It is restricted to two phrases: “the defeat seemed incomprehensible to them,” and “they did not attribute it to a failing of the fleet so much as the occurrence of some softness.” Thucydides pulls away from this focalization, and explicitly gives his own judgments, in the phrases oak antitithetites .. . meletes and alios . . . peirasamenois. These historical or editorial comments explain why the Spartans’ interpretation of the circumstances is in fact incorrect: the Spartans fail to understand the importance of their inexperience in the battle. These comments in themselves count as “simple narrator-text,” since they express the historian’s judgment just as directly as the final sentence does. However these comments are combined with the Spartans’ focalization. The Spartans’ judgments count as explicit embedded focalization, since the historian has marked in the text that they belong to the Spartans and not to himself. Such cases of focalization are quite clear cut, and narratological terminology simply draws attention to an act which is done almost unconsciously in the act of reading. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 7 In the first sentence of this passage, the phrase keleuontes . . . thalasses also contains an example of free indirect discourse.1 2 In terms of focalization, the phrase could be categorized as explicit embedded focalization (2a), because on an explicit level Thucydides appears to be reporting the Spartans’ orders: to fight another battle, and to 1 2 Technically, free indirect discourse or FID is a category of narrative instead of focalization, as it operates on the level of voice (“Who speaks?”) rather than of angle of vision (“Who sees?”). FID often involves using vivid words in the narrative to represent a character’s thoughts, as in this example at 2.85.1. Fowler 1989:45 distinguishes FID from the term “deviant focalization” which means much the same as de Jong’s implicit embedded focalization (2b). Fowler applies the term deviant focalization to cases in which a character’s focalization is obviously different from the narrator’s. Fowler illustrates the effect by reference to pulchram in Vergil’s Aeneid 9.399-401. He argues that pulchram cannot be taken to represent Vergil’s own assessment of the death of Nisus. The word expresses the character’s focalization, he claims, even though it is presented in the narrative as if it were the narrator’s focalization. This example is also an instance of FED. For FID, we only need to establish that the narrator is subsuming the character’s focalization within the text. But for deviant focalization, we must additionally establish that the narrator disagrees with that view. In the first sentence of 2.85.1, the vivid words constitute FID; since they occur in a passage of reported speech, they also count as explicit embedded focalization (2a). In Fowler’s terms, this focalization is also “deviant.” FID often contains implicit embedded focalization; however, it can also appear in accusative-infinitive/participle syntax, where focalization is explicit. De Jong’s analysis of indirect discourse neglects FID (1987:114-ff). More seriously, the example of indirect discourse she gives (Iliad 2.152-3) does not contain any words with strong emotive or judgmental force. As a result, her example does not raise the question of point of view where it is most critical. De Jong treats all indirect discourse as explicit embedded focalization, since indirect discourse is syntactically marked in the Greek. This approach is not sensitive to cases in which emotive vocabulary is embedded in direct or in indirect speech, suggesting several different focalizers at once. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 18 do better next time. However, Thucydides uses especially vivid and emotive words to convey these instructions. Instead of “a better sea battle” and “by a few ships” Thucydides could easily have used less judgmental vocabulary, such as “another sea battle” and “by the Athenians.” In this phrase, then, Thucydides appears to borrow the original characters’ words, beltio and oligon neon, and fit them into an otherwise neutral description of Spartan orders. Thucydides does not explicitly point out that these judgmentally and emotively colored words represent the Spartans’ view, but this point can be inferred securely from the passage. The focalization is not exactly implicit, however, because it occurs in reported speech. When a narrator reports a character’s speech, the narrator is usually responsible for the actual words used in that passage; the character is responsible for the ideas or focalization those words represent. In cases of free indirect discourse, the narrator uses especially vivid words that represent authentically the character’s speech or thought.1 3 In this instance, the words beltio and 1 3 For the sake of clarity I give two more examples: Athenian sailors row slowly on account of their “horrible” mission to kill the population of Mytilene (3.49.4), and defeated Amprakiots prefer to die at the hands of Athenians than “barbarous and detested Amphilochians” (3.112.7). The words in quotation marks represent the thoughts and judgments of characters. The words describe motivations for a particular course of action, or style of action. In each case, the soldiers involved might theoretically describe the situation using exactly those words. The first of these instances contains implicit embedded focalization (2b), since Thucydides does not explicitly point out that he is reporting speech or thought; the second instance contains R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 19 oligon neon represent the Spartans’ original words. Thucydides clearly does not share the Spartans’ view; however, he uses these words to illustrate the Spartan view because he believes that it is an important historical factor and a motive for Spartan action. This passage represents an ongoing Spartan mindset, according to which defeats are explained by malakia.u In the same passage, Thucydides points out alternative explanations, such as inexperience. More importantly, however, he sets up the expectation in the reader that this Spartan mindset will be a significant factor later on. The narratological categories I have set out above have important interpretive consequences. explicit embedded focalization (2a), because Thucydides uses accusative-infinitive syntax to mark the fact that he is reporting the thoughts of characters. u Thucydides’ editorial comments show that the Spartan explanation is incorrect. It seems as if malakia is the only admissible explanation for a Spartan reverse, in the same way as the stock Athenian reaction to a defeat is that the general had been bribed (3.42.3, 3.98.5, 7.48.4). For an Athenian general’s fear of the Athenian assembly after a defeat, see Demosthenes’ fear at 3.98.5, and Nikias’ catastrophic anticipation at 7.48.4. The Spartan reaction bears a resemblance to the psychological phenomenon of projection, only in reverse. Instead of misattributing something away from oneself in order to deny responsibility, they misattribute the defeat towards themselves. The Spartans are quite unwilling to accept the notion that the enemy is actually superior. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 Some narratological analyses rather mechanically sort out pieces of text into various categories of narrative. In itself, this practice achieves very little. In this chapter, I use focalization because it is a powerful tool for discovering what Thucydides considers significant knowledge or thought inside a character’s mind. The most interesting instances of focalization tend to occur in complex narrator-text, because in this case the narrator is not identical with the focalizer. Furthermore, the historian can make use of this type of narrative to make implicit comments about characters, especially on their attitudes and motivations. A focalization may consist of individual words that have a specific judgmental, evaluative, or emotive resonance for identifiable characters.1 5 Study of focalization, then, can help us discover how certain characters use vocabulary, and how the narrator attributes motives to characters’ actions. 1 5 Sensitivity to focalization in characters’ thought allows us to detect implicit judgments, and often shows us how to categorize an utterance. I do not make use of speech act theory in this dissertation. However, it is worth pointing out that these functions correspond to what Searle and Austin call “illocutionary” speech acts. An illocutionary act is a speech act that gives an audience some means of categorizing and understanding the utterance. Some of the English verbs and verb phrases associated with illocutionary acts are: state, assert, describe, warn, remark, comment, command, order, request, criticize, apologize, censure, approve, welcome, promise, express approval, and express regret. Austin claimed that there were over a thousand such expressions in English. Searle 1971:39 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 I concentrate on focalization in particular in the first two chapters. In the first chapter I use it mostly to distinguish the thoughts of characters from Thucydides’ own judgments in the narrative. But in the second chapter I place more emphasis on the relations between the views of participants in the narrative. In my discussion of psychological expertise, I point out the way Brasidas interacts with other people: that is, the relation between speaker and audience. De Jong’s discussion and model of narrative does not cover this topic. So in the second chapter, I break down focalization into three levels. These three levels of focalization can conveniently be expressed as (FI), (F2), and (F3).1 6 Level (FI) is straightforward; it is the historian’ s view, overtly expressed or When a speaker does any of these acts successfully, that speaker makes the audience understand that he (or she) is doing them. That understanding constitutes an illocutionary act. 1 6 Bal discusses levels of focalization (1985:110-4), but uses the idea to distinguish cases in which characters view other characters’ action. I use levels of focalization to distinguish the relation between one characters’ words and another character’s thoughts. In many cases, there is a crucial difference between the speaker’s meaning and his audience’s understanding. My levels of focalization recognize a rather different kind of distinction from the schema of de Jong which I set out above; however, it is broadly similar. De Jong’s categories are fundamentally based on types of narrative, on “who speaks.” Her categories includes anything that is said, thought, or seen by the narrator or characters. In drawing up my schema, I concentrate specifically on judgments and analysis, so that R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. strongly implied in the text. It may incorporate thoughts or even speeches of characters. In focalization level (FI), all the words are Thucydides’ own. In my discussion of the Brasidas narrative, I concentrate on focalization levels (F2) and (F3). These concern the focalization of characters.1 7 Level (F2) refers to cases in which a character expresses his own view. In some cases outside of direct speech, the character is responsible for the verbal expression of his thoughts: for instance in cases of FED, or in lengthy indirect speeches. Both of these cases count as focalization level (F2). Focalization level (F3), however, refers to an audience’s reaction to those ideas. Many of the speeches in Thucydides, and even many of the indirect speeches, are successful in persuading an I can specify differences between the historian’s views and a character’s views. My level (FI) corresponds to de Jong’s “narrator-text” (1), except that I tend to ignore objective and factual reporting of events, and focus on opinions and views. My levels (F2) and (F3) obviously refer to characters’ views. They could be expressed in direct speech (de Jong’s category 3), in indirect speech (2a), or in implicit embedded focalization (2b). The distinction between levels (F2) and (F3) also recognizes who is responsible for certain individual words in a given passage; theoretically, it could be the narrator (FI), the speaker (F2), or the audience (F3). 1 7 There are narratological reasons why I divide the levels of focalization into (FI), (F2), and (F3) in this way, rather than a division such as (FI), (F2a), (F2b): the latter schema would bring out the distinction between the character’s focalizations (F2), and the historian’s. The classification I use takes account of the fact that there are focalizations of other focalizations within the narrative: that is to say, the historian can have a focalization (FI) about a character’s view (F2 or F3) in the same way as a character can have a focalization (F2) about his own or another character’s focalization (F3). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 audience. To be sure, audience members may have additional concerns and views of their own. Nevertheless, if an audience is persuaded by a particular speaker’s description of a situation, then we can say that they adopt the speaker’s ideas about that particular topic. I make use of this distinction particularly in chapter two. The third chapter focuses on direct speeches in particular; however, the type of cognition I identify in those speeches can be detected in different situations and with different audiences. For this reason, in chapter three I concentrate more on types of argument than on delineating focalization. I do use a similar methodology for each of the three chapters, but in each case I adapt it to study a different type of military expertise and judgment. In chapter one I study operational expertise, a type of intelligence which is demonstrated by Demosthenes and Phormion. These characters are masters in one type of warfare: Demosthenes in light armed land warfare, Phormion in naval warfare. Each, at his best, knows exactly what to do when confronted with a certain set of military circumstances. While Phormion is introduced in the narrative as an expert, Demosthenes is presented in stages of knowledge: learning his craft from defeat, using it with great success, and attempting to reapply it in Sicily, with tragic consequences. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 Both can be regarded as paradigms of the effective military commander. The first chapter argues that by presenting operational expertise in action Thucydides shows the reader how to read military narratives; the reader learns how to read and understand the actions and events in the narrative, just as Demosthenes leams how to operate effectively in Akamania and Pylos. In the first part of the chapter, I discuss operational expertise in Phormion’s campaigns against the Spartans and Korinthians in the Korinthian Gulf. This narrative includes two battles, Patrai and Naupaktos; between them the commander of each force gives a speech discussing both the last battle and the next one. I argue that while Phormion seems to be completely in control in the battle of Patrai, he is much less in control of the battle at Naupaktos; nevertheless, both of these battles demonstrate operational expertise at work. This type of cognition does not necessarily allow the general to foresee a complex sequence of events, such as a coming battle; it allows him to look hard at the situation and find solutions which lesser commanders cannot see. I show how Thucydides’ technique of double focalization (de Jong’s category 2c) privileges his vision over that of others. In the second part, I look at the way Demosthenes leams from the Aitolian disaster, and builds up a kind of expertise that is R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 well suited to the conditions in Akamania. He learns how to use light armed troops in hilly, bushy terrain, and how to use local people for their knowledge of terrain and dialect. Thucydides represents particular tactics by using verbal correspondences, not only between Demosthenes’ analysis and the eventual battle, but also between one battle and another. In the third section, I use these verbal correspondences to draw up a table of the characteristic strategies of Demosthenes; he appears to use very similar tactics throughout his whole career, from Aitolia, Amprakia, and Pylos through to Sicily. This table shows the reader that knowledge and experience is related to patterns of thought. These patterns work together with double focalization (2c in de Jong’s schema) and narrative structures to privilege the intelligent general’s expertise. This type of intelligence works in the situation the commander Finds in front of him: acts of tyche may influence the results of battles, but they do not affect the general’s level of intelligence. In the night battle on Epipolai, Demosthenes uses just the same tactics that worked for him many times in the past. Operational expertise does not produce guaranteed results, nor does it allow characters to look far into the future. Verbal correspondences from one campaign to another represent a commander’s understanding over time, between various sets of circumstances. They also represent the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 6 reader’s memory of previous narratives. The commander must recognize how these patterns apply in specific conditions. Similarly, in order to understand the History properly, the reader must pick out essential elements from the narrative, and detect functional similarities between one historical situation and another. Thucydides claims at 1.22.4 that the History will be useful to his readers, because similar phenomena wili recur in the future. The intelligent commanders in the History show how to recognize similarities between one situation and another, and how to build these insights into a system of knowledge about events. Chapter two studies psychological expertise, and uses Brasidas as a paradigm of it. However in the last part of the chapter I show how Alkibiades, Hermokrates, Gylippos, and Phrynichos also demonstrate elements of this type of cognition. Psychological expertise is grounded in, but more complex than, the operational expertise described above. The most important difference lies in the object of analysis. Brasidas recognizes tactical categories similar to those used by Demosthenes and Phormion, but he recognizes an additional set of categories based on the motivations for human action. His main insight is that one can understand human action, and to an extent predict it, by identifying people’s intentions and goals. Brasidas uses this type of R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 knowledge to form a strategy for a whole campaign. Each of the exponents of psychological expertise is able to understand other people, by assuming that human action is goal oriented. Since numerous individuals use psychological expertise in various circumstances, Thucydides suggests that this form of rationality is useful throughout the war, and that the reader can understand it and apply it to other periods of history. Thucydides structures the Brasidas narrative around a series of choices made by northern states to revolt from Athens. In the first four sections of the chapter, I focus on Thucydides’ presentation of Brasidas’ ability to influence these choices. I argue that Brasidas is consistently successful because he understands the sorts of things which motivate other people to action, and because he can choose the right course of action for himself on the basis of this knowledge. By focusing on focalization, and in particular on the levels of focalization set out above (FI, F2, F3 in my schema), we can define the thoughts and knowledge of characters at a given moment within the text. Every time Brasidas interacts with other people, Thucydides gives him a broader view of the present circumstances than the other characters have. He appears to have superior knowledge both about enemies, such as Kleon, Demosthenes, and Perdikkas, and about R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 8 potential friends, such as the Akanthians and the Skionaians. Focalization in the text shows how Brasidas creates views for other people, and controls the way they see him. This technique reaches its apogee in the final battle against Kleon outside Amphipolis. Thucydides uses Brasidas’ consistent ability to read other people to show the reader how to infer people’s intentions from an analysis of circumstances. In sections one and three, I discuss Thucydides’ own judgments on the expedition, as they are expressed in chapters 4.81 and 4.108. In these passages, Thucydides evaluates the views and decisions of various actors in the context of the whole campaign. Thucydides reaches his own judgments and interpretations by characterizing the views of various participants in the narrative. In section three I argue that Thucydides uses the paradigm of Brasidas’ psychological expertise to deveLop expectations about human action and decision in these judgmental passages, especially 4.108. Thucydides does not expect characters to predict subsequent events on the whole, but he does expect characters to foretell the consequences of their own action if those consequences are likely and predictable at the time. Thucydides believes that successful strategic decision making should be rational, and should contain a realistic assessment of the different human interests likely to be affected by that decision. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 9 Brasidas regularly does this, while many of the northern cities do not. Thucydides shows in the Brasidas narrative that only the most intelligent actors can come up with accurate expectations about other people, and that only they can use this knowledge to take effective action in particular circumstances. In the fifth section I examine the expertise of Alkibiades, Hermokrates, Gylippos, and Phrynichos. By comparing the reasoning of various intelligent individuals, we can see the patterns of analysis which constitute psychological expertise. Brasidas understands the importance of the goal of freedom for each of the northern states; Alkibiades understands how each state needs security during the Peace of Nikias, and pursues unexpected and unstable alliances as a result; and Phrynichos realizes that oligarchy in Athens will not fit the interests of the Persian King or the Athenian allies. Each of these analyses predicts people’s likely action by studying how the current circumstances fit people’s interests, or at least people’s view of their interests. Intelligent characters are therefore able to use psychological expertise to reinterpret contemporary events, and to challenge common assumptions. They can also adapt their views to new circumstances. Psychological expertise is a perfectly realistic form of knowledge, and does not give characters complete access to other people’s R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 thinking. Instead, its practitioners make use of people’s ideas about their own interests, and can manipulate those views to fit their own ends. Thucydides does not believe that human intelligence is pushed aside in the course of the war. It remains both practical and necessary for success, even in the complex circumstances of book eight. The overarching purpose of this chapter is to demonstrate a parallelism between the cognition of commanders like Brasidas and Thucydides’ own historical analysis. Both Thucydides and his intelligent characters assume that human action is systematic and therefore intellectually accessible, in particular because it is goal oriented. I argue that psychological expertise underlies some of Thucydides’ own historical judgments on human actions and decisions. Thucydides makes these judgments explicit to the reader because he intends the reader to look at the interests lying behind human actions and choices in the History. In chapter three I explore general knowledge, which is the broadest and most general type of expertise. The key to this type of cognition is the ability to make a successful intellectual bridge between specific, short term predictions and broad, long term predictions. Only Perikles and Hermokrates are able to do this. Many characters in R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 31 the History tackle large questions concerning the distant future. The most obvious example of such a question is the decision to go to war. On many occasions, Thucydides uses a speech to illustrate a state’s or a governing body’s decision to go to war. I use the various speeches for war as the main material for this chapter. When characters argue that it is necessary to go to war, they know that the decision they advocate will have far reaching and long term consequences. However, they cannot know exactly how the events will turn out. In these speeches, they try to analyze the distant future on a general level. These arguments for war have two main analytic components: arguments about achievability and arguments about goals. These components to an extent resemble operational expertise and psychological expertise. A group of speakers I call warmongers advance arguments for war in these terms; however, they use these techniques to study the distant future.1 8 The achievability arguments are made up of concrete military factors like Demosthenes’ strategies, but the warmongers apply them not to a single upcoming engagement but to many potential engagements. Warmongers also study human goals and intentions like Brasidas; however, they focus on a whole state’s goal as it relates to the war, rather than on 1 8 Blainey 1973 uses the word “warmongers” to refer to political leaders who are eager to go to war for whatever reason. I use the term to refer specifically to Thucydidean R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 2 understanding human action in specific circumstances. These two modes of argumentation are presented concurrently in numerous speeches for war; I argue that Thucydides presents Perikles as a supreme intellect because he meshes these two argumentative components most convincingly. In the first section of chapter three I focus on achievability arguments. I take three speeches, the first speech of Perikles, the Korinthian speech at 1.120-24, and the Mytilenean speech at 3.9-14, as paradigms of warmongers’ speeches. Each of these speakers produces demonstrations of military capability, and outlines what is achievable given the current circumstances. I present tables to show how each speaker analyzes the current situation in terms of strengths and weaknesses for his state, relative to the enemy’s strengths and weaknesses. The tables emphasize the similarities between these various cases for war, even though they are given in different circumstances and to different audiences. Perikles is a representative of one of the main powers, Athens, and he speaks to its governing body, the Athenian assembly; the Korinthians are major Peloponnesian allies, and they speak to the allied congress at Sparta; the Mytileneans are autonomous members of the Athenian empire, and ask the Spartans and their allies characters who give speeches recommending war. I show that many of these speeches R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 3 to support their revolt in a congress at Olympia. Each argument for war has to apply on a particular level, and has to respect the different circumstances surrounding each decision for war. However, the tables show that each speaker analyzes these particular decisions in a similar way. Each warmonger has a firm grasp of the potential of his own side relative to the enemy’s. These speeches do not merely explain an immediate practical decision: they illustrate how events are differently viewed at a moment in time, and show what is visible to each speaker at that stage of the war. On the level of achievability arguments, each of the speeches turns out to be coherent and sound, and conforms to a model of analysis about present circumstances. Perikles’ arguments about military capability, praised by many scholars, form part of a complex web of human rationality within the work. But logistical planning and arguments for achievability represent only a part of the analysis in warmongers' speeches. In the second section, I show how the warmongers draw a consistent and profound distinction between achievability arguments and arguments about goals. These speeches maintain a consistent division between what is present and what is future, and between what is foreseeable and what is not foreseeable. Warmongers consistently treat share identifiable features, and that the speakers often share characteristic concerns. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 claims about military capability (or achievability) as present and visible, while they treat war aims and the good things associated with victory as future and invisible. Much of the data within a given speech, then, serves two separate arguments: an argument of achievability and an argument about goals. In section three I discuss Perikles, and look in particular at the way he articulates Athenian goals. Perikles uses both himself and the Athenian dead as examples of individuals pursuing collective goods (2.60.5, 2.42.4). But he shows how any citizen of Athens can contribute in his own way to Athens’ long term goals. Perikles argues that Athens can achieve victory if the citizens pursue the war with a sense of purpose. Since he respects the distinction between achievability arguments and arguments about goals, he does not claim that Athens will win the war. But Perikles does show the Athenians how they can go about achieving victory by using both military skill and psychological techniques. Perikles’ plan for the war is more powerful than any other speaker’s plan because it presents goals in achievable terms. In the Funeral Speech, Perikles associates individual values with civic values, and presents his vision of an ideal Athens as an ongoing project for his audience. All speeches by warmongers emphasize civic goals; however, Perikles relates those goals to individual effort and achievement. In addition, R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Perikles consistently illustrates the psychological nature of Athenian power; he uses this demonstration both to argue that war is necessary and to mark out Athenian goals. Perikles uses these arguments to bridge the gap between achievability and goals. He shows that it is necessary to focus only on Athenian goals, and to dismiss every single consideration that does not contribute towards those goals. Perikles styles himself after that ideal, and shows the other citizens how to contribute to it. A rigorous focus on Athenian goals can minimize unpredictable elements such as tyche. Perikles does not pretend to foretell the course of events, but sets out a rational and coherent strategy for Athens. This strategy is not static, but must in the future be adapted to the circumstances. Far more than other warmongers, Perikles demonstrates general knowledge. In the fourth section of this chapter I look at general knowledge itself: I compare Perikles’ brand of general knowledge with that of Hermokrates, and I use similarities between Perikles’ arguments and the Melian Dialogue to show how Perikles’ analysis of circumstances at the beginning of the war still applies years later. The wider argument of this chapter is that through the figures of Perikles and Hermokrates, Thucydides presents general knowledge to the reader as a prospective form of historical R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 analysis. He shows the reader how to use achievability and goals in order to approach the future intellectually. Speakers with general knowledge show what parts of the future are intellectually accessible at that moment in time. Achievability arguments function somewhat like paradigmatic events (e.g. the naval battles of Phormion, the Melian Dialogue), in that they represent ongoing human confidence in a specific form of achievement. These ideas must be modified to remain present and applicable throughout the course of the war. Arguments about goals represent human purposes, and they may stay the same for a long time. Even if people cannot exactly predict the future course of events, they can understand the ongoing human intentions and purposes that shape it. Thucydides’ presentation of Perikles indicates that we should not use immediate consequences as a means of interpreting and evaluating human analysis. Our approach needs to be more subtle. I suggest that Thucydides’ own evaluations of characters’ points of view are themselves focalized, in the sense that he bears in mind what is knowable and appropriate for that speaker at that time. Perikles and other intelligent individuals produce analyses which are sound given the limits of human knowledge. Like the intelligent characters in the History, we should strive to recover the specific interests and goals that shape human action. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 This study has been inspired by two main trends in current scholarship on Thucydides, and I believe it forms a constructive response to them. The first, used by de Romilly 1956 and Stahl 1973, is the method of comparing analysis and action, or speeches and course of events. This approach compares Thucydides’ presentation of specific events and facts in the narrative with a character’s prospective analysis of them, and asks to what extent this analysis is accurate. These scholars rightly emphasize that our understanding of the text derives from the interaction of Thucydides’ narrative and the views of characters. A second trend in Thucydidean criticism, represented most notably by Macleod 1983 and Connor 1984, looks at Thucydides’ judgment on a more global scale. Macleod’s studies of speeches in Thucydides revolve around the theme of the “failure of analysis.” He argues, first, that frequently speeches are not believed, and thus words do no good; and second, he argues that Thucydides frequently presents speeches with a view to unmasking the speaker, by exposing his limited or self- interested view of events. Connor’s “ironic” approach is similar. He argues that Thucydides intends the reader to bring his or her knowledge about the war to the text {ibid. 1984:36 n.36). In this way, we can read Perikles’ speeches in the light of Athens’ defeat, or Brasidas’ arguments at Akanthos in the light of later Spartan imperialism. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 These studies are also of considerable value, particularly in their emphasis on the essentially retrospective nature of Thucydides’ historical judgment. However, both of these approaches tend to use subsequent events to identify Thucydides’ judgment on characters’ analysis. They put excessive emphasis on the question whether or not subsequent events validate the anticipations of characters. Connor makes similar assumptions to those of Stahl and Macleod when he argues that Thucydides’ standpoint is ironic: he argues that Thucydides intends us to use our knowledge of the large scale results to assess characters’ actions. Stahl and Macleod in particular make Thucydides expect his intelligent characters to foretell the future. But the most intelligent characters in the History make many predictions that are “wrong” in that sense. Accuracy in predicting events is not the only standard forjudging characters’ analysis. I suggest that Thucydides is not primarily interested in judging human analysis on the basis of specific correspondences between that analysis and events. Many of the speeches or predictions by characters have value in themselves in that they illustrate a form of human thinking at a given time within the course of events. In this study I have chosen to look at the focus of analysis which Thucydides himself finds most interesting, military judgment. Thucydides pays most attention to characters who possess greater R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 military expertise, and he makes clear that they achieved their successes because of that expertise, even though it does not allow them to predict sequences of events. Thucydides’ History is full of characters calculating and analyzing a present situation in the light of past events. Throughout this dissertation, I look at the way individual characters use general principles to interpret particular circumstances. My study suggests ultimately that there is a profound correspondence between Thucydides’ own historical views and the analysis of intelligent actors. Privileged actors not only act as paradigms of intelligent thought, but they also attempt to predict the driving force behind the current course of events. Characters do not, on the whole, try to predict specific events in the future. But they attempt to predict the factors which will influence events in the future. Thucydides himself makes similar claims about his own History: he does not specify what things will recur in the future, but he maintains that an accurate knowledge of events will be useful. This knowledge does not just cover specific events, but it also identifies general patterns of analysis that lead to understanding. The intelligent characters within the History contribute to a web of human rationality running throughout the work. Each of them attempts, however imperfectly, to use rationality to comprehend historical events. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 David Singleton at Lancaster Royal Grammar School introduced me to Thucydides. He currently works as one of Her Majesty’s Inspectors: I believe he is the only one specializing in secondary school Classics departments. He said many things which made me think for a long time afterwards; one of them was “Thucydides is an oligarch.” I was troubled at the time, because I was learning about the Athenian democratic system and about the way Perikles operated within it. Later I became more familiar with the whole text, and I could see some evidence for that conclusion, such as the statement at 8.97.2; however I could not explain away the many passages which seemed to count against it. In the conclusion of this dissertation I suggest a possible answer to that problem by linking it to Perikles’ trust in the Athenian assembly. At Durham University, I thought I was going to turn into a philosopher. My quest for a true philosopher turned into something like Socrates’ search for a man wiser than himself. In an Aristotle class, John Moles told us to speak to Michael Stokes if we wanted a “real” philosopher. Michael Stokes became my main mentor at Durham, but nevertheless told me to see Patrick Fitzpatrick in the Philosophy department if I wanted some real philosophy. Professor Fitzpatrick in turn denied that he was a real philosopher. However, under the supervision of professors Stokes and Fitzpatrick, I wrote a R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 41 successful undergraduate thesis on Plato’s Charmides. I came to USC and was introduced to a host of new authors and methodological approaches. Tony Boyle, Carolyn Dewald, Amy Richlin, and Richard Caldwell had a particularly profound effect on my intellectual development. In a graduate seminar in the fall of 1993, Carolyn Dewald showed me new ways of using the historical knowledge I had built up. For that body of knowledge, I thank particularly Peter Rhodes at Durham for a comprehensive set of lectures and seminars on Greek history and on Thucydides in particular. My project has benefited enormously from reading which is strictly speaking outside the discipline of Classics. There are excellent works on Greek warfare by scholars such as Hanson, Pritchett, Lazenby, and Morrison & Coates. However I have also learned much from works on other types of warfare: Sun Tzu offers principles which can be applied to many types of war other than ancient Chinese warfare; Keegan uses technical discussions of Agincourt, Waterloo, and the Somme in order to reconstruct the soldiers’ experiences in those battles; Luttwak has helped me define such terms as strategy and tactics for myself, and has provided illuminating discussions of twentieth century warfare. In the field of International Relations Thucydides still exerts a great influence, as Strauss, Cogan, Forde, and Orwin testify. My dissertation R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 also bears a considerable debt to works on modem political science and the philosophy of law. In particular, the works of Blainey, Luttwak, Hofstadter, Hart & Honore. and Feinberg have shaped my thinking about the whole dissertation, and not just in the places where I have cited them. Among recent works on Greek politics, I have found particularly valuable the work of de Ste. Croix, Ober, and Loraux. My understanding of the subject has also benefited from reading about recent politics, such as the civil rights movement, the student movement, and the feminist movement of the late sixties and early seventies. I have been interested for some time in recovering images, ideas, and people’s recollections from this period in history. I was bom in 1969, and in a sense I was formed intellectually at that time. The dissertation is a somewhat more ambitious attempt to think myself back to a time 2400 years before I was bom. Veyne, Hayden White, Mink, and Momigliano have written very valuable studies on the theory of historiography. I have learned about narratology from Genette, Bal, and Chatman, but I have adapted their ideas for my own use. Homblower 1994, 1996 and Rood 1998 have done invaluable work on narratology and Thucydides; unfortunately, Rood’s book became available too late for me to take full account of it in this dissertation. Since this study focuses on Thucydides, it naturally pays a heavy debt R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 to the monumental commentaries by Gomme and Homblower. In addition to the modem scholarly works I have discussed earlier in the introduction, I would like to acknowledge the works on economy and administration by Finley, Rhodes, and Cohen. Finally, I would like to mention five smaller studies, in which I find new things whenever I pick them up. These are Solmsen 1971, Parry 1972, Dewald 1985, Crane 1992, and Sheets 1994. These papers have inspired me, and could certainly inspire others. I happen to think the greatest interpreter ever of Thucydides was Adam Parry, who died on a motorcycle in Colmar before writing a work he intended to entitle "The Mind of Thucydides.” Many subsequent works on Thucydides appear to be attempts at that project, but in my view only Parry had the breadth of vision and the depth of feeling to do it justice. My dissertation is not another attempt at that project. In what follows, I simply aim to recover some of Thucydides’ ideas about human knowledge and vision. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 C h a p t e r O n e : T h u c y d i d e s a n d t h e M i l i t a r y M in d From a speech by Phormion: As to the battle, it shall not be, if I can help it, in the strait, nor will I sail in there at all; seeing that in a contest between a number of clumsily managed vessels and a small, fast, well-handled squadron, want of sea room is an undoubted disadvantage. One cannot run down an enemy properly without having a sight of him a good way off, nor can one retire at need when pressed; one can neither break the line nor return upon his rear, the proper tactics for a fast sailor; but the naval action necessarily becomes a land one, in which numbers must decide the matter. For all this I will provide as far as can be. Do you stay at your posts by your ships, and be sharp at catching the word of command, the more so as we are observing one another from so short a distance; and in action think order and silence all important— qualities useful in war generally, and in naval engagements in particular— ; and behave before the enemy in a manner worthy of your past exploits. The issues you will Fight for are great— to destroy the naval hopes of the Peloponnesians or to bring nearer to the Athenians their fears for the sea. And I may once more remind you that you have defeated most of them already; and beaten men do not face a danger twice with the same determination. 2.89.8-11, tr. Crawley The Spartan reaction to Pylos: Nothing that happened in the war surprised the Hellenes so much as this. It was the opinion that no force or famine could make the Lacedaemonians give up their arms, but that they would fight on as they could, and die with them in their hands; indeed people could scarcely believe that those who had surrendered were of the same stuff as the fallen; and an Athenian ally, who some time after insultingly asked one of the prisoners from the island if those that R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 had fallen were men of honour, received for answer that the atrciktos- -that is, the arrow— would be worth a great deal if it could tell men of honour from the rest; in allusion to the fact that the killed were those whom the stones and the arrows happened to hit. 4.40.1-2, tr. Crawley Thucydides was a military man, and his History is a military history. The types of intelligence I investigate in this chapter and throughout the study as a whole are fundamentally linked to the work’s military setting. This chapter focuses on a specific type of military reasoning, which I call “operational expertise.” Operational expertise emerges in Thucydides’ battle narratives, and especially in those concerning Demosthenes and Phormion. It is a specific type of military intelligence, which allows the skilled general to gain advantages in a particular battle. Accordingly, the material in this chapter mostly concerns specific battle situations. Towards the end of the chapter I broaden the focus somewhat, and point out how this type of cognition could be applied outside those specific situations. In the following chapters, I discuss more complex and generalized modes of cognition, whose application beyond specific battles will be readily apparent. However, I argue that all those three types of cognition can be traced back to military reasoning. A general uses different types of analysis when planning a battle, when constructing a campaign, or when planning a whole war. However, all these types of reasoning are fundamentally military in nature. I start with the simplest R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 and most specific type, operational expertise, because it is easiest to see how the military circumstances bring about the characteristic features of this type of cognition. One of the arguments that runs throughout the whole dissertation is that Thucydides has constructed his narrative in such a way as to give the reader a form of education in military intelligence. In this chapter I restrict this claim, and show how Thucydides has constructed his battle narratives so as to highlight operational expertise. I argue that Thucydides gives an extremely detailed narrative presentation of the campaigns of certain individuals, including Phormion and Demosthenes, in order to show the reader how these individuals think about events. These generals are the main exponents of operational expertise in Thucydides. The main material for this chapter consists of the battles involving Phormion and Demosthenes. I argue that these battle narratives are of particular value to Thucydides because they illustrate what can be achieved by the power of human reasoning. Human motivation and analysis form an essential part of Thucydides’ battle narratives. Though rational analysis does not accurately predict sequences of events, Thucydides does believe rational analysis plays a large part in shaping events. The most R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 intelligent characters tend to change the course of events most often. This chapter focuses on the presentation of generals’ mental qualities: their ability to learn from experience, to assess a complex of competing factors, and to come up with crucial insights in specific battle situations. This ability constitutes what I call “operational expertise.” I do not believe that this type of cognition has a “key,” which can be expressed in a single sentence. Instead, I point out numerous indications of operational expertise in the text; it should be made clear that those signs do not actually constitute operational expertise in themselves. Operational expertise is a technique employed by intelligent commanders in specific situations, and it is tied to particular circumstances. It defies general explanation. As is well known, Demosthenes in particular has many failures as well as successes as a commander. A recent monograph argues that the historical Demosthenes was not only relatively unsuccessful, but also that he was not particularly intelligent or groundbreaking either.11 show in this chapter that according to Thucydides’ account 1 Roisman 1993. This monograph is valuable as a corrective to the surprisingly common judgment among Thucydides scholars that Demosthenes was one of the most brilliant, influential, and original commanders in the history of Greek warfare (e.g. Woodcock 1928, Treu 1956, Best 1969). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 8 Demosthenes does learn throughout the narrative, and that he eventually becomes an expert in a specific type of warfare. However, even that expertise, when practiced by a general at the peak of his form, does not guarantee success. The “pessimist school” of Thucydidean critics, headed by Stahl 1966 and continued by Connor 1984, uses this observation to point out how often, and how thoroughly, men’s plans go awry in Thucydides. In this chapter, I suggest another interpretation: that Demosthenes and other expert generals are on the whole more successful because of that expertise, even though on specific occasions that expertise does them no good. The campaigns of Phormion and Demosthenes provide the best access to Thucydides’ ideas about the military mind. By the end of this chapter, I will make a connection between the general’s understanding of military matters and the type of understanding Thucydides intends his readers to apply to the text. I suggest that Thucydides encourages his readers to look at the battle narratives in the same way as he presents good generals, like Demosthenes and Phormion, looking at events. Thucydides presents information about motivation through the interaction of prebattle analysis and R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 9 speech by commanders to the battle narratives themselves.2 This approach has interesting implications for the historian’s retrospective analysis of events. Thucydides uses narrative technique to make the reader compare one engagement with another. This chapter has three main sections. In the first, I discuss the naval battles of Phormion in the Gulf of Korinth, paying special attention to Thucydides’ technique of focalization. In the second section, I look at the way Demosthenes acquires his particular brand of military expertise in his first campaigns in the Northwest of Greece. I focus mainly on verbal reminiscence in that discussion. In the third section, I look more broadly at Demosthenes’ career, and compare him with other generals including 2 De Romilly 1956:107-179 gives a groundbreaking analysis of military episodes, concentrating on specific correspondences between the narrative and generals’ analysis (either before the fact or after it). I am much indebted to her discussion; in what follows, though, I discuss other narrative techniques such as focalization, and I reach somewhat different conclusions. Connor also contains particularly valuable discussions of Thucydides’ battle narratives, particularly in his footnotes (see especially 1984:98 n.44, 110 n.6, 127 n.43, 128 n.45, 129 n.49). Connor regards the battle narratives as instances of a discrete style of narrative, which he calls “commander narrative.” He characterizes commander narrative as follows: ‘The introduction of this kind of narrative often marks a change to greater detail both in the reporting of events and in the exploration of the strategy or the motives behind them” (1984:54-55). Connor finds other kinds of narrative in Thucydides, such as “day-to-day” and “civic” narrative (1984:233). This view is compatible with the one I expound in this study. However, I believe that the battle narratives exhibit fundamental principles of human reasoning, which can also be seen in other parts of the History. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 0 Phormion. The first two sections concentrate on the way narrative techniques contribute to our understanding of Thucydides’ campaign narratives. I argue that Thucydides uses focalization to contrast the insights of intelligent characters with the ignorance of ordinary commanders. It is easiest to start with Phormion first, because he comes into the text as a fully formed naval expert. By contrast, Demosthenes learns his craft as he goes, and the narrative reflects this learning process. Verbal reminiscences represent experience for the general and for the reader. Together they suggest how the intelligent characters are able to find vital clues in particular situations. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 51 Part One: Phormion’s Naval Expertise and Focalization All commanders in Thucydides, however intelligent or stupid, know that various factors can affect the outcome of a battle. These factors include, but are not limited to, the state and type of armament, the number of men, natural conditions, preparation, action in battle, chance events, and troop morale. In the course of his History, Thucydides depicts all of these factors playing decisive roles in battles. While every general knows that these factors exist, they do not necessarily know how they will play out in a coming battle. Even if the general has extensive experience of past engagements, he may have quite misguided notions of the way these factors interconnect. I argue in this chapter that commanders with operational expertise have a better sense of this interconnection between complex factors. In the speeches that punctuate the Phormion narrative, both sets of commanders analyze past events according to their own point of view, and build an argument about future events using the factors mentioned above. In many ways, Phormion’s analysis turns out to be just as wrong as that of the Peloponnesians. Yet Phormion is able to achieve success despite factors he cannot ultimately control. He provides an excellent example of operational expertise in action. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 2 Phormion’s first engagement in the text is the battle of Patrai (2.83-84). Here, Phormion makes a case for Athenian naval superiority, fighting with twenty ships against forty-seven Korinthian ships. The narrative makes clear that numbers are not as important as other factors, in particular, the type of ships. Most of the Korinthian ships are stratiotikoteron paraskeuasmenoi, or equipped as transports, and are fighting against triremes (2.83.3). This means that they cannot possibly outrun the enemy, but are forced into a defensive position.3 They form a ring with the prows facing outwards, keeping the Five fastest ships ready to sail out and fend off attacks/ In the battle, Phormion is completely in control; not only does he force them to fight, but to fight quite on his terms: in the open sea and in the morning, when he can use the wind to make the enemy especially vulnerable to a periplous. He gains an emphatic victory. 3 Thucydides says that the Korinthians do not think that their forty-seven ships will be attacked by the twenty Athenian ships (2.83.3). Westlake comments: “It was reasonable to expect that the Athenian fleet of twenty ships would shrink from an engagement with their fleet of forty-seven” (1968:46). This assessment ignores the nature of the fleet, and the Korinthians’ attempts to evade the Athenians (2.83.3). More likely, the words ouk oiomenoi (“did not think”) refers to a mere hope rather than a sound expectation. The distinction is important in many contexts: for example the word elpize at 2.84.2 refers to Phormion’s confident expectation, rather than a mere hope. * The words arista pleousas strongly imply that forty-two of the ships were transports (probably converted triremes), and only five were triremes. Though the transports had a small escort, both their design and carrying load affected their speed. On the inferiority of transports see Gomme HCT 2:217. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 3 This apparently simple episode becomes somewhat more complex when we look at the techniques employed in its narrative presentation. Questions of narrative technique bring out the significance of elements both within an event and outside it. Internally, narrative presentation might suggest why an event turned out as it did, while externally it might suggest the significance of the event in the context of a larger campaign, or, indeed, the whole work. In the whole Phormion narrative (2.S3-92) we can see at work three narrative techniques in particular: focalization, verbal reminiscence, and narrative shaping. I have discussed these techniques in the introduction to the dissertation. The Phormion episode has been much discussed in scholarly literature on Thucydides. De Romilly 1956:138-150 discusses it in her chapter on battle narratives in Thucydides. This analysis has proved one of the most influential discussions ever of a particular episode in Thucydides.5 She focuses mostly on verbal reminiscence, which is 5 Stahl 1966 gives another very influential reading of this episode. According to the traditional labels used by Thucydides critics (e.g. Connor 1977), Stahl gives a “pessimist” reading, while de Romilly gives an “optimist” reading. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 4 the second of the narrative techniques I study in this chapter. However, she looks at a particular kind of verbal reminiscence, namely the correspondence between planning and events within a battle narrative. The main function of such correspondences, de Romilly argues, is to show human intelligence, or gnome, in charge of events.6 She uses the Patrai narrative to exemplify Thucydides’ presentation of battles. The narrative starts with a standard discussion of the disposition and strategy of the Peloponnesians and Athenians in turn. Mention of Athenian strategy leads to an account of the general’s expectations: oi 5 ’ ’ASqvaloi KaTa p iav vauv TETaypevoi ttepiettAeov auToug kukAco kcci £uvfjyov E g oA iyov, ev XP^P otlei TrapaTrAsovTEg kcu 5 6 tcr|aiv TrapdxovTEg aCm'ica E {i(3aAETv- irpoEipriTO 5 ’ auxolg utto Oopiiicovog up ETTixeipew trpiv av auxog ar)|af|vq. pAtti^e yap auTcbv ou heveTv rr|V r d £ iv , coottep ev y q tte^tiv. aAAa ^uuTTEaElaSai Trpog aAAqAag Tag vaug Kai Ta TrAoIa T ap axq v TrapE^ElV, E l t ’ E K T T V E U aE lE V E K TOU KoAlTOU TO TTVEUpa, OTTEp dvauEvcov te ttepiettAei Kai e1 co0ei yi'yvEaSai etti Tqv eco, ouSsva X povov fjouxdaEiv auToug- <a\ Tqv ETrixeipncnv ecp’ eou tco t e Evopi^EV Elvai, oTTOTav ( 3ouAr|Tai, tcov vecov apEtvov ttAeouocov. Kai t o t e KaAAiaTTiv yiyvEO0ai. cog 5e t o te TtvEupa KaiT|Ei Kai ai vfjEg ev oAiycp q8r| o u a a i utt’ apcpoTEpcov, to u t e dvEpou tcov te ttAoicov. a p a TTpoaKEipsvcov era p a o o o v ro . The Athenians, formed in line, sailed round and round them, and forced them to contract their circle, by continually brushing past and making as 6 Internal verbal reminiscences show how a general’s planning becomes reality. This relatively simple correspondence lends battle narratives something of a paradigmatic quality, which I discuss below. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 5 though they would attack at once, having been previously cautioned by Phormion not to do so till he gave the signal. His hope was that the Peloponnesians would not retain their order like a force on shore, but that the ships would fall foul of one another and the small craft cause confusion; and if the wind should blow from the gulf (in expectation of which he kept sailing round them, and which usually rose towards morning), they would not, he felt sure, remain steady an instant. He also thought that it rested with him to attack when he pleased, as his ships were better sailors, and that an attack timed by the coming of the wind would tell best. When the wind came down, the enemy's ships were now in a narrow space, and what with the wind and the small craft dashing against them, at once fell into confusion. 2.84. 1-3, tr. Crawley This passage contains some very tight correspondences between planning and events. The two sentences fjA ttire . . . y ( y v E O 0 a i present the general’s planning, and the subsequent narrative clearly shows that Phormion’s planning comes true. Thucydides implies heavily that Phormion’s elpis connotes confident expectation rather than mere hope.7 It is important to recognize that the correspondences do not just cover concrete 7 See Huart 1968:334-6. Sometimes in Thucydides the word elpis means blind, unfounded hope, but by no means always. We see it used in this sense, for instance, in the description of the Spartan generals’ expectations about blocking the inlets to the harbor at Pylos (4.8.4), the Amprakiots’ offer to Sparta at (2.80.1), and (ambiguously) the reaction of Demosthenes (2.97.2). But this passage is clearly a locus classicus for the other brand of elpis, of intelligent, confident expectation based on an accurate account of the conditions. Thucydides often in fact uses the verb elpizo interchangeably with nomizo (Huart 1968:263-272). Phormion’s tactical analysis here illustrates that the well applied power of reason can on occasion seem as inevitable as a force of nature. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 6 and tangible actions. They also cover the conditions of the battle. For example, Phormion has chosen open water in order to give his own ships room for maneuver; in the event, the battle takes place in open water. Phormion is not concerned here with making the events correspond precisely with his expectations, but with making his own strategic decisions control events. Thucydides however presents this point as a contributory factor to the Athenian victory. The main reason for the victory, to Thucydides’ mind, is the morning wind which throws the Korinthians into confusion.8 Phormion factors the wind into his calculations too. Thucydides’ narrative draws attention to the general’s ability to harness natural forces in the execution of a strategy. Verbal correspondences help establish the general’s expertise. De Romilly’s verbal correspondences suggest confidence in planning, perhaps more vividly than any explicit statement about Phormion's confidence.9 In particular, 8 This is a notable example of a general who correctly takes into account forces of nature. Normally, forces of nature tend to work against the plans of generals. See below notes 23 and 32 on to para logon and tyche. 9 The tight correspondence of planning to events in the Patrai battle gives the narrative a neat, coherent shape. Narrative shaping is the third narrative technique I study in this chapter. In her discussion of battle narratives in Thucydides, de Romilly broadens her perspective to include all land battles as well. She shows how later battles have more or less the same structure of presentation; for instance the engagements at Olpai, Pylos, R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 7 she suggests the power of Phormion’s rational planning by noting the repetition of flvayKota0r|aav . . . avayK a^ovT ai (2.83.1,4).1 0 The Peloponnesians seem unable to avoid battle, and unable to avoid disaster when they are in it. On the other hand, de Romilly is not saying that Thucydides actually considers these events inevitable.1 1 Events could certainly have turned out otherwise. Nevertheless, the events seem inevitable to the enemy, since the Spartans do not have intellectual access to the Athenian general’s planning. The verbal correspondences make a point about focalization. Thucydides’ narrative technique shows clearly how analysis of events is Poteidaia, Mantinea, Plataia and Amphipolis. The verbal correspondences between planning and events turn out to be tightest in the first three cases, which are masterminded by the two generals under discussion in this chapter. It seems, then, that de Romilly’s claims about Thucydides’ “characteristic” presentation of battles tends to depend on expert generalship by intelligent characters. 1 0 Ostwald 1988 discusses this instance of anagke under the heading “manipulated anagke" (1989:44 & n.54). Ostwald points out that this is a somewhat rare instance of a general appearing to have complete control of events. So much so that Phormion can “compel” the Peloponnesians into fighting a battle under conditions of his choosing (2.83.1,4), and yet tell his own men later that they were not “compelled” to fight at all (2.89.6,8). 1 1 De Romilly comments that Phormion is not dealing in absolute certainties in his planning, but probabilities, which are signaled in the words qAm^e . . . a v a p E v c o v . . . evoui^ev. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 8 predicated on individuals. Different people can interpret an event differently, even while it is going on before their eyes. In the introduction I presented a version of de Jong’s categories of focalization: (2a) refers to explicit embedded focalization, (2b) refers to implicit embedded focalization, and (2c) refers to double focalization. These categories can be illustrated by reference to Phormion’s planning. The two sentences fjAttire . . . yi'yveo0ai are in accusative-infinitive syntax; this is a sign of explicit embedded focalization (2a). The historian presents the general’s analysis in indirect discourse as if they were spoken words. Thucydides seems to revert to objective narrative, from his own point of view, with the words cos • • • ETccpaaaovTO. This section describes the bare facts of the battle: the wind blowing, the constriction of space, and the resulting confusion. Thucydides does not need to expand on the causal connections between these events, for the account of the general’s reasoning has just included his prediction of the wind, the likely consequences for the Peloponnesian ships, and the expected result. So the content of the explicit embedded focalization takes on an essential role in explaining the narrative which follows. In other words, the general’s analysis temporarily takes over the narrator’s function. This is an instance of double focalization (2c). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 5 9 The following sentences contain another kind of double focalization. Instead of having the character implicitly step into the narrator’s shoes, as in the previous example, now the narrator steps into the character’s shoes. After the ships clash into each other, Thucydides gives a vivid description of confusion and panic among the inexperienced Peloponnesians. Phormion has predicted this result: ou peveTv . . . Ta$ vaug. Furthermore, the narrative continues by describing the general’s signal for attack at the kairos, the critical moment. His choice of the moment for action depends upon his view of the chaos among the enemy. This use of kairos, then, entails that the narrator’s view and his own view coincide. In de Jong’s terminology, on the surface we have simple narrator-text, but on closer inspection we find complex narrator-text employing double focalization (2c). In the previous example, what appears to be explicit embedded focalization implicitly carries the narrator’s focalization as well. In the second case, the narrator’s focalization is explicit, and the character’s is implicit. But the effect of both cases is essentially the same. The general's analysis briefly takes over the narrator's function. Thucydides does not permit most actors to take over his narrative in this way. Double focalization is thus a sign of the intelligent, rational analysis of certain privileged actors. Thucydides, in his role as historian, is interested in coming to correct R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 0 conclusions about past events. He appears to favor the point of view of characters who make correct assessments of conditions at the time, and who make correct choices about courses of action. If we simply attribute the victory at Patrai to the Athenians’ advantage in naval technique and their superior generalship, we would miss most of the episode’s significance.1 2 Many factors that are peculiar to this battle explain why the Athenians win on this particular occasion. These particular factors include: the slowness of the Korinthian fleet, the open water, the wind, the Athenians’ speed, the periplous maneuver that constricts the ships, and the difficulty of holding a formation without interfering with one another. While each of these factors could theoretically hold on other occasions, Thucydides makes clear that they play a special role in the battle of Patrai. Phormion’s focalization incorporates these specific factors, and shows how they work together in this particular situation. The Patrai narrative functions as a paradigm 1 2 This naval battle proves correct Perikles’ claim about the long standing dominance of Athenian sea power (1.142.6-9). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 1 within the work. It fixes people’s expectations about Athenian naval superiority, and explains why the Peloponnesians are reluctant to fight naval battles against Athens.1 3 There are very good historical reasons why certain battles remain as paradigms. In a broad survey of strategy, Luttwak 1987:18-65 shows that military innovations, whether tactical or technological, only have a brief window of usefulness. Eventually, 1 3 De Romilly suggests that the Patrai narrative forms a paradigm which all subsequent sea battles come close to emulating but never quite match. There are certain similarities and differences between the Patrai narrative and the later battle narratives (see e.g. 3.77- 79, 7.34-6). In the first of these, Nikostratos and 12 Athenian ships come to the aid of the Kerkyraians against a Peloponnesian fleet. After the Athenians attack one wing of the enemy, the latter form a circle of ships. At this point in the narrative (3.78.2), there is an explicit reference to the battle of Patrai, to the expectation and danger of another Athenian periplous. However, this time the Peloponnesians have kept some ships in reserve to break up the Athenian attack. The battle could easily have been essentially similar to Patrai, and it would likely have had exactly the same result. Fifteen years after Patrai Thucydides points out that the Syracusans’ technological innovations derive precisely from the experience of Korinthians in these battles in the Korinthian gulf (7.36.2). The innovations are designed to counteract the two characteristic Athenian naval maneuvers, the periplous and the diekplous, and Thucydides notes how the small size of the harbor was not conducive to Athenian naval skills. The enemy is constantly concerned to take away from the Athenians this weapon which they showed at Patrai. Indeed, these two episodes provide the only references in the rest of the work to periplein or periplous in the specifically tactical sense of the term (3.78.2, 7.36.3, 8.4.1). (Periplein is, however, used many times to express circumnavigation of an island or landmass). Diekplous too is only mentioned negatively after this campaign: in his speech before the next engagement (2.89.8), Phormion denies the effectiveness of the diekplous in the Korinthian gulf, just as it is later denied in the harbor at Syracuse (7.36.4, 7.70.4, 8.4.1). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 2 the enemy finds a way to circumvent them in order to avoid repeating past defeats. Because war is fought against human opponents, strategy has a paradoxical and ever changing nature. A rational commander will not voluntarily go into battle in circumstances exactly corresponding to those in which he has already lost. To be sure, Greek warfare does not change as fast as modem warfare. However, in the following battle off Naupaktos, the Spartans do try to alter the circumstances to prevent a repetition of the defeat at Patrai.1 4 In the battle off Naupaktos, the bare number of forces implies a change in circumstances. The Spartans now outnumber the Athenians 77 to 20. The discrepancy in numbers also gives the Spartans a measure of freedom: it allows them to force the Athenians to fight in the gulf, rather than in the open water. As the Athenians seem to forget at Syracuse, constricted waters neutralize Athenian naval superiority. These factors show that even the supposedly inflexible Spartans are capable of changing the particular conditions of battle. In so doing, they at least open the possibility of achieving a different result. The last battle is always unique, because the losers take measures to ensure that it is unique. If no two battle narratives are quite the 1 4 Unlike most land warfare in Greece (cf. Hanson 1989:21-26), sea warfare is conducive to innovation in strategy, partly because of its unforgiving reliance on precise execution. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 3 same, there are good historical reasons why they should not be. Even though there are numerous verbal correspondences between battles, Thucydides is alive to the particularities of each engagement. Thucydides punctuates both the battles of Patrai and Naupaktos with a pair of speeches. Many scholars have discussed the relation between the speeches and the events, the erga and the logoi}5 Words and actions in this episode are even more intertwined than usual for Thucydides.1 6 However, it is worth pointing out that the 1 5 See for example de Romilly 1956, Stahl 1966, and Hunter 1973. The classic work on Thucydides’ contrast between logos and ergon is of course Parry’s 1957 Harvard dissertation, published as Parry 1981. 1 6 The rigorous correspondences between the speeches have been studied by Luschnat 1942:26-32, and de Romilly 1956:140-45. The latter also suggests some implications of the recognition of verbal correspondences for the role of the reader during the second battle off Naupaktos. De Romilly’s discussion contains an important passage which advocates a two tier style of interpretation: she encourages the reader to look at particular events as well as the general ideas buried within them. I translate the passage as follows: At each moment in the action, the reader, armed in advance with the two arguments, is placed in the position of supplementing what he reads, to understand what factors might intervene to prevent or produce a given result, and to distinguish the readily comprehensible relation [between the speeches], by virtue of which certain factors should have been more decisive than others. Thus a complete rational system surrounds each fact recorded, and gives each one a new dimension. The action, even in R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 4 speeches also operate outside this relatively narrow frame. Stahl 1973 discusses the Sicilian Debate at Athens, and points out how the whole narrative of books six and seven constantly refers back to those initial speeches. On Stahl’s reading, the verbal correspondences confirm or undercut the claims made by Nikias and Alkibiades. In the Naupaktos episode, we get a speech by the Spartan generals, and then a supposedly independent and simultaneous speech by Phormion. Verbal correspondences between the speeches show to what extent the Spartan and Athenian generals agree; on the other hand, at times the speakers use similar terminology to represent quite different ideas. The generals try to assess a difficult situation by using general principles. In doing so, they attempt to use the experience of the previous battle to work out what will happen in the next. These speeches basically have two analytical foci. Each contains a present focus, which describes the current situation and the current explanation for the result of its smallest details, takes on a larger significance; the victory of the Athenians at Naupaktos on its own turns out before the eyes of the reader to be the victory of the experience over natural valor. It illustrates the moral consequences that accompany technical progress. This makes for a quality of explanation which an indirect style could not have produced; nor could a single speech have made it so clearly apparent. De Romilly 1956:144 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 5 the last battle, and a future focus, which suggests how these factors should play out in the next battle.1 7 Besides discussing particular factors and circumstances, each speaker gives extended sections of generalization. Both speeches basically contrast two general ideas: tolma, or daring, and empeiria, or naval experience.1 8 They use these terms both to analyze the last engagement and to predict the course of the next one. The Spartans place the emphasis on the first term, arguing vigorously that they are preeminent in courage, and that this more than makes up for any advantage the enemy might have in naval expertise. Phormion replies by asserting that the Athenians are preeminent in empeiria, and that this is the very source of their own tolma. Phormion argues that the Spartan claim to tolma is a conventional expression of their sense of superiority in land warfare, and that it is not relevant to the current engagement. The Athenians have a 171 discuss the distinction between present and future in more detail in the third chapter, where I concentrate on analysis in speeches. It is worth pointing out that the speeches at Naupaktos, in contrast to the examples I give in chapter three, contain a relatively short term view of the future. Neither general looks beyond the coming battle. 1 8 As de Romilly points out (1956:143 n.2), Phormion is establishing a causal relation between considerations which the Spartans placed in antithesis. However, Phormion’s causal relation entails that “Spartan daring” is different from “Athenian daring.” R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 6 right to that same confidence at sea, he continues, because of their extensive naval experience. Phormion’s speech contains a radical redefinition of traditional terminology.1 9 A prima facie comparison of the speeches might suggest that Phormion’s claim is more penetrating and relevant to a sea battle. The dual focus of the speeches, between present and future, gives the arguments a special quality. The Spartans begin their speech by mentioning three main factors that contributed to the last defeat: lack of preparation, acts of tyche, and also (poii ti— a grudging admission) the possibility of naval inexperience (2.87.2). Straight afterwards, the generals vigorously deny that the Spartan forces exhibited any cowardice (kakici: 2.87.3). As we have seen, the Spartans back home do in fact attribute the defeat to malakia (2.85.1-2). Thucydides may quibble with the Spartan generals’ analysis of events, but they are not nearly as wrong about the battle as are the people in Sparta.2 0 Thucydides shows how poorly the Spartans grasp the essentials of naval warfare. He 1 9 It is clear enough that the Spartan interpretation of tolma is peculiar to them, just like its antithesis malakia. The Spartans consider tolma an innate quality that is impossible to acquire; Phormion asserts that it can be learned, and associates it with naval expertise. 2 0 Interestingly, one of the Spartan generals is the young Brasidas, one of the most intelligent characters in Thucydides. For Brasidas’ intelligence, see chapter two. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 7 implies that the Spartan sailors are pretematurally inclined to accept malakia as the explanation for defeat. The rest of the speech seems designed to extinguish any suspicion of kakia. The generals make the rather difficult assertion that the Spartan forces have already shown tolma— daring— and will gain an advantage because of it in the battle to come (2.87.4). Such a claim leaves open the question how to avoid repeating the result of the last battle. The following comment shows how the Spartan generals fit a retrospective analysis together with a prospective one: v o p la a i 8 e xa7$ pev tuxocis ev5exsa0ai c^dA A eaSai xou^ dvSpcjtrous, xals 8e yvcopats xoug auxoug aiei opQcos av8pe(ous e T v cci, k c c i pq ccrrEipiav xou av8pEi'ou irap o v x o s TTpo(3aAAopEvoug EiKoxcog av ev xivi xaxoug yEVEaSai. [The right way to think is] that men may fail through chance, yet it is by their resolve that the same men remain truly brave, and would not rightly turn into cowards on any occasion by claiming inexperience, when courage is present. 2.87.3, trans. Rusten Of the reasons for the defeat in the last battle, the first to be dismissed is their own apeiria, which the Spartans deny has any place where there is andreia; any claim of apeiria is tantamount to kakia. Earlier in this sentence, the Spartans dismiss the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 8 importance of tyche by placing it in antithesis with gnome.2 1 The Spartans have to admit that tyche is a stronger force than the human quality of gnome, but nevertheless they suggest that owing to the former’s unpredictable nature, the latter is a more consistent factor. According to this view, a strong and courageous force might be brought down on occasion by tyche, but never by apeiria. They finally do away with tyche by connecting its occurrence in the last battle with the third reason, paraskeue {aparaskeuoi tote tychein: 2.87.5). The Spartans do not like admitting lack of preparation, but they like tyche even less. Towards the end of the speech, they make this point explicit: they have such large forces that tyche does not matter; it was only a factor last time because they were caught ill equipped. Having argued that the enemy’s lack of tolma will prevent them from using their expertise, they conclude that there is not a single reason why they should be defeated (2.87.6). By shifting between retrospective and prospective focus, and between the particular and the general, they have produced an argument which explains the past defeat, which refutes the charge of malakia, and gives optimism about the battle to come. 2 1 Edmunds 1975:98 observes that the Spartans are not here making a true antithesis of chance and intelligence. In this case, they use gnome to mean resolution or the repository of courage; they use the word in a moral sense rather than its more common intellectual sense. We find a similar usage of gnome by Archidamos (2.11.5) and the Korinthians (1.71.1). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 6 9 The Spartans’ repudiation of tyche is quite ironic. What they take for an act of tyche, namely the wind which threw them into confusion, has in fact been predicted by Phormion’s meteorological expertise (2.84.2)." Not only is tyche unpredictable at the time, it can also be misinterpreted retrospectively.2 3 By contrast, Phormion does not 2 2 According to Thucydides’ narrative, tyche is not a factor in the battle of Patrai, but it most definitely is in the following battle. At a critical moment, a merchant ship appears by chance and provides the opportunity for a decisive maneuver. 2 3 Edmunds 1975:174-204 explores cognates of tyche in Thucydides; however, he does not discuss some very important synonyms. For example, tyche is often opposed to logos by characters, and there are many instances of to para logon in the work. Examples of the invocation of to para logon in the context of the war are: Peri kies, 1.140.1; Archidamos, 1.84.1, 2.11.4; Athenians in Sparta, 1.78.1; Spartans in Athens, 4.17-20 passim; Nikias, 7.61.3. Most military commanders in the History regard an appeal to the unknown as intellectually respectable. However, they do not all use this notion in the same way. When they talk about to para logon, commanders usually refer to instances of large natural forces which could also be described as tyche. Characters find it acceptable to be confounded by natural forces that are greater than human ones; however, they are not prepared to admit that they have been defeated by an intellectually superior adversary, who is able to make events turn out contrary to their reasoning. Because most generals in Thucydides tend to construct tyche out of their own fears of the unknown, they do not tend to consider that if it really were a superhuman force, it would hinder the enemy as much as it hinders themselves. Nikias forms an exception (7.61.7). He is in a desperate situation, and relies on tyche to count in his favor. Clearly Thucydides does not favor this approach: he admires leaders who can work out solutions for themselves, rather than expecting greater forces to save them. By contrast, at 2.87.6 Phormion does not rely on tyche, but asserts that tolma and empeiria alone can see the Athenians forces through. The Spartan generals argue that since they R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 0 mention tyche in his speech at all.2 4 It is natural to regard a kairos as a focalization constructed by a character, as I have done above. The speeches suggest that this interpretation could also be applied to notions like tyche and anagke. The Spartans’ tyche depends on their point of view; their view is determined to a large extent by their own interests and values. Phormion does discuss the notion of unpredictability, but he uses different terminology from the Spartans. He argues that unpredictability has nothing to do with chance, but has everything to do with the difficulty of seeing other people’s plans and intentions: a X o y i^ o p E V o i o t f r o i t c o o u k e ’ i k o t i t t A e o v T T E 9 o (3 r)V T a i finds q rfj K c r r a A o y o v T r a p a a K E u f j (“In taking account of this they will fear more on account of our inscrutability than if we had made preparations according to rational suffered from tyche last time, it is less likely to happen next time (2.87.6); consequently, they can get around tyche by putting right those factors which ‘happened’ to be against them last time (viz. lack of preparation for a sea-battle). 2 4 If there is a place in Phormion’s speech where we might expect a reference to tyche, it would be in his version of a conventional utterance: “Often the larger force has been brought down by the smaller through apeiria, and sometimes through atolmici' (2.89.7). Phormion is emphatically denying the importance of tyche by asserting that an effect commonly attributed to tyche is caused by more tangible and human qualities. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 1 considerations”: 2.S9.6).2 5 Fear, Phormion argues, depends on the unknown and the incalculable. This is a capital insight. Phormion implies that if a general makes quite logical deductions from obvious circumstances, his action would be perfectly predictable. But men’s plans and intentions are in general opaque to others; and this unknown factor creates fear in the enemy. In this claim, Phormion appears to anticipate Luttwak’s argument. He realizes that rational considerations lead to predictability, and so his strategy must always move a step beyond what the enemy can see. This important claim underlies Phormion’s contention that the number of the enemy is not to be feared.2 6 The very act of fighting with 20 ships against 77 ships may appear to confound 2 5 At the beginning of the speech, Phormion presents the same situation as the Spartans, but from the Athenian point of view. He explains why the Athenians should not be afraid, and why the enemy should be afraid. He is using the technique of supplying the opponent’s point of view, which has been studied in Homer by de Jong. Often in Homer, characters give embedded hypothetical speeches inside their own direct speeches. For instance, Hektor puts a speech into Achilles’ mouth as he crows over the dying Patroklos: Iliad 16.837ff. De Jong explains that this embedded speech is “a deliberately self-invented reconstruction meant to hurt Patroklos” (1987:176-77). In the case of Phormion, we find analysis of the future rather than reconstruction of the past. Phormion intends to drive a wedge between the knowledge of the Athenians and that of the Spartans, and argues that the latter’s incomprehension will be a source of fear. ^Thucydides introduces his speech by commenting on Phormion’s repeated assurances to his men that they can overcome any discrepancy in numbers (2.88.2). I doubt that this is a safe lesson to infer from the previous engagement. Phormion’s quite unexpected victory however appears to confirm this conclusion, particularly in the eyes of the Peloponnesians, who at 3.32 run away from two Athenian triremes when they have a R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 2 all calculation of likelihood. He argues that it is more fearsome to fight with small forces than with great ones, because it makes the enemy think that that they are relying on some unknown factor. Phormion identifies that unknown factor as tolma. This is the Athenian tolma, which arises from their naval expertise. Phormion’s main point, however, is that the factor that is unknown to the enemy is more fearsome than something which conforms to the enemy’s calculation. Phormion knows along which lines the enemy thinks, and adds elements to his planning just because they are incomprehensible to the enemy. In the previous engagement he has proved that he can replicate the effect of tyche in the enemy’s mind. The key to the strategies of generals with operational expertise turns out to be their ability to assess the limits of the enemy’s thinking. force of forty-seven. Phormion’s speech seems to take this assertion a stage further, when he claims that the enemy’s numbers are the sign and the source of their fear: oilrroi y a p -npcoTOv pev 8 ia t o TrpovevtKfja0ai xat pti8’ au xoi olea0ai opoToi f)pTv eTvai t o TrXfjOos tgov vecbv teat outc cctto to u Taou TrapECJKEudaavTO (2.89.2). This may be an ingenious argument for the thesis that the enemy is more afraid than the Athenians, but it does not dispense with the realities of the situation. Phormion does not really prove that naval expertise can overcome any discrepancy in numbers. Westlake 1968:52 has suggested that Phormion is forced to take on this battle because of this very assertion. This is an attractive suggestion; however, Phormion does assert at 2.89.6 that he is offering battle voluntarily. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 3 The narrative of the initial stages of the battle at Naupaktos, however, does not seem to bear out Phormion’s analysis in any way. Both leaders are aware that Phormion’s force is stretched to the limit by this disparity in numbers, and that the Peloponnesians have the initiative.2 7 The specifically strategic section in Phormion’s speech describes what he does not want to happen (2.89.8). Having established the accuracy of Phormion’s planning in the Patrai narrative, the narrative follows precisely the course he fears. Verbal correspondences between the analysis and the events of the battle seem to set up the narrative for a Peloponnesian victory.2 8 Though the Spartan 2 7 In the initial stages of the battle, Phormion acts predictably to the enemy. This is the case not because he is unintelligent, but because he cannot control the situation, as his speech acknowledges. Westlake comments on Phormion’s intention to avoid the straits: “Frequent references to this aim, and to the fact that he was forced by the successful tactics of the Peloponnesians to do precisely what he wished to avoid, emphasize the extent to which he was outmanoeuvred. Thucydides makes abundantly clear that the Athenian victory was not the outcome of his foresight” (1968:51). This claim does not necessarily form a criticism of Phormion’s generalship, but simply points to the way the discrepancy in numbers overextends his force. 2 8 The verbal correspondences are pointed out by de Romilly 1956:142-3. The most direct reference between planning and events concerns Phormion’s unwillingness to go into the gulf (ouk ev tco koAttcp ekcov . . . ocKOvrag .. . cckcov: 2.89.8, 2.90.1,3). See the head of the chapter for this section of the speech. Special emphasis is laid on how events initially conform to the expectations of the Spartans (oirep ekeivoi ttp o o e S e x o v to . . . oTTEp e(3ouAovto paA iaTa: 2.90.3,4). and it is worth noting how their expectation is expressed by the same verb as was used of Phormion in the battle off Patrai (2.90.5, cf. 2.84.2 above). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 4 strategy is not explicitly mentioned in their speech, the skillful feint and ruthless execution in the first part of the battle clearly imply adroit planning. Thucydides makes the events test Phormion’s thesis. Phormion is able to see precisely what the enemy’s strategy is in these circumstances, and he sees how that strategy will probably lead to a Spartan victory. The narrative, then, challenges Phormion to shift the course of events away from the result he anticipates and fears. The events in the battle force the reader to reassess the predictive claims made in the speeches. Phormion does not establish in his speech specifically how Athenian tolma will save the Athenians from the course of events he fears. The Spartans are in a position to take away the advantages Phormion has relied upon in his argument. The Spartan generals assert in their speech that the battle will be more like a land battle on the decks in the constricted waters of the gulf (2.87.6-8).2 9 An engagement may require the Spartan brand of tolma the generals describe in their speech. While retrospective parts of the Peloponnesian speech seem to have been inaccurate, it looks as though the predictive parts of the speech are coming true. 2 9 Thucydides has already described Sybota as a land battle on ships (1.49.2). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 5 Suddenly, the battle takes an unexpected turn: a single Athenian ship rounds a merchant ship at anchor, and strikes its Leukadian pursuer amidships. Thucydides claims that the appearance of the merchant ship is an instance of tyche (2.91.3). This incident leads to a complete reversal of the situation. But Thucydides does not explicitly connect the chance appearance of the ship with that reversal; the incident also involves some skilled improvisation on the part of an unnamed captain. The event exemplifies Athenian speed and initiative.3 0 However, this reversal could also be interpreted as an act of tyche, and the Spartans certainly appear to see it as such. The main result of the incident is a dramatic reversal in Spartan mood: in very short order, the Peloponnesians are frozen in fearful disbelief (yevopEvou t o u t o u cxTrpoaSoKijTou t e kcxi tra p a A oyov 9o(3os eu tu tttei: 2.91.4). By contrast, the Athenians gain confidence (tharsos elabe: 2.92.1). After the surprise, the Athenians are as ruthlessly efficient as ever; they attack and easily defeat the Peloponnesians.3 1 The incident itself involves just one ship 3 0 So de Romilly 1956:147: she notes the repetition of phthanousin . .. phthasasa. 3 1 De Romilly 1956:143-4 points out how the phobos and reaction of the Peloponnesians goes directly against the injunctions of their generals, for instance ouk evScocjouev Trpocpaoiv ou5evi kcxkco yEVEO0ai (2.88.9). Now it is the Athenians, instead of the Peloponnesians, who act with unanimity (apo henos keleusmatos: 2.92.1; cipo semeiou henos: 2.91.4). De Romilly sees the battle as a confirmation of the speeches. At the beginning, the events seem to favor the Peloponnesians’ case, but the final result proves R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 6 from either side, a fraction of the whole force. However, the event produces an extraordinary psychological effect.3 2 Although the narrative does not contain much in the Athenian arguments correct, and restores what she regards as the “normal order of things” (1956:147). 3 2 It seems quite common in Thucydidean battle narratives for a single unexpected turn of events to change the course of a battle, by means of its effect on morale and action. The most conspicuous example of this effect is the reversal on Epipolai at 7.43.7: the Athenians advance in ataxia, and come across a Boiotian contingent who are the first to put up any resistance. From that point the battle turns into a disaster for the Athenians. The battle at Naupaktos contains a clear reference to the battle on Epipolai. Just before the critical maneuver, Thucydides describes the Peloponnesian ships sailing confident of victory: etraidvi^ov te a p a ttXeovtes cos vevuoikotes (2.91.2). On Epipolai, at the crucial moment of reversal in that battle, the Athenians are also described as advancing confident of victory: trpoTovTcov 8e tgov ’A0r|vaicov ev dT a^ia paAAov t)8ti cos KEKpaTrjKOTcov (7.43.7). In both cases, it is not immediately apparent how the hitherto successful army should be turned round so abjectly. The following narrative concentrates on the psychological effects spreading across the force as they realize they are caught in disorder and do not know what to do. In both cases, the origin of that realization is a relatively small incident. Another instance of reversals in mood governing the course of events occurs at 4.36.1-2, in the battle at Pylos. The leader of the Messenians suddenly appears at the enemy’s rear; this action breaks the attrition and seals the victory. A third instance occurs at Olpai. Here Thucydides suggests that what provides the link between the rear attack of the small mixed division of 400 soldiers and the retreat of the whole (very large) force is their perception of the best wing of the army, under Eurylochos, being cut to pieces: o i ek T fj$ E v e 8 p a g ’A ic a p v a v E S E T rtyE vopE voi a u T o I $ K a r a v c o t o u T T poam T T T O uai t e K a i T p E ir o u a iv , c o o t e ufjTE e$ a A tcfiv u tr o p E lv a i 9 o (3 q 0 E V T a s t e e s c p u y r iv K a i t o t t A e o v t o u c r r p a T E U p a T o s K a T a c r r f j a a r ETTEiBf] y a p eT 8 o v to k o t ' E u p u A o x o v K ai o K p a T iO T o v fjv 8 ia q > 0 E ip o n E v o v , ttoX X od p a X X o v Ecpo(3o0vTO . 3.108.1 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 7 the way of explicit embedded focalization, Thucydides is able to direct the reader to interpret the events both from an Athenian and a Spartan point of view. The contrast between those two views explains the characters’ motivations, and provides the key to the narrative as a whole. While it would be limiting to interpret the narrative according to the speeches, it is clear that certain general factors mentioned in the speeches do play a large role in the battle itself. The deciding incident of the battle turns on the Spartans’ fear; this fear may appear to be the opposite of the tolma they claimed for themselves in the speech.3 3 Certainly, Phormion argues in his speech that the Spartans are vulnerable to fear/ '1 The narrative, however, does not bear out or confirm either analysis in its entirety. The beginning of the battle does seem to confirm the Spartans’ plan and their intention to In each case, relatively small scale and unexpected incidents cause great psychological effects to spread across a whole army. 3 3 The Spartans seem to argue that tolma and to dedienai are compatible (2.87.5). They claim that their tolma will be a more enduring factor than Athenian expertise or chance (87.3-5). De Romilly 1956:143-4 points out the correspondences between the claims about fear in the speeches and its occurrence in the battle, and argues that the narrative disproves the Spartans’ case. 3 4 Phormion claims: “Do not then fear Spartan tolma. You yourselves confer a greater and more justified fear upon them” (2.89.5). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 8 fight a land battle on ships. However, it becomes clear that the Spartan generals passed too lightly over another factor: they dismissed apeiria as an unacceptable excuse for defeat. To bolster this claim, the Spartans asserted that they have a measure of empeiria because they have learned from the mistakes of the last engagement.3 5 Apparently the Spartans think they now have naval expertise because of their planned feint maneuver, and because of their ability to lead the Athenians where they do not want to go. In the last phase of the battle, the narrative makes abundantly clear that the Spartans’ apeiria is precisely what brings them down. In their consternation, the Spartans make mistakes (hamartemata: 2.92.1), such as dropping their oars, and running aground because of their apeiria of the localities (2.91.4). Thucydides claims at 2.92.1 that their mistakes together with their ataxia make them dash for the friendly shore at Panormos.3 6 Clearly, the Spartans have not learned the lessons they claim to have learned. The Spartans’ fear comes from the realization that they do not know what to do at the crucial moment. 3 5 <a\ oact fmapTOUEV Trporepou. vuv a u r a rau T a TTpoayEvopEva SiSaoKaXiav TtapE^Ei (2.87.7). 3 6 The reference to ataxia recalls the Spartans’ predicament at 2.84.3. At both moments, an Athenian leader gives a signal to attack. (Curiously, Thucydides does not identify that leader as Phormion in the battle of Naupaktos). Though initially the two battles seemed different, they turn out exactly the same. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 7 9 Phormion claimed in his speech that fear relies more on people’s views of events than on the events themselves. The battle of Naupaktos has confirmed the profound truth of this claim. The Spartans’ fear, then, expresses the profound and long lasting effect of this battle. The Peloponnesians realize now, and for a long time later, that Athenian naval expertise is so powerful an advantage that it can overcome the enemy’s planning, advantage in numbers, favorable situation and tolma together. Phormion has found a way to test the Spartans’ knowledge and experience. Fear arises from the unknown, Phormion claims (2.89.6). Phormion has shown how to defeat an enemy by exploiting the limits of their knowledge. The narrative of the battle of Naupaktos has proved profoundly right a single general claim in Phormion’s speech. But if we look back at his speech as a whole, the events do not confirm all parts of Phormion’s analysis.3 7 Rather, the narrative of the battle leaves significant questions about the reasoning in both of the speeches. We have seen that both of the speeches are very wrong about important factors in the battle, while Phormion does fleetingly strike truth. After all, the Athenian victory is not a 371 agree with Stahl 1966:92 that Thucydides in this narrative emphasizes the sheer difficulty of prediction. The most difficult part of prediction lies in applying general principles to particular conditions. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 0 necessary outcome.3 8 But for a stroke of tyche and an utterly unplanned maneuver, the Spartans might well have won. While it is false that the Peloponnesians could just rely on their native courage, it is equally false that the Athenians’ naval prowess could see them through any situation, and any inferiority of numbers.3 9 It would be more accurate to say that Thucydides uses the interaction of speech and battle to study the limit of each participant’s reasoning. The initial situation emerges as an unstable equilibrium. 3 8 De Romilly 1956:145 declares that the result of the battle was “far from necessary”; later however she argues that the narrative presentation makes it seem more necessary by reestablishing the “normal situation” in which the Athenians are preeminent on sea, and the Spartans on land (1956:148). The outcome of the battle does seem to explain the psychological and technical basis for this “normal situation.” However, it does not make the outcome of the battle more necessary. I disagree with de Romilly 1956:147 when she claims that it is an “exceptional circumstance” for the Peloponnesians to be confident and adroit when attacking on this occasion. In this battle, the Spartans’ confidence clearly derives directly from their massive numerical superiority and from their position in the gulf. The Peloponnesians learn from this defeat: they try to avoid the “normal situation” in later engagements and refuse to meet the Athenians on equal terms. For instance, the engagement at 3.77-79 mainly involves Korinthians and Kerkyraians: the 12 Athenian ships cannot control the whole battle by themselves. Nor is the Peloponnesians’ fear at the crux of the battle related to a characteristic naval inferiority complex. The cases I have above given of the relation of fear to defeat show that this fear is as much an Athenian characteristic as a Peloponnesian one (see notes 23, 32). In these instances, fear tends to result from the perception of certain defeat, not to cause it. 391 agree with Stahl 1966:92 that the battle narrative functions as a test case for the participants’ claims about naval expertise, though I am here studying the immediate claims rather than the assertions made in the speeches in book one. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 1 The Athenians are outnumbered so heavily that their superior skill may not count as an advantage, and the Spartans do not have the technique to wipe out the Athenians in a single attack. In such a delicately poised situation, a single event can decide the outcome of battle. A comparison between the battles of Patrai and Naupaktos leads to important conclusions about Thucydides’ methods of narrative presentation. In many ways, the battles are very different: the circumstances at Naupaktos are relatively even, and there is reason for optimism on both sides. The battle of Patrai is virtually a foregone conclusion because the Athenians have an enormous initial advantage, numbers notwithstanding. The whole narrative, incorporating these two battles and the speeches, demonstrates the concatenation of advantages that can be secured by Athenian naval expertise, and it shows how Thucydides uses narrative techniques to establish the expertise of one commander. The two extended speeches inform the narrative before and after, precisely because the delicately balanced situation makes extraordinary intellectual demands of the commander. Both speeches are intelligent, but they are almost bound to be wrong in the event because neither speaker knows how his general R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 2 principles of analysis will play out in the event. Thucydides shapes the account of the battle to show that while the commanders’ general ideas do indeed govern events, they do not do so in a predictable fashion. Moreover, by explicitly giving two pieces of analysis, from an Athenian and a Spartan point of view, Thucydides encourages the reader to look at the later narrative with those perspectives in mind. The contrast between the Athenian and Spartan focalizations provides the key to the events. The fundamental inaccuracy of the two speeches is not designed to misdirect the reader, or to leave him or her in suspense. Instead, Thucydides confronts the reader with the possible courses of events permitted by the circumstances, and to establish the point that rational analysis cannot definitively prove one prediction about future events truer than another. The generals’ articulation of potentially important factors does not necessarily get them any nearer to predicting the actual course of events in the coming battle. But Thucydides does emphasize the importance of certain forms of expectation. Some characters may act on the basis of rational analysis, others on the basis of a misperception of reality. Thucydides believes that individual events are mainly the product of men’s own mental workings, whether misguided or accurate. In his narrative, R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. he leads the reader to make comparisons with earlier events and to draw lessons from them. By means of the narrative devices used in the text, Thucydides encourages the reader to look at the situation from the point of view of the general. Patrai suggests the power of reasoning the commander can have, while Naupaktos shows how difficult it can be to employ this expertise in a particular situation. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 4 Part Two: Demosthenes' Learning and Verbal Reminiscence In the rest of this chapter I will be examining Thucydides’ presentation of the career of Demosthenes, a general with expertise on land rather than sea. In naval warfare, strategy is on the whole more critical than on land. Though Hanson accurately remarks on the general absence of strategy in hoplite warfare, nevertheless, certain types of land warfare do entail a high degree of tactical thinking.- 1 0 In what follows I show how Demosthenes’ strategy derives from his own experience. Rather than emerging as a fully fledged expert, Demosthenes is shown learning lessons from his early military defeat in Aitolia, and applying this learning in his victories in Amprakia and at Pylos, and also in the catastrophic loss on Epipolai. Thucydides uses the same sorts of narrative techniques as he did to establish the stature of Phormion in the eyes of the reader. However, the concentration of verbal reminiscences running throughout Demosthenes’ campaigns illustrates Demosthenes’ tactical thinking over a wider stretch 1 4 0 Hanson argues that hoplite warfare is in general formulaic; in this type of warfare, the cohesion of the front line is paramount (1989:21-26). The appropriate individual qualities are bravery and daring. For instance, the poems of Tyrtaios celebrate a hoplite’s ideal qualities (cf. Edmunds 1975:85). However, during the Peloponnesian War there are only two true hoplite battles, at Delion and at Mantinea. The other land battles tend to be different; and these differences are determined mainly by the forces involved and the terrain. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 5 of text. In this section, I use verbal reminiscences to show how Thucydides presents a general acquiring military skill. The Demosthenes narratives show the general’s learning, and also teach the reader how to look at battle narratives. Verbal reminiscence is the second of the narrative techniques I study in the chapter, and Thucydides uses it in the Demosthenes narratives rather differently from the Phormion narrative. The battle of Patrai gives a good example of Thucydides’ use of verbal reminiscences within a single engagement. Obviously, the technique establishes the accuracy of Phormion’s predictions. However, the account of Demosthenes’ earlier campaigns contains numerous verbal correspondences from one battle to another. I suggest that their narrative function depends upon their role for the reader: they correspond to the memories of earlier engagements. The general, while he is planning a battle, remembers elements from his past battles, and also from other battles he has heard about. At the same time, as we are reading the narrative of that engagement, those same verbal references trigger our memories of previous battle narratives. Most verbal correspondences are restricted to a few words at most, and they may suggest a comparison between specific factors in one battle and another. These are the same general factors which I identified in the Phormion narrative: planning, manpower, R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 6 preparation, action, natural conditions, and morale. Most of the time, these factors represent a more or less accidental resemblance between one battle and another, even if they play an important causal role in the engagement. But sometimes they come in such profusion that they establish one situation as essentially the same as another. However concentrated these verbal reminiscences are, they demand that the reader compare a stretch of text with what he or she has already read and to apply the experience of previous engagements to new circumstances. In other words, the narrator places the reader in the same position vis-a-vis the text as the general who tries to analyze present circumstances using knowledge of the past.4 1 This intellectual activity aims at finding the meaning of historical events by making analogies with essential factors which have occurred in the past. There can be no doubt that Thucydides intended his readers to approach his work with this attitude; in his introduction, Thucydides writes of the value of his work in terms of the repetition of historical phenomena: 4 1 Connor suggests a similar approach to reading Thucydides at 1984:13-15 and 36 n.36. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 7 o a o i 8 e ( 3 o u X f |a o v T a i t g o v t e y E v o p E v c o v t o a a c p E S o k o t t eT v kcci TCOV HeXX o UTCOV TTOTE a u 0 i s K CX TCC TO CXV0pcO7TlVOV TOIOUTCOV KCU T a p a T r X r ja tc o v E O E a 0 a i, c b q jE X ip a K pi'vEiv a i r r a a p K o u v T c o s e£ e i. But for those who wish to perceive the truth about both those events which have taken place and those which will take place, given that according to humanity such and very similar things will happen again at some time, it will be enough that they think [my work] useful. 1 .2 2 .4 The first thing to say about this famous sentence is that Thucydides leaves wide open the question of what kinds of things can recur in history.4 2 It is quite unlikely however that in writing these words Thucydides thought that his History would only be useful when the exact same events occur over again.4 3 Thucydides does on occasion suggest close similarities between episodes, but he does this only rarely. And the words kata to 4 2 Cogan 1981 groups the things that recur under the word Thucydides uses: to anthropinon, or “the human thing.” He identifies this term with human debate about particular decisions. Cogan uses this argument to explore the speeches for Thucydides’ principles of historiography. De Romilly, in the course of writing about military narratives, suggests that general factors such as “courage and experience, number and confidence, prediction and chance” are the things always destined to recur in human history (1956:149). De Romilly groups these terms artfully in pairs: in doing so she suggests Thucydides intends us to perceive the balance or the relationship between these factors, and not just these factors themselves. I take de Romilly’s point to be that while history does incorporate general principles, it is not defined by particular instances or configurations of those general principles. 431 find the argument about Thucydides’ “cyclical” view of history in Finley 1963:290- 294 the weakest part of an otherwise excellent work. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 8 anthrdpinon suggest that Thucydides has in mind the recurrence of general elements of human experience, such as patterns of human behavior and morality. Those cases in which essentially the same situation recurs suggest most strongly that lessons from one episode are applicable to the other.4 4 In the narrative of Demosthenes’ campaigns in the Northwest at the end of book three, there are two such pairings. The first recurrence occurs at the beginning of the campaign narrative, and the second occurs at the end. As the Messenians make a proposal to Demosthenes, attempting to persuade him to undertake the hazardous Aitolian expedition, they give a very similar speech to the one given by the Amphilochians in Sparta (2.80.1). Stahl 1966:130-131 discusses the Messenian speech at the beginning of a chapter examining “recurring structural elements” in Thucydides. Stahl points out the very extensive verbal similarities between these two speeches, and points out their identical argumentative structure. It could be said that they adhere to a formula for a specific type of speech, viz. the speech of a 4 4 Gomme HCT 1:149 argues that Thucydides does not mean to say that the perception of recurrences in history leads to accurate predictions: “It should not be necessary, but it is, to explain that tcov heAAovtcov . .. eaEO0ai is future to Thucydides, but not to his readers.” Gomme does admit, however, that Thucydides’ intention might be to teach readers about their contemporary circumstances as well as their past. According to this view, the identification of these recurring phenomena does not depend upon a retrospective focus. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 8 9 marginal people, persuading a major power to make an expedition into their territory.4 5 They set out a plan for the expedition, commenting on the lack of opposition and the need for speed. Granting some prior condition, they set out a goal that is attractive to the enemy: Naupaktos for the Spartans, and the whole of Northwest Greece for Demosthenes. Both speeches are completely persuasive to the audience, and thus their content suggests the attitudes and motives of the Spartans and Demosthenes in undertaking these expeditions. Both audiences, it seems, have their eyes on an ultimate goal that is out of reach for the moment; nevertheless, they are persuaded that they can achieve that goal if they make any effort at all. 4 5 This type emerges through the significant verbal parallels between three speeches: the speech at 2.80.1-2 (Amprakiots to Spartans), at 3.94.3-5 (Messenians to Demosthenes, with a reprise at 3.97.1) and the very brief speech at 3.102.6 (Amprakiots to Eurylochos). All three proposals are successful, and are ringed by the word peithein. Other verbal reminiscences run as follows (there are variations, so I have given representative examples of the various categories): A m prakiots legontes hoti / ekeleuon (proposal) 2.80.1 prin xymboethesai (catching enemy off guard) 2.80. en kratosi (preliminary condition) 2.80.1 raidids (ease of execution) 2.80.1 hos tachista (need for speed) 2.80.2 elpis (hope) 2.80.1 pan to Hepeirotikon / Zakynthos / Kephallenia (territorial inducement) 2.80.1 Messenians Amprakiots 3.94.5.3.97.1 3.102.6 1 3.94.4,3.97.1 3.94.4,5 3.102.6 3.94.3.4.5.3.97.1 3.97.1 2.97.2 3.94.3 3.102.6 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 0 Stahl’s pairing of these two speeches has important implications in terms of narrative presentation. The reader may well remember the result of the Spartan expedition: they pressed inland without waiting for naval support, and turned back when the Chaonians were turned to flight by the Stratians. An episode in the past text has made the reader familiar with the problems of going deep into the northwestern territories with a predominantly hoplite force, against opposition that is lightly armed and skilled at ambushes. In their speech, the Messenians skate over this difficulty, using the word pctSt'cos three times (including their follow-up at 3.97.1) and ou xaXetrou once. The parallel places a burden of doubt on the reader, which is only magnified by their insistence on the simplicity of the project. In this speech, the emotively charged word pa5ico$ is clearly focalized by the Messenians. However, since the Messenians are persuasive, that localization extends to Demosthenes too.4 6 Thucydides clearly does not agree with this assessment, and so we 4 6 Normally, the focalizer of an emotive word like raidids is easily identified with the speaker. However in this case Demosthenes, the audience, completely agrees with the speaker’s judgment. In chapter two, I deal with this problem by setting out levels of focalization (FI, F2, F3), according to the schema which I presented in the introduction. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 1 can say that his perspective is ironic. Nevertheless, the speech is designed to appeal to the Athenian hoplite commander. We can see this by comparing the speech with the counter proposal from the Akamanians, which immediately precedes it. The Akamanian proposal also includes the word p g 8(co$, but in this case its focalization is explicitly delimited by the word nomizontes; this word implies that the audience does not participate in the focalized judgment. Thucydides also implies subtle differences in focalization in his presentation of objectives. The Akamanians describe the Leukadians as aiei 09(01 TroAspi'ag; again, they do not extend the focalization beyond themselves. The Messenians refer to the Aitolians as NauTTaKTcp ttoAehiois ouai; these words have a wider function. Instead of just describing a threat to themselves, they hint at what Athens might lose by neglecting their offer. So the Messenian focalization of the word “enmity” includes the Athenian general. Demosthenes may be motivated by personal glory, by the interests of Athens, or by what he can justify to the Athenian ekklesia.4 7 In any case, he is clearly the right character for the Messenians to address.4 8 According to those categories, I would classify the Messenians’ rciidids as level (F2). and Demosthenes’ raidios as level (F3). However, for present purposes we can regard Demosthenes’ and the Messenians’ view of the situation as effectively identical. 4 7 These considerations are not of course mutually exclusive. A general can pursue personal honor at the same time as doing what he believes is best for his state, or doing what his government has told him to do. Thucydides hints that Demosthenes values R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 2 Both focalization and the reminiscence of a previous episode cast suspicion over the Messenian speech. But the following narrative contains verbal echoes, which look both backwards and forwards, and which give the reader even clearer signals of danger. Stahl 1966:130-1 has pointed out the most prominent of these, the echo of the Spartan campaign against Stratos. This parallel invites comparison between the Athenians and Spartans in Amphilochia. It also equates Demosthenes with Knemos, who has not set a flattering example.4 9 Verbal reminiscences provide implicit comment on the part of the personal honor by using the word kalon at 3.94.3. This combination of personal interest and convincing arguments from locals recalls Alkibiades’ speech in the Sicilian Debate (cf. 6.17). This argument goes down well with the ekklesia. As far as we know, the general on expedition would have considerable freedom to do what he wishes, as long as he can show that he is acting in the interests of Athens (cf. Homblower 1983:121). Westlake 1968:100 & n.5 makes a similar comment on the revealing words ha dei at 4.2.2. 4 8 Earlier, Phormion insists against the Akamanians’ plea for aid that it is vital to defend Naupaktos (2.81.1). To an extent, this judgment makes Demosthenes’ decision to listen to the Messenians rather than the Akamanians more understandable. Demosthenes can argue that the Aitolian expedition is an attempt to solidify Athens’ hold on Naupaktos. 4 9 The words tous Lokrous ouk anamainas, hous edei prosboethesai (3.97.1) recall Thucydides’ description of Knemos pressing inland before the navy arrived: ou perimeinas to apo Korinthou nautikon and nautikon ho edei paragenesthai (2.80.8, 2.83.1). This fleet is the one defeated by Phormion at Patrai, so it is interesting that it was originally intended merely as a support force for Knemos’ expedition. Within the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 3 historian. This passage also contains explicit authorial comments presaging disaster. The first, at 3.96.3, shows how the Aitolians were well prepared, contrary to the Messenian assurances; the second, at 3.97.2, comments in a parenthesis on Demosthenes’ lack of light armed javelin throwers.5 0 But if we look at the third technique I study, narrative shaping, a different picture emerges. This technique also contains implicit authorial comment, and in this instance Thucydides seems to shy away from condemning Demosthenes outright.5 1 To a scope of the whole work, the naval engagement turns out to be much more significant than Knemos’ expedition. 5 0 Clearly, Demosthenes is unaware of the Aitolians’ state of preparation (3.96.3). Demosthenes is possibly aware of his own shortage of light armed javelin throwers (endees malista en: 3.97.2.) However, soon afterwards Thucydides describes their effectiveness both in attack and retreat (3.97.3), suggesting that Demosthenes does not at this stage fully appreciate how to use light armed troops effectively in this situation. Hanson 1989:160-170 describes the vulnerability of heavily armed hoplites from every direction except the front. Ironically, in their speech the Messenians use the argument that the Aitolians “only” have light arms (3.94.3). They must know the advantages of light arms in their local terrain. It is fair to say that Demosthenes is misled by the Messenians. 5 1 The most likely instance of Thucydides’ explicit criticism occurs in the disputed phrase tei tuchei elpisas, hod ouden autoi enantiouto. Scholars have disputed whether the hod clause explains tei tuchei or elpisas. It seems that the former is the most common interpretation, (cf. Edmunds 1975:176), and this has the authority of Smyth (GG^[1517). Edmunds quotes Smyth’s translation of tei tuchei elpisas “confident by R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 4 large extent, Demosthenes emerges as the victim of circumstances.5 2 The rebuffed Akamanians refuse to go, the Kerkyraians sail home (3.95.1-2), and they fail to meet up with the Ozolian Lokrians.5 3 Despite these setbacks, things go well at first, with the capture of Potidania, Krokyleion and Teichion on consecutive days. Nevertheless, the general is wavering (3.96.2); just at this point the narrative shifts scene and describes reason of his good fortune.” He comments that the definite article signals that tyche here has particular force: it refers to Demosthenes’ good fortune in encountering scant opposition. If we take this line, we can claim that the words are critical of Demosthenes (as Westlake 1968:101, de Romilly 1956:169), in implying that he was overconfident and insensitive to the danger of the situation. The interpretation suggested by LSJ and Betant (L7) is that hoti explains elpisas, and that tyche has general force. On this reading, the phrase tei tuchei elpisas can mean “trusting to chance,” and the following phrase explains his reason for doing so. Though this would be more consistent with Demosthenes’ thoughts at 3.96.2, it is hard to see how the Greek could bear this meaning. According to LSJ, this is the only instance in Greek literature of elpizo with a dative object. And where an alternative interpretation is available, it is hard to set a precedent for this instance. 5 2 Cf. Roisman 1993:26: “Demosthenes is to blame not only for his unwarranted optimism, but also because he did not change his plans when it was still possible to do so.” 5 3 Demosthenes is encouraged by the Messenians to press on with the attack, and not to wait for the contingent of Ozolian Lokrians who were supposed to rendezvous on the way. In other words, locals give Demosthenes the wrong advice. Later, Demosthenes learns how to get solid advice from locals. Thucydides is silent about the fate of the Ozolian Lokrians. However, the parallel with the Knemos narrative suggests that the Ozolian Lokrians may have been intercepted or at least delayed. Clearly, it is hazardous to arrange for armies to meet up deep in enemy territory. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 95 the unexpected preparations of the Aitolians, of which he is unaware.5 4 Demosthenes is then persuaded to go on by the Messenians. While Thucydides has given warnings of the disaster for the reader, there have been no such obvious clues for the main character. As with the verbal reminiscences discussed above, these warnings give the reader a measure of experience not shared by the main character, and lend an ironic perspective to his actions. At the same time, this effect emphasizes the difficulty of the general’s situation. Most unsuccessful military campaigns reach a point at which it becomes obvious to a leader that the situation and resources are not sufficient for success. A sensible commander would calculate that he has a certain amount of time to retreat in safety. Demosthenes’ attack on Aigition goes at first just like his attack on Teichion. But as soon as Demosthenes realizes that the place is booby-trapped by light armed troops hidden in the mountains ringing the town, it is too late. Thucydides sets up the narrative to show where Demosthenes makes errors, but he presents those errors in such a way as to make them understandable. 5 4 Thucydides makes this clear at 3.96.3. We may compare this sudden shift of scene to the very famous shift between Athenian inactivity on Epipolai and the arrival of Gylippos in Syracuse at 6.104-7.2. Stahl 1966:130 suggests that Thucydides is making an implicit criticism of Demosthenes here, and that Thucydides makes this same criticism explicit with the words Trj tu x o sAm'oas (3.97.2). In my view, in the first case Demosthenes seems more to blame for gullibility than for not knowing the state of the enemy’s preparations. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 6 Demosthenes is quite unprepared for such an attack, as the ensuing disaster clearly shows. In this passage, Thucydides lays emphasis on the Aitolian javelin throwers’ ability to throw and retreat, suggesting that this is quite an unfamiliar tactic to the Athenian commander. But in fact this is not the first time the tactic has been described in the work. Thucydides used virtually identical words to describe the warfare of the Bottiaians at 2.79.6, who inflicted an even greater defeat on the Athenians than the one at Aigition; while this mode of warfare is strange to Demosthenes, it is not necessarily so for the attentive reader.5 5 The Aitolian disaster constitutes a learning 5 5 The similarity between Bottiaian and Aitolian fighting is evident in these passages: k c c i ottote psv ettioiev oi ’AOqvaToi, eveSi'Soaav, avaxcopouai 5 ’ E T T E K E IV X O K C t'l E O T IK O V X I^ O V . K C C l O TE |i£V E T T lO l TO X C O V ’A0T|Va(cOV OXpaXOTTEBoV, U T T E X C O pO U V . a v a x c o p o u a i 8 e ettekeivxo- Kai fjv e tt i ttoAu x o ia u x q ij p a x fi. Sicb^Eis xe Kai u tr a y c o y a i, ev oT j ap<poxEpois q a a o u s fja a v oi ’A0qvaToi. 2.79.6, 3.97.3 The campaign in Bottiaia killed 430 men and all the generals: this information casts an ironic light on Thucydides’ comment that the 120 victims in Aitolia were the best Athenian men who died in the war (3.98.4). As Gomme points out ad loc., the Bottiaian disaster does not provide an exact parallel to the Aitolian disaster, since the decisive battle takes place on flat ground and involves a large cavalry force. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 7 experience for Demosthenes. The most important lesson he learns is how effective light armed troops can be against hoplites in hilly and bushy terrain.5 6 Here Thucydides points out these lessons explicitly, as in his presages of disaster. Far more often, Thucydides conveys these lessons implicitly to the reader by using verbal correspondences. Many of these references involve specific tactics. These echoes work on two levels. On the one hand, they represent the general’s memories of elements in previous battles, which may play a large role in the current battle. On the other hand, these verbal reminiscences challenge the reader to find critical factors in past battles, and then encourage him or her to assess their influence on the current engagement. This is an ongoing learning process, in which lessons from one battle can be applied to another; however, the second battle may yield quite different lessons for a 5 6 Cf. Grundy 1948:259ff. Demosthenes also learns from this disaster how dangerous it is to press on into enemy territory without waiting for support, or without a set escape route. He remedies these problems in his next campaign. Roisman 1993:27 comments, “But Demosthenes had other lessons to learn in Aetolia, such as the dangers of overambitious goals and convoluted plans, the inability of a surprise attack to overcome problems of deficient intelligence and manpower, and the commander’s duty to be sensitive to the cost in human lives. Of these lessons, Demosthenes seems to have heeded only the last.” The following narrative suggests to me that Demosthenes learned every one of these lessons, though he does seem to show a liking for convoluted plans. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 8 third battle.5 7 Demosthenes learns a strategy that is effective in subsequent engagements, especially in Akamania and at Pylos.3 8 The battles following the Aitolian disaster, at Olpai and Idomene, illustrate Demosthenes’ learning curve. An indication of Demosthenes’ knowledge and experience early in his career can be found in the reference to the Ozolian Lokrians at 3.95.3. Thucydides suggests that Demosthenes has correct instincts in joining with this force: ovtes y a p opopoi toT s AItcoX oT s xai opooKeuoi ueydAq cbcpEXia eSokouv sTvai ^uarpaTEUovTES paxTlS TE EliTTEipi'g xfjs e k e i'ucou Kai xcopi'cov (“They were neighbors of the Aitolians and appeared to be of great help if they joined the expedition through their knowledge both of the enemy’s method of fighting and terrain”). These words give the historian’s retrospective analysis. They may also, on an implicit level, represent the general’s own thinking. However, the narrative of the Aitolian disaster 5 7 The general can never have complete confidence in his knowledge, because strategy may be wiped out by an act of tyche, and it must always stay ahead of the enemy. 5 8 The most important reason for Demosthenes’ success is that he learns which conditions make hoplites relatively ineffective. Most of the enemies Demosthenes confronts are still entrenched in the conviction that hoplites are the best human fighters. Demosthenes gains his successes by applying this advantage. Demosthenes’ relatively superior knowledge establishes his military expertise in the same way as Patrai establishes Phormion’s naval expertise. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 9 9 shows that Demosthenes does not as yet understand the real importance of knowing the enemy, nor does he know how to fight in this terrain. This quotation does not contain double focalization, since the narrator’s view is not identical with the view of the character. But Demosthenes clearly does come to recognize the importance of these factors. In the campaigns at Akamania and Pylos, Demosthenes makes great use of locals, especially Messenians, who know the terrain and language of the enemy. At Olpai he makes effective use of light armed troops against a very large combined force of Spartan hoplites and Amphilochian troops. The section of prebattle analysis (3.107.3) shows Demosthenes preparing advantages derived from his experience.5 9 The armies are set across a ravine, and he sets a hidden detachment to take the enemy in the rear. De Romilly has again set out the internal correspondences between planning and events, emphasizing the role of rational prediction. Demosthenes makes use of local people’s knowledge in finding a location for his hidden relief force.6 0 It is this force that cuts 5 9 Demosthenes’ plan is the result of his concerns about an overlapping wing of the enemy (Sei'aas (if) KuicAco0fj: 3.107.3) which threatens in the battle (ekukAouvto t o Be^iov: 3.108.1). He responds with a mixed force of 400 hoplites and light armed troops, set in ambush to take the enemy in the rear (kcitcx vcotou yiyvcovTai . . . K ccTcx vcotou TTpooTnnTouau 3.107.3, 3.108.1). 6 0 Like Aitolia, the battle of Olpai contains a significant number of verbal references to the Stratian campaign (2.80-81). The Stratians make use of local knowledge in R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 0 down the strongest wing of the Spartans and tums the whole army to flight. This engagement shows how tactics learned from previous campaigns can be effective in different situations. While in the last campaign his thoughts were dominated by the Messenians, here he is able to make his thoughts control events. Demosthenes follows up the victory at Olpai with a success at Idomene. Here he makes crucial use of local informants who warn him of the approach of a fresh Amphilochian army. Thucydides’ narrative shows Demosthenes supremely in control of events. The vocabulary in the passage establishes a strong contrast between Demosthenes’ vision and foresight against the enemy’s ignorance and blindness.6 1 The defending their town against the Spartan force in Amphilochia. The Akamanians’ successful ambush of the Ghaonians at their own capital city of Stratos is described at 2.81.5. Crucial words in this account, such as prolochizousi, enedrciis, and prospiptousin, recur in the battle at Olpai (lochizei: 3.107.3; ek tes enedras . . . prospiptousi: 3.108.1). The tactic of setting troops in the hills round a town is very reminiscent of the Aitolian defense of Aigition. 6 1 There are no explicit references to Demosthenes’ prebattle planning in the Idomene narrative; however, there are many implicit ones. Thucydides attributes the significant tactical moves to Demosthenes, and does not imply that he makes them by accident. These quotations contain vocabulary for cognition and speedy action. These words suggest Demosthenes’ responsibility for tactical moves, and imply that they are the result of intelligence. The concentration of words with the prefix pro lays special emphasis on his foresight. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 1 tactic used here goes some way beyond the role conceived for the Ozolian Lokrians, but can be seen as a development of it. On this occasion, some Messenians use their similarity in dialect to pretend to be friendly soldiers; they enter the enemy’s camp while the enemy is still in bed. This engagement forms the culmination of a set of tactics which have been built up within the Demosthenes narrative. Thucydides has already shown the reader the importance of using local people: they know the terrain, the enemy’s dialect, and their method of fighting. At Olpai and Idomene Demosthenes First, Demosthenes makes a secret agreement to let the Peloponnesians retreat in safety: d vaxcop rjaiv 8e ek hev t o u Trp0 9 a v o u £ ouk EattEiaauTO orrraai. Kputpa 8e A riuoa0evris pExd tg o v £ u a x p a x f|y c o v ’A K ap vavcov o ttev S o v tcii . . . (BouXopevog (3.109.2). Discussing this last passage, Westlake 1968:104 n.l observes: ‘The plural main verb ottevB ovtcci followed by the singular participles (SouAopevos and xpoCCJU suggests in a characteristically Thucydidean manner that, while the Acamanians were jointly responsible with Demosthenes, the plan was his.” Second, Demosthenes issues an order to occupy the roads and the naturally strong locations: ko' i ttepttei eu0u$ tou crrpaT ou UEpo$ ti x a $ oSou$ TTpoAoxiouvTas Kai tcc K a p x sp a TrpoKaxaXrivpopEvoug, Kai xfj aAAq a x p a T ia a p a TrapEOKEud^Exo (3or|0ETu ett a u x o u j (3.110.2). This force occupies the higher of the two hills at Idomene, escaping the notice of the enemy on the lower hill: oi TrpoatroaxaXEvxEj u tto t o u A r|poa0Evous a ir o x o u axpaxoiT E Sou EXa0ou xe Kai E 9 0 a a a v (3.112.1). Third, Demosthenes sends out Messenians who share the same language as the enemy, pretending to be friendly soldiers: xouj MEaoriuioug Trpcbxou^ ett(xti8e5 o ATiuoo0Evr|s u p o u x a ^ e Kai TrpoaayopEUEiv ekeXeue (3.112.4). In addition, Thucydides explicitly notes the relative ignorance and blindness of the enemy, implying that Demosthenes is the opposite: siSoxag ou8ev tc o v yEyEvripEvcov (3.110.1), EXa0ou (3.112.1), ou tipoinaOripEvois x a yEyevripeva (3.112.3), o u Ka0opcopiEvous xfj 0 9 E I vukxo^ e t i ouaris (3.112.4). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 2 shows that he has learned how to use surprise and encircling maneuvers; these tactics contrast with the frontal attack usual in hoplite warfare. In the next section I show how Demosthenes uses these lessons throughout his career. One of de Romilly’s main contentions is that the battle narratives have a didactic function (1956:169-73). She regards thorubos as the crucial determining factor in Thucydides’ battles. Thorubos is the chaos which leads inevitably to defeat; it may result from the victors’ calculations, from chance, or from the victims’ disorder. De Romilly suggests that Thucydides is showing how to instill thorubos in the enemy without becoming victim to it oneself (1956:173). I believe that this thesis could be extended on a more particular level. That is to say, Thucydides provides lessons about the effectiveness of specific maneuvers in producing chaos and defeat; he implies that planning with foresight is necessary but not sufficient to produce it. The second extended verbal reminiscence in the Demosthenes narrative, the flight of the Amprakiot soldiers from Idomene, illustrates the way operational expertise R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 3 works. This description corresponds very closely the description of Demosthenes’ chaotic retreat from Aitolia (3.98.2-3):6 2 C OS O U V E T T E T T E O E T C p aTpaTEUpaTl aUTG DV, TpETTOUai, Kai TOU$ |iE V iroAAous auxou 8 iE 9 0 Eipav, oi 8 e Aoittoi <aTa x a opr| e$ q>uyf)v cbppriaav. TrpOKaTEiXriunEvcov 8 e xcbv o 8 cbv, Kai a p a xcbv pev 'An9 iX6 xcov EptrEipcov ovxcov xfjs eauxcbv yfjs Kai vpiAdbv TTpog oxrXiTaj, rcov 8 e atrsipcov Kai avETTiaTTipovcov otttq xpaTrcovTai, eamTrxovxes e$ te x a P“ 5 p a 5 Kai x a s ttpoAeAoxiopevccs cvsSpas 8 iE 9 0 e(povxo. Kai e$ TTaaav i8 eav x coP0 aaVTES T0 S < P uyOS Expatrovxo tives Kai E g xfiv 0 dX aaaav ou ttoAu diTEXouaav. Kai cbj eTSov x a j ’AxxiKag vau s irapaTrXEOuaas a p a t o u Epyou xfj ^ u vxuxia. TrpoaEVEuaav. fiyriaapevoi ev xcb auxiK a 9 o(3cp KpElaaov slvai 0 9 (0 0 ; uxro tcov ev xalg vauaiv. ei SeT. 8 ia 9 0 apfjvai t) utto xcbv ( 3 ap(3apcov Kai ex 9 (otgov ’A p9 iA6 xcov. oi pev ouv ’AptrpaKicbxai xoiouxcp xpoircp kokcoSevtes oX iyoi a n o TroXXcbv Eaco0r|aav £9 xtiv ttoA iv 6 2 Most immediately striking among the verbal parallels is the phrase £9 T r a o a v 18£av X c o p f |a a v x E 5 xfjs 9 uyfjs, which recalls T r a o a t e i 8 £ a K a x E O T T i xfjs 9 uyfj<; at 3.98.3; perhaps more intriguing is the previous sentence in the present passage. All the adverse conditions experienced by the victims correspond exactly to the sufferings during the Aitolian disaster. These correspondences cover crucial factors in the retreat: knowledge and ignorance of the terrain (xcbv p £ v ’Ap9 iAoxoov E pT T Ei'pcov . . . x c b v 8s a i T E i p c o v ~ x c o p f a o u k r j a a v s p u E i p o t : 3.98.1); the uneven pursuit (^iXcbv n p o g o n X i x a ^ ~ 7 T o8cbK E is K a i 91X 01: 3.98.2); hopeless blundering ( £ o t t ( t t t o v t e $ e$ x e x o p o S p a g K a i x a $ T T p o X E X o x i o p e v a s £ v £ 5 p a $ ~ e o t t i ' t t t o v t e s e$ x e X0tp d 8p a s avEKpaxous: 3.98.1). The reference to the occupation of the roads, recalling the Athenians’ critical difficulty in finding the road at 3.98.2, also picks up 3.110.2. Roisman (1993:31) comments: “Luck was also on his side; forces that had been sent to check the Amprakiots’ advance ended up blocking up their escape route (3.110.2, 112.6).” The parallelisms in the passage, and the comments I have made earlier about the sound provisions made by Demosthenes all suggest to me that the success is the result of calculation rather than luck. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 4 In this way he routed their army as soon as he attacked it, slaying most of them where they were, the rest breaking away in flight over the hills. The roads, however, were already occupied, and while the Amphilochians knew their own country, the Ambraciots were ignorant of it and could not tell which way to turn, and had also heavy armour as against a light armed enemy, and so fell into ravines and into the ambushes which had been set for them, and perished there. In their manifold efforts to escape some even turned to the sea, which was not far off, and seeing the Athenian ships coasting along shore just while the action was going on, swam off to them, thinking it better in the panic they were in, to perish, if perish they must, by the hands of the Athenians, than by those of the barbarous and detested Amphilochians. Of the large Ambraciot force destroyed in this manner, a few only reached the city in safety; while the Acamanians, after stripping the dead and setting up a trophy, returned to Argos. 3.112.5-8, tr. Crawley In this passage Thucydides substantially reproduces the wording of the retreat from Aitolia.6 3 In repeating the description of chaos and disorder, Thucydides establishes a parallelism between Idomene and the Aitolian disaster. Demosthenes, previously the victim, is now the victor; he now seems able to control the forces which previously controlled him. This passage provides a clear example of Thucydides’ technique of narrative shaping. Both passages present the victims caught in a seemingly ineluctable web of disadvantage. However, as I suggested in discussing the Naupaktos engagement, 6 3 “Man mochte annehmen, da{3 der Historiker auf vergleichung beider Schlachtbeschreibungen durch den Leser rechnet” (Stahl 1966:133). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 105 the victims themselves construct this impression. Every avenue for escape seems to be closed off. However, in both cases the current disaster is not in fact inevitable; it has resulted from previous mistakes. Even if at this moment the victims cannot possibly escape, they could have escaped to safety, or even won, with better knowledge of the enemy. While de Romilly argues for the importance of producing thorubos, it seems that the chaos and disorder here is the result of defeat, and not its cause. In my view, we need to advance a more particular and specific explanation for victory in Thucydidean battles. According to my argument, Demosthenes’ method for producing victory is to apply a set of specific and appropriate strategies, which are themselves the product of operational expertise. Demosthenes shows at Idomene that he has learned from the defeat at Aitolia. The Aitolian disaster has trained him in the appropriate strategies for these fighting conditions: he now makes use of locals who know the terrain, he uses light armed troops who can move much faster than hoplites, he sets ambushes, and he seals off escape routes. Demosthenes applies these lessons at Idomene to gain a stunning and complete victory. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 106 Stahl comments that the above passage constitutes a reversal of the situation in Aitolia (1966:133). This observation is profoundly true in four main ways, all of which lie in the minds of participants in the narrative. The first view is the general’s. As I argued above, Demosthenes has come to appreciate strategies previously used against him, and now knows how to use them effectively against others. The second kind of reversal, which Stahl points out, is an emotional view shared by the general and the Athenians back home. They regard the victory at Idomene as an atonement for the earlier defeat.6 4 Thucydides emphasizes the importance of this emotional reversal: he notes Demosthenes’ reluctance to go home after Aitolia, and his greater confidence in returning after the Akamania campaign (3.98.5, 3.113.6). I have shown that while Thucydides does criticize Demosthenes for the defeat, despite all the other factors that contributed to it, he also implicitly praises Demosthenes for the victory at Idomene. 6 4 Demosthenes only goes home when he thinks the assembly will be pleased with him: Demosthenes [stayed] behind in Naupactus and in the neighborhood, being afraid to face the Athenians after the [Aitolian] disaster. [Demosthenes’] return to his country after the Aetolian disaster being rendered less hazardous by this exploit [at Idomene]. 3.98.6, 3.114.1, trs. by Crawley R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 107 A third way of looking at this reversal would be to consider the soldiers’ focalization. The web of disadvantages, I have argued, represents the situation as it appears to the victims. The passage contains an excellent example of free indirect discourse: the victims prefer to be killed by the Athenians on the ships rather than by the “barbarous and detested Amphilochians.”6 5 Thucydides is not saying that the Amphilochians actually are barbarous.6 6 By using two words with judgmental force, “barbarous” and “detested,” Thucydides clearly adopts the view of the defeated Amprakiots. The words in FID express characters’ thoughts in implicit embedded focalization. The question of focalization brings up an important factor which is common to both passages, namely tyche.6 1 In the earlier passage Chromon, the 6 5 This clause is an instance of free indirect discourse or FID (3.112.7). However the focalization is in fact explicit, because it is marked with accusative-infinitive syntax. Nevertheless, these words represent the judgments of the actors and not those of the historian. Except in some extended reported speeches, it is up to the narrator to choose the words which represent the characters speech or thoughts. But in cases of FID, the narrator implicitly confers responsibility for certain words onto the character. Thucydides is representing the situation as these characters might have described it themselves. 6 6 However, Thucydides does spread the rumor that the Eurytanians eat raw flesh: 3.94.5. 6 7 It has been well pointed out that the verb tunchand sometimes connotes mere simultaneity, rather than its stronger interpretation as chance or unpredictability. (See Gomme HCT vol.3 ad 4.41.4, arguing against Comford 1908:82-3). To construe it as R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 8 Messenian guide, happened to be dead (etunchane tethnekos: 3.98.1). In this passage, Thucydides mentions the appearance of the Athenian ships as a coincidence (xyntychia: 3.112.8). Few of the references to tyche in Thucydides refer to massive forces that help or destroy men’s plans. The instances I have given so far refer to smaller events and personal interpretations. These instances of tyche vocabulary in fact represent sudden realizations by characters. I pointed out in the Patrai narrative that the events correspond closely to Phormion’s intentions, while the Spartan generals interpret sudden events like the wind as matters of chance. We can see a similar effect in these passages. In Aitolia, Demosthenes’ soldiers suddenly realize that Chromon is dead, and along with him has gone one of the best chances for escape (3.98.1). This realization contributes directly to the panic and chaos.6 8 Thucydides represents this realization in the narrative as a stroke mere simultaneity in this passage would miss the specific impact this event has on the defeated soldiers. 6 8 After this event, the soldiers have no one to lead them safely out of Aigition without falling into ambushes, and so Chromon’s death produces one of the great disadvantages in the retreat. The narrative however associates his death directly with the soldiers’ panic; it is Thucydides’ manner to represent an event in the narrative only when characters realize that it is critical. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 0 9 of tyche because it has the same emotional impact as a massive storm or some other force of nature. At Idomene, the xyntychia occurs at the end of the list of disadvantages. Thucydides has presented the situation as if the soldiers have nowhere to go except to the sea. After struggling through ravines, tripping over equipment, finding roads closed off, and suffering massive losses, the men think that the sea might bring them salvation- -until they see enemy ships. It is a sign of the soldiers’ desperation that they still prefer to swim for it rather than die at the Amphilochians’ hands. This event could not really be described as an act of chance. Obviously, Demosthenes intended to have naval support nearby, to give his own soldiers mobility if nothing else. But in the eyes of the defeated soldiers, the appearance of the Athenian ships is interpreted as a matter of chance.6 9 In both instances Thucydides adopts the perspective of the defeated soldiers. The focalization of tyche here recalls the view of tyche taken by the Peloponnesian commanders at Naupaktos (2.87.1). Focalized tyche is directly linked to characters’ defeat. On each occasion, the victim has been defeated by superior knowledge and strategy, and by tactics which are particularly appropriate to the circumstances. The 6 9 It is somewhat paradoxical that the realization should be described by the word xyntychia, which often connotes good fortune (cf. 1.33.1). To the Amprakiot soldiers, it is in fact fortunate to be killed by the Athenians rather than by all the other means they have just escaped. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 110 victim has been defeated precisely because he does not have this knowledge; this is also why he sees a sudden downturn as an act of tyche. Phormion’s observation that fear depends on the unknown turns out to be profoundly true. Successful generals are those who can keep important elements hidden from the enemy and use those elements at crucial moments. A fourth view of this reversal lies in the opinion of the historian. At the end of a significant block of narrative, Thucydides characteristically inserts some commentary in propria persona.7 0 After the Aitolian disaster, Thucydides comments about the 120 victims: “with respect to their number and their quality, these were the best men who died in [the Archidamian] war” (3.98.4). Westlake 1968:101-2 takes this comment as explicit criticism of Demosthenes, and an assertion that Demosthenes was defeated because of his own errors. This appears the most obvious interpretation of the passage: it seems unlikely that Thucydides is blaming the vagaries of chance for wasting 120 lives. But, as I have argued above, the comment is bound up with Thucydides’ ideas about men’s capacity to predict and control events. While Thucydides recognizes the 7 0 The most famous of these “closing off statements” is Thucydides’ comment at the end of the Sicilian expedition: ‘This ergon was the greatest of all the ones that happened during this war” (7.87.5). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. I l l importance of those other factors, and while he is scrupulously fair about not expecting a character to know things which are only revealed afterwards, Thucydides still regards the defeated general as responsible for the defeat. It is the general’s job to produce military victories when necessary. Demosthenes failed in the Aitolian expedition, and was lucky to get the opportunity to redeem himself later. The victory at Idomene prompts another extended editorial statement from Thucydides about the destruction caused by this battle.7 1 In this instance, however, Thucydides goes on to make an assertion about another possible course of events: ’ApnTpaKiav pevTot o !8 a o n . ei E(3ouAf|0riaav ’A xapvavsj teat 'ApqnAoxoi ’A0riva(ois Kai Ar|poa0EVEi TTEi0o|iEvoi e^ eA e T v, aurofioEi a v e T A ov (“But I know that if the Akamanians and Amphilochians had been willing to be persuaded by Demosthenes to attack Amprakia, they would have taken it without resistance”: 3.113.6). Demosthenes did try to persuade the Akamanians and the Amphilochians to invade Amprakia, but he was unsuccessful since they were afraid of Athenian domination. The slaughter at Idomene shows how difficult it is for the people in Akamania to communicate with each other. It is very 7 1 Thucydides’ comment about Idomene is remarkably similar to the one about Sicily: ‘This was the greatest disaster that happened to a single city in such a short time during the war” (3.113.6). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 112 dangerous to offer aid to another force in enemy territory.7 2 But in the statement above, Thucydides seems to put aside such an argument. The victory at Idomene does not make Thucydides change his mind about Aitolia, but it does seem to deepen his earlier opinions. Clearly, Thucydides seems moved by the number of men who died on each side during these campaigns. But Idomene also makes Thucydides reconsider specific judgments. Perhaps, for example, the Messenians were right about one thing. The Messenians attempted to persuade Demosthenes to invade Aitolia Ttpiv £up(3or|0fiaai. before the enemy could get together to resist Demosthenes (3.94.4). Speedy action is condemned as impetuosity when it fails. But Demosthenes also acts speedily in all of his successes. The main argument of this chapter is that Thucydides is not primarily interested in knowing retrospectively what would have been the right course of action to take in a specific situation. Instead, Thucydides wants to know how intelligent commanders such as Demosthenes build up knowledge from specific engagements into a coherent body of 7 2 The force of Amprakiots from the city (3.110.1) are responding to the first call for relief (£Tn(3or]0E!v) from Olpai, which presumably occurred several days before, since there were five days of inactivity before the battle at Olpai (3.107.3). I have pointed out above how Demosthenes is able to move faster and see further than the enemy; as a result, he is able to keep the army from joining together. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 113 military expertise. I have argued that Demosthenes is able to analyze the reasons for an earlier defeat, and to visit a very similar defeat on a new set of enemies. Demosthenes is successful because the enemy is as ignorant as he was before. The following section describes the various lessons Demosthenes has learned through these early campaigns, and how he applies them throughout his career. Demosthenes has become, like Phormion, a practitioner of operational expertise. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 114 Part Three: Demosthenes and Operational Expertise According to the argument so far, Thucydides is performing two distinct operations in the narrative of the earlier part of Demosthenes’ career. First, he shows how Demosthenes learns from his experience of various battles in difficult conditions; and second, he gives the reader a measure of knowledge about the type of military thinking that is necessary in those engagements. This learning is not essentially retrospective; Thucydides does not want to dissect past engagements to find out what went wrong. He is more interested in producing a kind of expertise that is applicable to many potential future engagements. Thucydides does not claim that men’s intelligence can make them invulnerable. However, he suggests that the characters who are more willing to learn from experience are generally speaking more likely to be successful. In the next section I show that this type of learning serves Demosthenes quite well in his career. I argue ultimately that Thucydides encourages the reader to gain insight about Demosthenes’ learning within its particular context, since that type of military learning can be applied to his or her own experience. Overleaf I have made a table, which presents Demosthenes’ characteristic tactics over the course of his career. I have mentioned some of the material of this table in the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 115 main text and the footnotes of the previous section. And I have extended its scope from book three, through the Pylos campaign in book four, to Demosthenes’ final campaign in Sicily in book seven. This table covers the major campaigns of Demosthenes’ career. For the sake of clarity I pass over a couple of minor episodes which involve him. The table suggests that during the Pylos campaign, Demosthenes uses all of the specific tactics which he learned to practice in the campaigns in book three. Moreover, he still practices them over ten years later in the night battle on Epipolai. This time those strategies do not work. It is crucial to realize that in Sicily Demosthenes practices what he has learned in the past. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Tabic #1: Demosthenes’ tactics over the course o f his career Tactic Aitolia. Olpai Idomene Fvlos Sicilv dialects 3.95.3 - 3.112.4 4.3.3,4.41.2, [[7.44.7]] locals [3.98.2] 3.107.3,3.108.2, 3.112.6 4.29.4,4.36.1 7.42.4-5,7.43.3 light armed 3.97.2,3.98.1-2 3.107.3, 3.112.6 4.32.4-33.2 [7.42.6,7.84.1] surprise - - 3.112.4 4.32.1 7.43.2 swiftness 3.96.2 3.108.1 - 4.32.1 7.43.1 rear attack - 3.107.3,3.108.1 - 4.32.3-4,4.36.1 - Tire [3.98.2] - - 4.30.2 - chaos [3.98.3] 3.108.3 3.112.7 4.34.2-3 [7.43.7-7.44.8] Notes on table #1: Brackets indicate that this tactic was used successfully against Demosthenes. Double brackets mean that the tactic used by Demosthenes backfires on him. The tactical categories are as follows: dialects Use of Messenian or Doric dialects to confuse the enemy. locals Use of locals who know the terrain and local tactics. light armed - Use of javelin-throwers, peltasts, and slingers. surprise Making a surprise attack at night or dawn. swiftness Swiftness of attack. rear attack Posting a detachment to take the enemy in the rear. fire Setting fire to bushes. chaos Resulting chaos and defeat of the enemy. 116 Reproduced with permission o f th e copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 1 7 This table should not be regarded simply as a collection of references to particular human actions on particular occasions. In this section, I argue that if vve look at the verbal correspondences over the course of Demosthenes’ career, and if we compare them with the strategies of other intelligent commanders like Phormion, we can build up a coherent picture of operational expertise. Each of these strategies is indeed tied precisely to a specific situation and occasion, and we should not lose sight of that particularity. However, each tactic carries a general significance as well, in that it represents the application of learning and experience from the past. Each of Demosthenes’ strategies carries a powerful analysis of the crucial factors in a situation, and of the appropriate response to them. On each occasion, Demosthenes has to take into account the size and equipment of the enemy, the geographical and meteorological conditions, and the enemy’s level of expertise. As I have indicated in my analysis of the Phormion’s naval battles, and in the analysis of Demosthenes’ early campaigns, it emerges that the third factor, the enemy’s level of knowledge, is the most important determinant of a given battle. In chapter two, I present Brasidas as an expert in the second kind of cognition, psychological expertise, which involves the ability to work out the way other people think about situations and how they intend to act whether they R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 1 8 are friends or enemies. Operational expertise, however, is tied much more closely to the requirements of a single battle. Thucydides presents generals like Phormion and Demosthenes planning in great detail; however, that planning very rarely looks further into the future than an imminent engagement. But even if the general with operational expertise is blinkered in the sense that he looks only at the short term future, his planning can be extremely powerful, and it can be applied to other situations. Verbal correspondences recall earlier episodes for the reader, and at the same time represent the intelligent character’s memory of previous engagements. Such references do not of course work in quite the same way for the reader as for the general.7 3 The intelligent general can sense that a particular tactic would be correct in a given situation, but he cannot be sure of it until afterwards. That is to say, references between prebattle analysis and the events inevitably give the reader an ironic perspective on events, because the reader knows the results when a character does not. But references between battles can allow the general the same level of knowledge as the 7 3 For the reader, verbal correspondences may operate between the prebattle analysis and the events of a battle, or between one battle and another. The table focuses on correspondences between battles; the material comes from the battle narratives themselves, not from the planning stages. This type of correspondence encourages the reader to compare one particular situation with another. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 119 narrator and reader. As I have suggested in my analysis of Phormion, Thucydides employs double focalization to represent a peak of tactical analysis. In these brief moments, which are restricted to the most intelligent commanders, the general’s view corresponds exactly to that of the historian. The verbal correspondences in the Aitolian narrative give the reader an ironic perspective on Demosthenes. As I have shown, this narrative implicitly compares Demosthenes to the rather unintelligent Spartan general Knemos. But Demosthenes is supreme in that he learns from his mistakes and builds sound strategy from experience. The verbal correspondences within the Akamanian narrative make this function clear to the reader.7 4 Indeed, the verbal references in Demosthenes’ earlier campaigns are so dense that they convey a sense of Thucydidean “optimism.” That is, they suggest that to a certain extent events can be controlled by human rationality.7 5 The idea that reasoning 7 4 The Akamanian narrative (3.107-3.112) incorporates the battles of Olpai and Idomene. 7 5 The classic work emphasizing the “optimistic” and “scientific” side of Thucydides is Cochrane 1928. Few scholars say nice things about this work any more. Stahl’s criticisms of Cochrane’s approach (1966:13-35) are very necessary; nevertheless, I believe that Stahl’s work underrates the importance of Thucydides’ assertion that studying past events is useful for looking at future events. In this dissertation I attempt, R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 120 can generate universally applicable laws from history has long been out of favor. This table however leads towards a more modest claim. By being sensitive to the function of specific factors in a given situation, taking into account their particular role and their general significance, intelligent people can produce success most of the time. Demosthenes knows how these strategies work in the field; but even when he is successful he cannot predict the precise course of events which will lead to success. Operational expertise gives Demosthenes instincts about which factors are most likely to determine success or failure. In the Pylos narrative, the critical battle starts only at 4.30, when the fire and a realization by Demosthenes transform the situation into a virtual repeat of the battle of Olpai. Until then, however, Thucydides’ narrative reflects the very improbability of the situation. Thucydides traces Demosthenes’ gradual realization of how to succeed in circumstances where even survival is a struggle.7 6 The narrative concentrates less on to an extent, to resurrect the optimistic side of Thucydides. But I distinguish it from the scientific view. In order to maintain Thucydides “optimism,” I do not believe that we need to put Thucydides in a laboratory and extract universal laws from his History. 7 6 In Amprakia Demosthenes’ lines of communication are reliable and the enemy acts in a reasonably predictable manner. He does not need to answer to his home city. Unless he produces a disaster, as at Aitolia, Demosthenes is given more or less free rein. In this R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 121 concrete events and more on individual perspectives of the situation. As the table attests, verbal parallels work to structure the narrative. However, focalization plays an equally large role. The Pylos narrative begins at a point which makes the eventual result seem especially unlikely. The two Athenian generals, Eurymedon and Sophokles, are sailing round the Peloponnese with the intention of going to Sicily. Demosthenes accompanies them, but he has not been elected general for that year. He is a private citizen (4.2.4), and accompanies them in an advisory role. The episode begins with an argument between these characters, which is presented in indirect discourse: K a\ cos e y e v o v r o ttA e o v t e s kcctcx Tqv AaKGoviKqv <ai ETTuv0dvovTO o n cxi vfjES ev KepKUpa q8r| e’ ioi t c o v TTEAoTTOvvriai'cov, o pev EupupEBcov K a i Ho<poKXfjs f)T T E iy o v T O es t t )v KspKupav, o 5 e Aripoa0Evris e s T q v TTuAov r r p c b T o v e k eA eue a x o v r a s a u T o u s K a i T r p d ^ a v r a s a SeT t o v ttA o u v TroiETa0ar dvTiAEyovxcov 5 e k q tcx t u x t i v x 51!-1^ ^ E T r iy E v o p E v o s K a x fjV E y K E campaign, Demosthenes has a large and willing army, mostly composed of allies who are less of a risk to Athens. He is the only general in the area, so the Akamanians have no choice but to come to him. In the Amprakia campaign he is doing what they want. There is friendly territory nearby, which would considerably ease the logistics of a campaign. At Pylos he is creating an isolated outpost in enemy territory, with a very small and ill equipped force; moreover, he is not even a strategos (4.2.4). As a result, he encounters resistance from the strategoi Sophokles and Eurymedon. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 122 r a g vaug ^5 T 1 1v TTuAov. Kai o Arm oa0Evr|g eu0ug ij^iou TEixiCeo0ai T° XcoPlou (etti t o u t o ycrp ^uvEKTrXeuaai). <al aiTE<paivE TroAAqv Euuopiau £uAcov te Kai Ai0cov, Kai 9 Uoei K aprspov ov Kai Epfjpov a u x o te Kai etti ttoAu xrjg x ^ P 0^ ' ccttexei y a p ax a8 io u g p d A ia x a rj TTuAog xfjs Z trapT rig TExpaKoaioug Kai eotiv ev xfj M Eaaqvia tto te ouaq yfj. KaXouai 5e auxriv oi AaKESainovioi Kopucpaaiov. oi 8e TroAAag Ecpaaav Elvai aK pag Epiipoug xfig TTEAoTrovvrjaou, tiv (3ouAriTai K axaA anpavcov xf]V ttoAiv Saxravav. xcp 8e Siaqsopov t i eSokei slvai to u to t o xcopiov ETEpou naAAov, AipEvog te TrpoaovTog Kai xoug M Eaar|v(oug oiKEioug o v x ag auxcp t o apxaT ov Kai ono9 cbvoug xolg AaKE8ai|aov(oig ttAeTot’ av (SAccttteiv eE , au x o u opucoiiEvoug, Kai (3E(3aioug a p a to u xcopiou 9uAaKag EOEo0ai. Off Laconia they heard that the Peloponnesian ships were already at Corcyra, upon which Eurymedon and Sophocles wished to hasten to the island, but Demosthenes required them first to touch at Pylos and do what was wanted there, before continuing their voyage. While they were making objections, a squall chanced to come on and carried the fleet into Pylos. Demosthenes at once urged them to fortify the place, it being for this that he had come on the voyage, and made them observe there was plenty of stone and timber on the spot, and that the place was strong by nature, and together with much of the country round unoccupied; Pylos, or Coryphasium, as the Lacedaemonians call it, being about forty five miles distant from Sparta, and situated in the old country of the Messenians. The commanders told him that there was no lack of desert headlands in Peloponnese if he wished to put the city to expense by occupying them. He, however, thought that this place was distinguished from others of the kind by having a harbour close by; while the Messenians, the old natives of the country, speaking the same dialect as the Lacedaemonians, could do them the greatest mischief by their incursions from it, and would at the same time be a trusty garrison. 4.3, tr. Crawley Thucydides uses this argument rather like the Messenian speech at 3.95, to present a choice of strategy. The generals want to go to Kerkyra, while Demosthenes wants to R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 2 3 stop at Pylos first. According to the narrative, this discussion is still going on when a fortuitous storm forces the fleet to rush for the shore at Pylos; the exchange turns into an argument about whether the Athenians can stay there. That storm, a classic stroke of tyche, happens to serve Demosthenes’ purpose: it more than makes up for his lack of authority as ididtes. But it would be wrong to say that the Athenians only end up in this situation because of the storm. First of all, Demosthenes has been intending to go to Pylos all along; second, he argues that the force should stay in the place and fortify it now that they are there. Thucydides presents us with two conflicting focalizations of the same situation: Demosthenes’ view and the generals’ view. Demosthenes has two arguments: the first is to remind the generals with the phrase c c 8eT (4.3.1) of the assembly’s mandate, which gives them freedom to act as they wish, as long as that action serves Athens’ interest.7 7 Demosthenes is convinced that that the best way to 7 7 For a general’s freedom of policy on campaign, see the discussion in Homblower 1983:121-122. However, generals might disagree among themselves, or with allies. Westlake 1968:103 n.2 comments that in the Olpai campaign Demosthenes does not appear to have had military or diplomatic authority over the local leaders. But locals have their uses. Busolt GG 2:1086 discusses the present passage, arguing that the local Messenians must have tipped Demosthenes off that this promontory was the best one of all those in the Peloponnese. The table suggests that this may be the case, but my argument about double focalization points to the conclusion that Demosthenes could well have selected this promontory for himself, just by assessing the potentialities of the situation. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 2 4 serve Athens is to occupy Pylos. His second argument points to the strategic potential of this location. The generals hold the different view that “there [is] no lack of desert headlands in Peloponnese if [you wish] to put the city to expense by occupying them.” This statement is designed to counter both of Demosthenes’ arguments at once. The generals do not see this place as any different from the rest, and they question whether they could justify the fortification to the Athenian assembly. In this dispute Thucydides clearly sympathizes with Demosthenes; the technique he uses to give Demosthenes a narratorial nod of approval is double focalization (2c). Two clauses in this passage may be classified as double focalization.7 8 In these cases the narrator’s view corresponds to the character’s view. The first instance is 7 8 The instances of double focalization in this passage both give geographical information typical of the narrator. They run as follows: atrexEi T&P a x a S io u g p a X ia x a f] TTuXog rfj$ Z irap T ris TETpaKoaious Kai e o t i v e v xrj MEaarivia t t o t e ouaq yfj, KaXouai 5 e auxqv oi AaKsSaipovioi Kopu9 aaiov. XipEvoj t e Trpoaovros Kai xou$ M e o o t iv i'o u s o i k e i o u s ovxag auxcp t o apxaTov Kai opocpcbvous xoTs AaKE8aipovioi$ t t X e T ox’ av pXatrxEiv e £ o u t o O oppcoiiEvouj, Kai (3E(3a(ou5 a p a xou x coPlo'- f cpuXaKag ioEoQai. 4.3.2, 4.3.3 There seems to be an ambiguity of focalization between the character and the narrator in the second of these clauses. In the second half of the sentence, Thucydides assumes the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 125 ccttex6 1 • • • Koputpdatov; this statement locates Pylos relative to Sparta, and at the same time suggests its isolation. In his military narratives, Thucydides characteristically inserts topological digressions in order to make the action, and the thinking behind it, clear to the reader. In particular, the clause KaXouai. .. Kopucpaaiov reads like a narrator’s insertion.7 9 However, the passage completes a sentence describing Demosthenes’ analysis, and moreover it substantiates Demosthenes’ argument. Demosthenes claims that this location is particularly good because it is both naturally defendable and isolated, so Spartan resistance would be both slow and difficult. point of view of Demosthenes in assessing the potential advantages of the Messenians. Thucydides represents the character’s argument as boethein . . . phylakas esesthai. The strategies of Demosthenes as attested in the table suggest strongly that Thucydides agrees with the argument. We should make determinations about focalization on the grounds of the content of a passage as well as its form. In this case, the sandwiched participial phrases might naturally seem part of the indirect discourse of the character, and therefore primarily his focalization. But the content suggests that Demosthenes is pointing to facts about the natural features of the place, which the generals Sophokles and Eurymedon can see as well as he can. But they cannot see the potential strategies which those natural features suggest to Demosthenes. 7 9 Many scholars have remarked on the way Thucydides tends to supply geographical information at the point in the narrative at which it becomes relevant, rather than at the beginning, for instance. What fewer have recognized, however, is that the criterion of relevance does not just correspond to intelligibility for the reader. He also uses this information to represent the focalization of a character. Thucydides as it were contracts out his geographical presentation to an intelligent character. I point out examples from 4.8 and 4.29 in the Pylos narrative, where Thucydides uses the vision of a character to describe the circumstances. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 2 6 Grammatically, the phrase looks like a narrator’s aside, but it serves to fill in the character’s view. So if Demosthenes did not in fact say those words (Thucydides could have put them in reported speech if Demosthenes had actually said them), Thucydides suggests that he is merely filling out information that was implicit in Demosthenes’ words. This topological statement is focalized by both the narrator and the character. The second passage, Xinevo^ . . . eoeaOai, describes Pylos’ natural advantages too. Since the phrase mostly contains reported speech, we can identify the focalizer as Demosthenes, the speaker. However, the phrase starts with a genitive absolute, which intrudes into the typical accusative-infinitive syntax of indirect speech, and leaves the question of focalization slightly open. The content of the passage fits Demosthenes’ vision particularly well. As the table above attests, Demosthenes characteristically uses local Messenian inhabitants. The reference to the harbor suggests the possibility of bringing supplies, and also recalls Demosthenes’ use of a navy offshore at Olpai (3.109.1). But at the same time, the passage functions in the same way as the phrase dtrdxEi • • • Kopu<pdaiov. Demosthenes is here giving just the same type of information Thucydides gives in his topographical digressions. So the phrase contains R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 127 the opposite kind of double focalization to the one noted above. In this case the explicit focalizer is Demosthenes, but on an implicit level Thucydides enters the focalization. Thucydides lets Demosthenes stand in for him at this point. These instances of double focalization, though they are syntactically different, both include the character and narrator. By sharing a focalization, Thucydides suggests a tight correspondence between his own retrospective analysis of the situation and Demosthenes’ contemporary analysis. The correspondence suggests that Thucydides thinks Demosthenes was exactly right. Moreover, the focalization extends to Demosthenes, but not to the other characters. All three of the commanders are looking at the same things, but only Demosthenes has insight into Pylos’ real strategic possibilities. Thucydides’ technique of double focalization attributes a whole dimension of military knowledge to Demosthenes. Specifically, he possesses the geographical knowledge which the historian characteristically reserves for himself. On a more general level, Demosthenes alone of the three Athenian commanders is able to look at the surroundings and identify potentially effective strategies. This ability corresponds to the meteorological expertise of Phormion: both show an awareness of how to harness R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 2 8 natural factors and make them counteract disadvantages such as inferiority in numbers. Generals with operational expertise can read an environment. The early stages of the Pylos narrative provide another counterexample to Demosthenes’ intelligence. Thucydides gives us some analysis by the Spartan generals too, and this analysis also concerns the relation between geography and strategy. Their plans are presented in indirect discourse. The generals are notably confident about the first plan, to attack Demosthenes’ stockade: eAtti^ovtes paSi'cos atpf|aEiv oiicoSoprina 8ia raxecov EipyaapEvov Kai avQpcoTrcov oAiycov e v o v t c o v (“hoping to capture with ease a fortification constructed in haste, and containing few men”: 4.8.4). This cognitive vocabulary refers back to other commanders’ analyses: elpizo refers to Phormion at Patrai and to the Spartans at Naupaktos, and rciidios refers to the Messenian speech. These words have another function: they summarize the motivation implicit in the rest of the phrase. The Spartan commanders justify their confident expectation with the words 8icc xaxecov E i p y a a p e v o v and av0pcbTTGOv oAiycov evovtcov. This phrase contains instances of free indirect discourse. Thucydides is adopting the character’s focalization, just as he does in the battle narratives of Patrai and Idomene. On those occasions, he presents surprising developments as acts of tyche, because that is how the characters perceived them. On R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 2 9 this occasion, he adopts the Spartan generals’ views about the quality of Demosthenes’ stockade and garrison. To be sure, the Spartan analysis is not all wrong; the narrative has in a sense confirmed these observations at 4.4. But in addition to judgment, these words also contain an emotive quality; the Spartan generals cannot bear the thought that so few men can hold out against them. The Spartans notice factors that are in full view, but the narrative undercuts their interpretation of them. In describing the Spartan generals’ second plan, to blockade the harbor, Thucydides inserts another of his topographical parentheses (4.8.6). Unlike the one presented by Demosthenes at 4.3.2-3, however, this parenthesis is clearly marked off from the generals’ own analysis. Thucydides’ topological insert is framed by the repetition of the word esplous. In this case, Thucydides does not use any syntactical or narratological techniques that might temporarily fuse the focalization of narrator and general. In comparison, Thucydides tends to place Demosthenes in charge of the narrative analysis to a much greater extent. Thucydides distances his analysis from that of the Spartan generals.8 0 He also distances himself from the victims of Phormion at 8 0 Thucydides treats Nikias in his expedition to Kythera just like the Spartan generals (4.53-57). Thucydides gives a topological parenthesis which seems to keep a great R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 0 Patrai, and from Demosthenes in Aitolia. Thucydides is clearly prejudiced towards commanders who he thinks are good ones, whose analysis he thinks is sound. This prejudice can be identified in Thucydides’ narrative presentation. Verbal correspondences between Demosthenes’ speech and the battle which follows (4.10-13) suggest that Demosthenes is supremely in control of events. Demosthenes is in a vulnerable position, in a hastily built fort, and he picks a force of just sixty hoplites and a few archers to defend the weakest point on the shore. Demosthenes’ one direct speech in the work is addressed to this force. One dominating theme unifies the speech: the word apobasis, or landing, occurs no less than nine times between the speech and the battle.8 1 The Athenians need to stop the enemy landing at all distance from the character’s own thoughts (4.53.1-4). The parenthesis merely describes the general’s objectives without really commenting on Nikias’ motivation and analysis. 8 1 The instances of apobasis in the speech and in the battle narrative are as follows: 4.9.2 TTEipdoeiv ccTro(3ai'vEiv . . . ea{3idaaa0ai 4.9.3 (3ia£ouEvois ff|v d-rrofJaaiv 4.10.3 (3ia£riTai. . . duo(3dvTEs 4.10.5 dTro(3aaiv . . . (3ia£otTo 4.11.4 (3ia£ouEVOi/s ttiv dTro(3aaiv 4.11.4 OKEiXavTag . . . dTTopdvTa^ 4.12.1 TTEipcbuEvos dtroPaivEiv 4.12.2 aS u varoi fjaav d7To(3fivai 4.12.3 AaKESainovi'ous • • • d7ro(3cavEiv R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 131 costs, because the force is heavily outnumbered. Demosthenes is in a similar situation to Phormion at Naupaktos: he can see that his force is vastly outnumbered, but he is able to see other factors that could determine the outcome. In the speech Demosthenes mentions both advantages and disadvantages. Demosthenes counts their position on land as an advantage that could potentially override all the other disadvantages of the situation. Demosthenes in fact makes explicit the tradeoff between inferior numbers and superior position by calling the Athenian position an “ally” (4.10.3).8 2 At 4.12.3, Thucydides confirms the accuracy of Demosthenes’ metaphor by remarking that the land (in Peloponnesian territory) is an “enemy” to the Spartans. This is an illustration of the rational calculations performed by Demosthenes. Demosthenes twice says that logismos is inappropriate, but this should not be taken as an indication that Demosthenes eschews calculation. Demosthenes makes clear that he is talking of the soldiers' version of logismos; that is, the soldiers should not consider just those factors 8 2 In another case of double focalization, both Demosthenes and Thucydides use this bold metaphor to compare the difficulty of landing with the Athenians’ numerical inferiority. The last of the above references to apobasis contains a paradoxical description of the Spartans’ land as their enemy (AaKeSatpovloug 8 e ek v e c o v t e kcc'i e$ xf)v Eaurcov TToXEUiav otfaav ett’ ’A0r|va(ous d-rro(3ai'vEiv). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 132 which are immediately before their eyes.8 3 The soldiers, like the Spartan generals and the other Athenian generals, only see immediately visible factors such as the discrepancy in numbers. Demosthenes gives an excellent example of the commander’s brand of logismos in this speech. The speech presents Demosthenes’ mind at work. We can identify two basic kinds of analysis performed by Demosthenes in this speech, and in other accounts of his battle planning. Both of these kinds of analysis concern potential future events, and so they show how Demosthenes predicts possibilities. The first kind is a disjunction, a w a y of considering the consequences of alternative courses of action. An example of such a disjunction in his speech is p e v o v t c o v psv qpcbv . . . utroxcopriaaai 8e (4.10.3). Demosthenes’ earlier campaigns also contain examples of this kind of disjunctive thinking; for example, the alternative strategies in the Aitolian campaign: e ! p q (So u Ao i v t o £uyxcopeTv, NainTccKTOv ETTavaxcopfjaas a x p a r E u a a i ucrrepov 8 3 Hunter 1973:68-9 rather wildly compares Demosthenes’ repudiation of logismos, (and the words aperiskeptds euelpis) with the famous words tolma alogistos at 3.82.4. She believes Demosthenes is acting in the same way as the conspirators at Kerkyra act once all rules of society and humanity have broken down. This association is entirely unwarranted. In the Pylos speech, Demosthenes makes a clear distinction between the appropriate attitude of the men and that of the commander, and signals this distinction with the words pr]5Eis upcov . .. sycb S e . R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 3 (3.96.2). The second kind o f analysis is more like a material condition. In this case, Demosthenes acknowledges that a goal rests upon the success of some prior event, but assumes success for the sake of argument.8 4 An example of this conditional type of thinking is r a ttAei'co opco irpog ripcov o v ra , rjv e0eAcopev te ptElvat (4.10.2). An earlier example can be found in his agreement with the Messenians’ arguments: f|v Kparf|cn3 airrcov. paSicog Kai t o aAAo ’Htteipcotikov t o TaUTQ 'A0r|va(oi9 npoaTroipaEiv (3.94.3). Even though the immature Demosthenes pays too little attention to the preliminary conditions, the combination of disjunctive and conditional modes of reasoning is essential to his pronoia. Roughly speaking, the conditional type of reasoning allows Demosthenes to move forwards in his calculations, while the disjunctive type covers other possibilities that emerge along the way. Demosthenes flirts with disaster when he devotes himself to the conditional type of reasoning and forgets about the disjunctive type. In this speech, Demosthenes uses both types. Demosthenes knows that with such a small force, he has to hold on to that vulnerable piece of shore; otherwise the whole force will be wiped out. We see the power of these modes of 8 4 This mental process is clearly more dangerous than the first. Roisman 1993:25-26 rightly points out that Thucydides presents Demosthenes as having a tendency to pile condition on condition in his planning towards a goal. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 4 reasoning in the tight correspondence between the speech and the narrative of the battle.8 5 All the same, however accomplished Demosthenes is as an analyst, he does seem to be wrestling with uncertainty, rather like Phormion at Naupaktos. The situation turns out to be delicately balanced between advantages and disadvantages for the Athenian force. Demosthenes does not try to predict the precise sequence of events that will lead to victory; instead, he is looking at a host of factors, only some of which are visible to his colleagues, and picks out the factors which he judges most important. Demosthenes’ arguments illustrate the structure of possibilities lying behind his eventual course of action. The point at which the Pylos situation shifts from its delicate balance, and comes down heavily in Demosthenes’ favor, is very clearly marked in the narrative. At 4.30.2 Thucydides describes a fortuitous fire which changes the situation completely. After the fire, the circumstances at Pylos resemble those at Olpai and Idomene; reminiscences of those campaigns come thick and fast in the text. The table shows that Demosthenes uses 8 5 Hunter 1973:67 sets out three correspondences between the speech and the narrative (9.2 ~ 11.2; 10.3 ~ 12.2; 10.4 ~ 11.3). This kind of reasoning is also very prominent in the accounts of Demosthenes’ analysis at 4.29-30. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 5 all his characteristic tactics to achieve a stunning victory.8 6 The situation now reveals a different set of possibilities, and Thucydides enlists Demosthenes’ view to contrast the circumstances before and after the fire. In the previous chapter, Thucydides gives a very detailed account of Demosthenes’ thinking: trpoTEpov pev y a p ouaqs auTfjg uAcoSouj e tt'i t o t t o A u Kai aTpi(3ou$ 5ia t t ] v aie'i epquiav e<po(3e T t o K a i T r p o g xcbv TroXeiiicov t o u t o Evopi^e paAAov e T v o i (“Beforehand, since the island was mostly wooded and without paths, because it had been always uninhabited, he was afraid and considered the enemy's position on the island to be in their favor”: 4.29.3). This passage seems to describe problems and considerations as they leap into Demosthenes’ head.8 7 These ratiocinations last for a significant stretch of text: about nine lines of OCT. Demosthenes almost seems to be choking on the number of different 8 6 Babut 1981 uses verbal correspondences between Demosthenes’ success at Pylos and Brasidas’ campaign in Thrace to argue that Thucydides has structured book four round the theme of human expertise and strategy. This ingenious argument largely ignores the verbal correspondences with book three. Babut’s case fits my analysis as long as we recognize that there are many different structures within Thucydides’ work. 8 7 Connor 1984:115 n.13 describes this passage as a quasi-stream-of-consciousness narrative. Such passages are relatively rare in Thucydides, and appear to be restricted to the more intelligent commanders. There are three extended passages tracing Demosthenes’ ratiocinations in Thucydides: this one at 4.29.2, the somewhat telepathic mental conversation with Brasidas outside Megara at 4.73 (extracted at the head of chapter two), and Demosthenes’ planning before the night battle on Epipolai at 7.42.2-3 (quoted below). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 6 possibilities.8 8 The fire removes most of these concerns from Demosthenes’ mind (4.30.3), and allows him to visualize a winning strategy. But even in a state of aporia at 4.29.2, Demosthenes demonstrates the same mental moves as in the direct speech.8 9 Demosthenes uses both the conditional and disjunctive modes of reasoning in this passage.9 0 Though Demosthenes cannot see his winning strategy yet, we can see his plans evolving.9 1 Demosthenes is uncertain about the size of the enemy’s force, about their tactical moves, and about how best to fight them. The fire changes all that; and it 8 8 The first part of this sentence contains some syntactical indeterminacy. Until we get to Ecpo(3eTTO, we might be forgiven for thinking that the geographical information comes from Thucydides himself. The sentence, like other topological parentheses, functions as a case of double focalization. Thucydides uses Demosthenes’ vision to perform his function as narrator. (Compare the argument at 4.3, discussed earlier in this section). 8 9 The passage contains many of Demosthenes’ characteristic strategic ideas; I have not included them in the table, however, because I restricted the table to battle narratives. 9 0 Demosthenes considers it a disadvantage, for instance, to be a larger fo r c e that is ignorant of the terrain. This reflection recalls the antithesis of E U T reipcov . . . d T T E ip cov in the web of disadvantage at 3.112.7 which we have seen Demosthenes creating so expertly. At the end of this section (4.30.1), Thucydides makes an explicit reference to Demosthenes’ experience at Aitolia; the reader may infer that his familiarity with the problems of fighting in wooded terrain works as a justification for delaying the attack. 9 1 This passage presents a hypothetical situation, whose disadvantages explain why Demosthenes did not offer battle. As a piece of hypothesis, it parallels the prospective parts of Phormion’s speech at 2.89.8. In both cases we get extended pieces of substantially incorrect, but powerfully intelligent, prospective analysis. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 7 makes Demosthenes’ plans take on a certain inevitability. Even a passage describing Demosthenes’ uncertainty possesses all the hallmarks of his intellectual analysis. The narrative of the final battle contains numerous references to Demosthenes’ previous campaigns.9 2 The general is now in his element, and he is able to pull off a 9 2 The table shows the parallels between the analysis and battle at Pylos, and Demosthenes’ earlier campaigns; the following are especially noteworthy: The Athenians overran the first guard post and immediately destroyed the men there, who were still in bed or trying to arm themselves. 4.32.1 ~ 3.112.4 Wherever [the enemy] went, he would have the enemy behind him, lightly armed, and the hardest of all to deal with, since the slings, arrows javelins stones and slings they were effective at long range and it was impossible to come to close quarters with them; for in running away they had the advantage in speed, and as soon as the pursuit was relaxed back they came again. 4.32.3 - 3.97.3 [Demosthenes] occupied the highest points of ground, with the object of causing the most difficulty for the enemy . . . .[The leader of the Messenians] creeping on wherever the precipices of the island permitted, and where the Lacedaemonians, trusting to the strength of the ground, kept no guard, succeeded after the greatest difficulty in getting round without their seeing him, and suddenly appeared on the high ground in their rear, to the dismay of the surprised enemy and the still greater joy of his expectant friends. 4.32.3,4.36.2-3.110.2, 112.1-3; trs. by Crawley R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. victory just as he did in Amprakia. It seems for the most part, then, that the Pylos narrative confirms the superiority of Demosthenes’ insight and reasoning, and shows him very much in control of events. In the Pylos campaign, the verbal reminiscences seem just to confirm Demosthenes’ expertise; they show him executing his master plan. They do not show him conceiving that plan. As I have argued above, verbal reminiscences show symptoms of operational expertise; they do not constitute operational expertise. This is why I have paid more attention to focalization in the above discussion. I argued that Thucydides uses focalization as a powerful tool for distinguishing the content of a character’s mind at a particular moment in time. In the Pylos narrative, Thucydides clearly presents Demosthenes as more intelligent than the other characters. Even when unexpected changes occur, like the storm and the fire, Demosthenes is the general who adjusts best to the new circumstances. He can read a whole military environment, and find the military possibilities that are hidden to most characters. This argument militates against claims that Thucydides has slighted Demosthenes in the Pylos narrative, by attributing to chance events which were in fact the product of the general’s intelligence. Thucydides does not actually use the word R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 3 9 tyche to describe the fire. But even if we consider the fire a stroke of tyche, we should also recognize the way Thucydides marks out Demosthenes’ operational expertise.9 3 Another interpretation of the role of tyche in the Pylos narrative presents itself. This interpretation is quite speculative, because it depends on inferences, and it requires me to cast suspicion on apparently factual statements in the text. However, the interpretation would seem to fit the argument I have laid out above. What if Demosthenes knows about the storm and the fire all along? Perhaps he is just as much a meteorological expert as Phormion, or perhaps he has learned about Peloponnesian weather patterns from the local Messenians. He knows that a storm is brewing as the Athenian fleet is passing Pylos. Thucydides tells us that Demosthenes already knows the strategic advantages of the place. Demosthenes suggests Pylos to the generals, and the weather forces them to take refuge there in any case. And the fire on Sphakteria is actually engineered by Demosthenes. The table shows that he has used fire in many 9 3 We might even suggest that Thucydides attributes the fire to tyche (rather than Demosthenes) in order to present intelligent analysis of a situation both before and after a critical and unforeseen event. Like Phormion at Naupaktos, Demosthenes demonstrates an ability to improvise once a situation has transformed itself. Demosthenes’ new strategy is set out at length at 4.32.3-4. Thucydides very clearly marks off this strategy from the rest of the narrative; it is framed by the words Arinoa0evous 5e Td^avxog and ro ia u rq peu yvcbpq o Ar|poa0Evr|$. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 0 similar situations in the past. The passage at 4.29.2 shows his inability to calculate with confidence, because he lacks sufficient information about the enemy. The solution is obvious. The Athenians think one of their own soldiers set the fire off as he was cooking his breakfast, but actually Demosthenes made one of the Messenians start the fire deliberately on the edge of the island. These instances of tyche represent the views of people who are taken quite by surprise at the events. These events are not, however, unpredictable to all characters. To Demosthenes, they are wholly intentional. For Thucydides, accidents do not count against human intelligence: the more intelligent characters make use of the opportunities that present themselves. Whether or not this interpretation is true, it should be clear that in these instances tyche plays a relatively small role within a complex set of events.9 4 The two acts of tyche, the storm and the fire, do not completely determine the outcome, even if the course of events would have been completely different without them. There are many points in the Pylos narrative in 9 4 Woodcock 1928:93-108 and Comford 1907:82-109 are especially critical of Thucydides’ account. Gomme //C m i.4 8 8 argues that chance played a relatively small role in the campaign: ‘T he only events that were really accidental were the storm (3.1, k c c tc c T u x f i v ) and the fire on the island; and in the latter case Thucydides makes this clear by c c k o v t o ^ and eAaSe— he does not use T u y x a v e i v . ” R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 141 which, but for a single event, the whole episode would have turned out differently. Most of those moments are controlled by intelligent individuals. I finish with a look at the Sicily narrative in book 7. More than ten years after Pylos, Demosthenes is still presented in the same way. He uses the same strategies and structures of reasoning as in his earlier campaigns. While his planning is not as extensive as at Pylos, he uses many of the same tactics he used to gain earlier successes. As soon as he arrives, Demosthenes provokes apprehension in the Syracusans and confidence in the Athenian soldiers (7.42.2). Thucydides moves straight into a revaluation of the situation from Demosthenes’ point of view; he shows that the general’s analytical qualities are still intact:9 5 9 S I discuss the underlined words in the passage below. This passage bears the same cognitive hallmarks of Demosthenes that I pointed out at 4.10 and 4.29.2: the word deinotatos suggests how he sees the situation in terms of advantages for the Athenian side, and towards the end of the passage we get examples of his tendency to pile conditions up (e i. . . kai authis) and his disjunctive thinking ( < ? gar . . . hexein . . . e apaxein). The point of disjunctive thinking is, of course, to cover all bases, but this example is notoriously far from being exhaustive. It bears a resemblance to the sentence quoted above at 3.96.2 about his alternative strategies in Aitolia: it is possible for neither disjunct to come true. For all that the analytical mind tries to cover all eventualities, reality has a knack of finding escape from the rational grip. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 2 o 8 e A r ||i o a 0 e v r |g iScbv cog eTxe x a T r p a y p a T a K a i v o p u a a g o u x o T o v t e e l u a i S i a T p i 'f J e i v o u 8 e x ra S e T v o x r e p o N iK i'a g E T ra 0 e v ( a 9 iK O |iE v o g y a p t o x r p c o T o v o N iK ia g 9<o[3E p6g. c o g o u k s u 0 u g T rp o aE K E iT O r a l g Z u p a K o u a a i g . a X X ' e v K a x a v q B ie x e ip c x C e v . uTTEpcbq>0r| T £ K a i e < p 0 a a E v a u r o v e k T fjg T T E X o iro v v fia o u O T p a T i a o r u X iT n r o g a ^ K O U E V o g , rjv o u 8 ’ a v piETETTEUvpav o i X u p a K o a i o i . eI EKElvog E u 0 u g e t t e k e i t o " iK a v o i y a p a u r o i o io p iE v o i E lv a i a n a t ’ a v E u a 0 o v q a a o u g o v T E g K a i a x r o T E T E ix ia p E v o i a v i* ja a v , c o o t e p r i S ’ ei liETETTEiivf/av e t i o p o i c o g a v a u T o u g c o 9 eX eT v), T a O r a o u v a v a a K O X T co v o A r |p o a 0 E v r |g , K a i y i y v c b a K c o v o t i K a i a i n r o g e v t c o x x a p o v T i r f j T rp c o T i^ r i n E p a p a X i a T a B E i v o T a x o g e o t i x o T g E v a v T io ig , e ( 3 o u X e t o o t i t c c x o s a T T C > x p f |a a a 0 a i T fj T r a p o u o q t o u o x p a T E U n a T o g E K T rX q^E i. K a i o p c o v t o x x a p a T E i'x ic x n a t c o v Z u p a K o a i c o v . cp E K c b X u a a v x r E p iT E ix tc ja i a 9 a g x o u g ’A 0 r ) v a ( o u g . a x r X o u v o v K a i . e ’ i K p a x q a E i E T ig t c o v t e 'E t t i t t o X c o v T fig a v a P a a E c o g K a i a c /0 ig t o u e v a u x a T g O T p a T o x x E S o u , p a S i c o g a v a u T O X r)90 EV ( o u S e y a p v rrro p E T v a i a v a 9 a g o u S e v o ) . rix x E iy e T o ETTi0EO0ai T fj x r E ip g , K a i o i £ u v T o p c o T d T r i v q y E T T o B i a T r o X E u q a i v q y a p K a T o p 0 c o a a g e £ e iv Z u p a K O U a a g , q a T r a ^ E iv T q v a x p a T i a v K a i o u T p i 9 E a 0 a i a X X c o g ’A O q v a i o u g t e x o u g ^ u a x p a T E U o q e v o u g K a i T q v £ u p T r a a a v tto X iv . Demosthenes, seeing how matters stood, felt that he could not drag on and fare as Nicias had done, who by wintering in Catana instead of at once attacking Syracuse had allowed the terror of his first arrival to evaporate in contempt, and had given time to Gylippus to arrive with a force from Peloponnese, which the Syracusans would never have sent for if he had attacked immediately; for they fancied that they were a match for him by themselves, and would not have discovered their inferiority until they were already invested, and even if they then sent for succors, they would no longer have been equally able to profit by their arrival. Recollecting this, and well aware that it was now on the first day after his arrival that he like Nicias was most formidable to the enemy, Demosthenes determined to lose no time in drawing the utmost profit from the consternation at the moment inspired by his army; and seeing that the counter wall of the Syracusans, which hindered the Athenians from investing them, was a single one, and that he who should become master of the way up to Epipolae, and afterwards of the camp there, would find no difficulty in taking it, as no one would even wait for his attack, made all haste to attempt the enterprise. This he took to be the shortest way of ending the war, as he would either succeed and take R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 3 Syracuse, or would lead back the armament instead of frittering away the lives of the Athenians engaged in the expedition and the resources of the country at large. 7.42.3-5, tr. Crawley This passage represents Demosthenes’ extended analysis of the situation, and contains a long parenthesis (aqnKoptevos . . . cbtpeAeTv) covering more than 7 lines of OCT. Thucydides usually uses such a device in order to present relevant information underlying the character’s thoughts. Thucydides uses this device for geographical information. In some cases, I have suggested that Thucydides presents information in this way because it was implicit in the generals’ words. A literal reading of this passage would suggest that Thucydides is the main focalizer.9 6 But the content of this parenthesis is not in any way neutral. Given the generals’ previous disputes, the parenthesis apparently takes up Demosthenes’ case. It does not mince words about what Nikias did wrong, and it also looks at the situation in the same way as Demosthenes has looked at many previous military situations. The whole passage, including the parenthesis, focuses on the way the Athenian threat has dwindled. When Demosthenes 9 6 The question of the point of view in this passage is an old one: does it represent the view of Thucydides or Demosthenes? Dover in HCT 4:419ff has argued from the nominative-finite syntax of the parenthesis that the parenthesis properly belongs to Thucydides. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 4 arrived, he added an element of threat because of his reputation. The focalizer for the word deinotatos is clearly Demosthenes. Calculating the enemy’s attitude, Demosthenes concludes that a force is most fearsome when it is new and strange. Like Phormion, he recognizes that fear arises from the unknown. The parenthesis obviously does represent Demosthenes’ thoughts on an implicit level.9 7 It constitutes a remarkably extended case of double focalization. Most previous instances of this narrative technique have been very short. Up to now Thucydides has suggested that generals’ “moments of clarity,” when their analysis corresponds precisely with the narrator’s, actually do just last for a moment. Thucydides confirms the very detailed retrospective part of the Demosthenes’ analysis by supporting it with an extended passage in his own voice. But Demosthenes’ analysis continues, shifting focus from the past to the future. If we look at the prospective parts of Demosthenes’ analysis, we see just how much harder it is to be correct about future events. The word raidids (together with an) represents the experienced general’s judgment about what is achievable in this situation. 9 7 Demosthenes’ focalization would be explicit if we could conclusively prove that the word tauta, straight after the parenthesis, refers precisely to the content of the parenthesis. But the word could be interpreted in other ways: it could skip over the parenthesis, or it could include other material as well as the parenthesis. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 5 However, the reader may also recall ironic uses of the word in the Messenians’ argument, and in the frustrated hopes of the Spartan generals. In this case, Demosthenes uses a characteristic pair of material conditions as grounds for this judgment: ei KpaTriaeie ti$ . . . Kai ai!/0t$. These arguments raise questions about the judgment raidids.m The prospective parts of this analysis set off warning signs for the reader, even though Demosthenes is using all his usual cognitive techniques. Despite these warnings, it would be hard to say that the battle of Epipolai is badly planned. Of course, with hindsight the battle looks like a catastrophe. However, in the section of prebattle planning, in the specific arrangements he makes at 7.43.1-2, and in the initial stages of the battle narrative, Demosthenes appears to be in top form. Only when we are familiar with Demosthenes’ previous successes and failures can we appreciate the full horror of the defeat on Epipolai. Everything that the reader has learned up to now suggests that we trust Demosthenes; it is hard to know what he 9 8 As we have seen, the conditional type of analysis is characteristic of Demosthenes. The conditional type of thinking is arguably the more dangerous. However, just below we find the disjunctive type of reasoning; Demosthenes employs it to justify the attempt on Epipolai. This time, however, the disjunction does not cover all the possibilities. Either they succeed and take Syracuse, or they sail back to Athens. Demosthenes never considers the possibility that the Athenians would not be able to escape. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 146 should have done differently. His plans exhibit haste, as he showed at Aitolia.‘ w However, as the table attests, haste is one of Demosthenes’ most successful techniques; and haste seems to be exactly what the present situation requires. Demosthenes is not advocating an unconsidered and uninformed rush at the enemy, as in Aitolia. Demosthenes’ analysis of events here has more in common with the direct speech at 4.10, when he encourages the soldiers to trust his judgment, and not to worry about the obvious disadvantages of the situation. We know how carefully Demosthenes balances the advantages and disadvantages of a situation. If anyone can pick out beforehand the crucial issue on which the battle will turn, Demosthenes is the one to do it. The Epipolai narrative is shaped like the beginning of the Aitolian campaign: most of the initial signs suggest that things are going well. As Demosthenes predicted, the Athenians escape the notice of the Syracusan guards, and take one fort. What is more, he correctly predicts the psychological effect of the unexpected attack on the enemy. The word EK'nEtrXriynEvoi (7.43.6) in the narrative picks up ek ttX h^ei (7.42.3) in Demosthenes’ analysis. All we have learned so far, the table, the verbal 99 o u k e t i e B o k e i 8 i a T p i ( 3 E i v ( 7 . 4 3 . 1 ) ; e u 0 u s . . . e u 0 u s . . . T r p o 0 u [ i c o s . . . e u 0 u $ ( 7 . 4 3 . 4 - 5 ) . R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 4 7 correspondences, the extended double focalization, the conditional and disjunctive analysis, suggests that Demosthenes should be in a winning position. But a complete reversal occurs. Several of the specific tactics mentioned in the table recoil back on the Athenians. The Athenians are advancing confidently but out of order, trying to catch the enemy as ill prepared as possible. A band of Boiotians put up unexpected resistance, and a sense of defeat seems to spread instantly among the Athenian troops. They are put to flight. The Athenians virtually reenact on land the Spartan defeat at Naupaktos.1 0 0 Now the emotional recognition of defeat, the ekplexis, turns upon the Athenians; a seemingly victorious ataxia becomes a defeat and a retreat in tarache. Just before the cusp of the narrative, while the soldiers are still eagerly moving through the enemy, Thucydides makes a reference to Demosthenes’ analysis (hod tachos: 7.42.3), and also to the fateful advice of the Messenians at Aitolia (ienai. . . hod tachista: 3.97). Chapter 7.44 describes the chaotic Athenian retreat as an ineluctable web of disadvantage, just like the one devised by Demosthenes at 1 0 0 See above, notes 23 and 32 for the verbal parallels to the situation at Naupaktos, and for the connection of disorder, ekplexis, and defeat. The way the sense of disorientation and fear spreads through the army was exemplified at Olpai (3.108.1). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Idomene.1 0 1 At the head of the list of Athenian disadvantages comes the catastrophic paian of the Dorian troops fighting on the Athenian side; they stir as much fear in the Athenians as the enemy, and make the terrified men fight their friends and fellow citizens (7.44.7). The tactic of using a force mixed with Dorians in order to confuse the enemy, which was spectacularly successful at Idomene, fails spectacularly on Epipolai. Thucydides’ narrative forces the reader to reassess the disaster, and also to reassess the tactics and expertise that produced success under similar conditions in the past. The Epipolai narrative shatters the reader’s optimism about the power of human reasoning. It is a truly tragic episode, in that it forces the reader out of a set way of thinking. The Spartans realize after Naupaktos that their naval inexperience counteracts all the advantages they thought they had, in numbers, bravery, conditions, strategy, position, and troop morale. In the same way, Thucydides forces the reader to consider that none of the expertise Demosthenes has shown up to now can produce guaranteed results. But Thucydides sets up the narrative to show us that events could easily have 1 0 1 Some of the essential points in the account at Idomene reappear here: in the darkness it is hard to see what is going on; as the victims are scattered, they do not know which direction to go in, nor who is an enemy and who is a friend. The Aitolia and Idomene episodes suggested that this sort of thing does not happen if the situation is considered rationally in advance. Here it happens despite such analysis. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 14 9 gone the other way. The battle of Naupaktos provided a shocking result to the Spartans, and yet that battle could easily have been an Athenian defeat. Demosthenes could have been obliterated by the Aitolians, or by the Spartans on the shore below his measly stockade. Just as easily, Demosthenes could have won the night battle at Epipolai. Generals with operational expertise, like Phormion and Demosthenes, are both presented trying to catch future events in an analytical net whose holes are slightly too large. Events are always likely to break free from human control. This point brings us back to Thucydides’ claim of “optimism” made at 1.22.4. In the light of the careers of Demosthenes and Phormion, we can now understand Thucydides’ claim more fully. The statement is worded in such a way that it can be applied to just about any historical phenomenon. But according to my argument, Thucydides believes that similar things happen in the future because intelligent people naturally spot similarities between events.1 0 2 The examples of human intelligence I have 1 0 2 The application of general statements to particular events is, as we have seen, a hazardous enterprise. The words pote authis mean that Thucydides is not committing himself to when those phenomena will recur: next year, in a hundred years, or in a thousand? Moreover, Thucydides’ works suggests that in the course of time reality will come up with counterexamples to any general proposition one may care to make about the History. The argument in this chapter suggests that similarities exist only for the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 0 investigated in this chapter show that Thucydides is not in fact pessimistic about the ability of humans to predict the future. To be sure, his characters cannot predict a precise course of events into the future, and Thucydides does not expect them to do so. Exponents of operational expertise use a kind of knowledge which is more general than this, precisely because it is founded on the experience of many similar situations in the past. That knowledge, however, must be precisely fitted to particular situations in order to gain success. If we consider Thucydides a pessimist with respect to the prediction of future events, we must also regard him as an optimist in terms of military expertise. Generals with operational expertise are indeed more successful on the whole than those without. And when they succeed, Thucydides makes clear in the narrative that they succeed because of their particular expertise. Very frequently, a less intelligent enemy commander fails because he lacks the necessary tactical expertise, and because he does not know how the other side will react. Operational expertise gives commanders a intelligent viewer of events. That is why Thucydides enlists his more intelligent characters’ perceptions to analyze events. Fundamentally, historical similarities can only really be perceived retrospectively. Similar things may recur, but real situations are so complex that the people involved in the events will not be able to filter out all those extraneous factors that make the current situation look different and particular. I argue in this study that Thucydides’ wants his readers to form their own way of looking at events, in the same way as Demosthenes formed a plan for success in his military campaigns, and to use that as a filter for events within the History and outside it. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 151 measure of control over conditions, and over the enemy’s thinking.1 0 3 But it is never a complete control. 1 0 3 In the next chapter, I argue that the second form of cognition, psychological expertise, is a development of the operational type of reasoning. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 2 Conclusion I have argued in this chapter that Thucydides encourages the reader to use the past in order to approach the future analytically. The statement at 1.22.4 suggests that he writes history for this purpose. Thucydides has a retrospective view of the events, and he presents his interpretations of events as final.IW As I have shown in the discussion of Thucydides’ military narratives, however, the historian leaves many questions of interpretation open for the reader. One of the most important of these questions is the relation of the events in the History to the reader’s own experience. As I have suggested above, Thucydides encourages the reader to adopt the same view of the events in the work as the intelligent characters who are living through them. At every point in the History, the intelligent characters are challenged to make use of what they already know, and to apply their learning to new circumstances. Similarly, Thucydides encourages the reader to forget for the moment his or her knowledge of the eventual results. This perspective enables the reader to approach the narrative like the intelligent commander: to use knowledge of previous episodes to work out what will be the crucial 1 0 4 In comparison with Herodotos, for example, Thucydides seems more inclined to direct the reader towards a particular interpretation of events, rather than to draw the reader’s attention to alternative interpretations. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 3 determining factors in a given situation. Similar questions face the reader as the commander: “What are the most important features in this mass of information? How can what we know up to now bear on this situation? Is this character’s judgment well founded or not?”1 0 5 Knowledge of a whole range of particular situations gives the reader an intimate knowledge of the problems of the commander. Reading the History parallels the intelligent commander’s learning process. I have argued that the recurrences that take place in the History function on a general level and on a specific level at the same time. Thucydides focuses on the deciding factors at each moment of the work, thereby inspiring his readers to look at their contemporary world in the same way. Possibly, Thucydides’ statement about the usefulness of his History is designed for a naive reader: he intends the reader to recognize the problems inherent in his methodological statements only by reading the work as a whole. My argument suggests something different, however. I have suggested that Thucydides wants the reader to adopt artificially a naive stance with regard to the history of the Peloponnesian War. He does not want the reader to forget everything he 1 0 5 This connection is reinforced by Thucydides’ use of cognitive vocabulary, such as opco, eAtri^co and vopi^co, applied to himself in the first chapter of the History, and to his characters thereafter. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 4 or she knows already about the war; indeed, the presentation of operational expertise suggests that the reader should make use of that knowledge as resourcefully as possible. But Thucydides wants the reader to avoid looking at events from the perspective of the results, to avoid looking at the war as a set of successive events. He wants the reader to focus on the themes underlying those events; specifically, on the knowledge and ideas of the people who created them. The most intelligent people who lived through those events could not trace the past through to the future. Thucydides appreciates the fact that he can look at the Peloponnesian War retrospectively, and that this gives him an intellectual advantage over the participants in the History (including his former self). However, Thucydides deliberately moves away from this perspective in his narrative presentation, and describes situations as they presented themselves to commanders in the History. Thucydides encourages the reader to play this role. Thucydides makes the reader aware that everything in the work needs to be interpreted. Not even concrete events have an absolute meaning. Human actions and events are constantly subject to interpretation. Thucydides’ technique of focalization R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 5 points out how particular phenomena take on a given meaning for certain characters.1 0 0 The misattribution of events to chance sometimes serves as cover for a failure of intelligent analysis.1 0 7 On the other hand, the rational approach to events which is embodied in the intelligent commanders may not be an accurate guide to future events. The intelligent commanders are engaged both in predicting and in determining the future course of events. Intelligent analysis is a necessary, but never sufficient, condition for predicting future events. But if we look at historical events globally and retrospectively, we can claim that superior intelligence leads to success most of the time. Phormion and Demosthenes are leaders with the ability to achieve success in the most unlikely circumstances. 1 0 6 It is a truism that Thucydides expresses a single interpretation which he thinks correct, where Herodotos might have given alternative explanations. But Thucydides’ technique of focalization on the one hand shows how his own interpretation may be linked to those of characters, and on the other hand elevates individual visions to the status of historical fact. Though Thucydides tends to mark his favored view, he does often record different views of the same phenomena. Thucydides is somewhat less Stalinist in his historiographic interpretation than he is sometimes presented as being. 1 0 7 The obvious example is 2.87.1, but I have argued for other implicit examples at 3.97.3 and 3.112.4. De Romilly argues that tyche is reality minus reasoning; this statement enforces a strict antithesis between logos and tyche. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 6 Thucydides holds a conviction that there is a correct analysis for each moment in the History, and that there is a correct course of action for every situation. But those correct answers are hard to find. Thucydides wants the reader to adopt the commander’s point of view, and thereby learn the skill of analyzing historical events. Thucydides does not see it as his job to tell the reader the key to each historical situation— a key discovered by retrospective analysis— precisely because there is no guarantee that this key will be useful in the future. As I have shown in this chapter, even the most intelligent commanders only rarely hit upon the crucial insight at the time. There is no way to be sure at the time that one’s instincts and experience are indeed correct, for that can only be determined retrospectively.1 0 8 However, by approaching past events with an analytical frame of mind, Thucydides suggests that the reader can build up intelligence and expertise that will generally speaking serve the reader well in the future. According to Thucydides, brilliant success can only be achieved by the workings of an analytical 1 0 8 Thucydides shows that success is not always a reliable indication of good generalship. The clearest statement of this thesis is his assertion of the intelligence of the Chians at 8.24.5, despite the fact that their revolt turned out to be a failure. Thucydides seems to view the battle on Epipolai in these terms as well, despite the huge losses incurred by the Athenians. Generals do on occasion make intelligent miscalculations: for instance the strategy in Phormion’s speech at 2.89.8, Demosthenes’ justification for delaying the attack on the island at 4.29.2-30.1, and his miscalculation of the number of enemy troops at 4.30.2 (a calculation based on the supplies entering the island). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 7 mind. Powerful analysis can illuminate the views and actions of others.1 0 9 Only through careful study is it possible, fleetingly, to be correct about the future. 1 0 9 The Spartans are not willing to take on the Athenian navy until after the Sicilian disaster. Such are the historical consequences of the Peloponnesian defeats in the Korinthian gulf. In Sicily, the Syracusans show that with the help of constricted space and technological innovation, it is possible to defeat the Athenians on sea. Though the Spartans are initially made to perceive how important empeiria is, the rest of the work shows that it can be learned. That is, Spartan land expertise and Athenian naval expertise are not unbreachable categories. The narrative has shown Demosthenes gaining empeiria in his military discipline; this transformative learning process perhaps reaches its most meaningful level in the elation of his soldiers in the final attack on Sphakteria, in their discovery that (in these conditions) the famed Spartan hoplites are distinctly ordinary (4.34.1). The Athenian troops’ natural sense of inferiority is expressed by the word dedoulomenoi— enslaved. This is the clearest indication that intelligence is the way to break free from traditional assumptions. I explore this topic further in the fifth section of chapter two. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 8 C h a p t e r T w o : M in d G a m e s in t h e P e l o p o n n e s ia n W ar Brasidas and Demosthenes face off outside Megara: Without taking the offensive or willingly provoking the hazards of a battle, [the Peloponnesians] openly showed their readiness to fight, and thus without bearing the burden of the day would fairly reap its honours; while at the same time they effectually served their interests at Megara. For if they had failed to show themselves they would not have had a chance, but would have certainly been considered vanquished, and have lost the town. As it was, the Athenians might possibly not be inclined to accept their challenge, and their object would be attained without fighting. And so it turned out. The Athenians formed outside the long walls and, the enemy not attacking, there remained motionless; their generals having decided that the risk was too unequal. In fact most of their objects had been already attained; and they would have to begin a battle against superior numbers, and if victorious could only gain Megara, while a defeat would destroy the flower of their heavy soldiery. For the enemy it was different; as even the states actually represented in his army risked each only a part of its entire force, he might well be more audacious. Accordingly, after waiting for some time without either side attacking, the Athenians withdrew to Nisaea, and the Peloponnesians after them to the point from which they had set out. 4.73.3-4, tr. Crawley From a speech by Brasidas: Where an enemy seems strong but is really weak, a true knowledge of the facts makes his adversary the bolder, just as a serious antagonist is encountered most confidently by those who do not know him. Thus the present enemy might terrify an inexperienced imagination; they are formidable in outward bulk, their loud yelling is unbearable, and the brandishing of their weapons in the air has a threatening appearance. But when it comes to real fighting with an opponent who stands his ground, they are not what they seemed; they R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 5 9 have no regular order that they should be ashamed of deserting their positions when hard pressed; flight and attack are with them equally honourable, and afford no test of courage; their independent mode of fighting never leaving anyone who wants to run away without a fair excuse for so doing. 4.126.4-5, tr. Crawley Brasidas is the main exponent of a second type of cognition, which I call “psychological expertise.” It is more complex than the “operational expertise” discussed in the first chapter. While Brasidas does at times use operational expertise, he demonstrates qualities and thought processes which go beyond those I have described in chapter one. In particular, Brasidas uses a thorough knowledge of military cognition to make inferences about the intentions and motivations of his enemy. This more intensely psychological type of analysis may be found in the two passages above. Using a thorough knowledge of human nature, Brasidas can see how other people, whether friends or enemies, have a choice of action in critical situations. Furthermore, Brasidas is able to infer from a given situation which choice that other person is inclined to take. He demonstrates this ability throughout the narrative of his campaign in the North of Greece. In this chapter I discuss the nature of this style of cognition and the way it works. The conclusion of this chapter, as it relates to Thucydides’ historical method, is that Thucydides uses expected results, not actual results, to frame his retrospective R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 0 judgments on human action. I argue that Thucydides makes use of psychological expertise, as demonstrated by Brasidas, to set his expectations about what the actors ought to know about others at a given moment in the action. Thucydides does not expect people to know what only becomes clear later. However, Brasidas and certain other intelligent characters can in fact make sound inferences about other people’s motives and intentions. Thucydides considers that actors can be held responsible for acting in ignorance of other people’s intentions if those intentions were clear at the time of action~if, that is, those intentions could be diagnosed by an intelligent observer like Brasidas. In both the second and third chapters I explore types of cognition which seem less rigorously military than operational expertise and more clearly applicable to human behavior in general. But I argue that psychological expertise and general knowledge also depend fundamentally on military techniques. These modes of reasoning are however less closely tied to particular circumstances than operational expeitise. In this chapter, as in the first one, I identify individuals who are experts at this type of cognition. In the first four sections of the chapter I look in detail at the campaign of Brasidas in the Thraceward region. In section five I take a comparative look at the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 1 cognition of four others who also seem to display psychological expertise: Alkibiades, Hermokrates, Gylippos, and Phrynichos. We should not expect characters to demonstrate only one kind of expertise. For instance Hermokrates appears in this chapter to illustrate certain elements of psychological expertise; I also look at his speeches in the third chapter in order to study general knowledge. Psychological expertise subsumes operational expertise, and so some of Brasidas’ thoughts, actions, and words resemble operational expertise. General knowledge, in turn, subsumes psychological expertise. In a way, Hermokrates plays a Perikles-like role in the city of Syracuse; in that sense he is an exponent of general knowledge. But some of Hermokrates’ strategic operations typify psychological expertise. Several recent scholars point out important differences between the way Thucydides presents his characters and the way Herodotos and Plutarch present theirs. While distinguishing Herodotos’ and Thucydides’ presentation of practical knowledge, Dewald argues: ‘Thucydides does not believe in the usefulness or even in the possibility of a political knowledge divorced from the exercise of personal and civic R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 2 ambition” (1985:56). Crane 1995:xiii argues for an even narrower focus, calling into question actors’ personal motives. He suggests that the actors in Thucydides’ History are constructed so that they pay attention only to the interests of the polis, and neglect other types of motivation such as the family. Crane uses this argument to explain the lack of women in the History. For example, in Thucydides, Perikles is not at all interested in settling down with Aspasia and having a brood of children and a two- chariot garage. In Plutarch, by contrast, Perikles does worry about things like this.1 Even Alkibiades is much less colorfully drawn in Thucydides than in Plutarch.2 So in the process of building his characters, Thucydides has made choices about what concerns his characters should have. I shift the emphasis slightly away from the political type of motivation advocated by Crane, and towards a military type of motivation. Characters in Thucydides are concerned about serving their polis in the war. Even the political speeches in Thucydides, such as those of Diodotos and the Platuians, reveal a military background. When we look at the characters’ analyses of the future, 1 Cartledge 1993:131 remarks on Thucydides’ “earsplitting” silence on the topic of Aspasia. 2 Westlake 1968 does not recognize this point in his study; he argues that Thucydides depict characters much more fully in the second half of the work than in the first. He uses character descriptions to index stages of composition. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 163 we find that they are very rarely concerned with anything beyond achieving a successful outcome in the war. The three types of cognition I study in this dissertation all look at the future, but on different scales: Demosthenes and Phormion focus rigorously on the battle at hand; Brasidas is able to balance several different concerns in constructing a strategy for his campaign; and Perikles cares mostly about Athens’ ability to win the war and about the glory Athens will achieve as a result. All of these concerns can be traced back to the individual’s characteristic type of military thinking. The main historiographical argument in this chapter points to the similarity between Brasidas’ cognition and Thucydides’ own explanations about human behavior. Scholars in the past have usually shied away from the question how Thucydides could know about the ratiocinations of characters in the History. As I have already shown in chapter one, and as I continue to show here, Thucydides routinely attributes thoughts to characters. Scholars who have been prepared to accept the fundamental authenticity of Thucydides’ speeches have not always shown similar enthusiasm in accepting characters’ thoughts as historical. In this chapter, however, I am not directly concerned with the authenticity of characters’ thoughts, i.e. with Thucydides’ evidence for attributing this thought to this character at this time. Instead, I establish a means by R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 164 which Thucydides can make reasonable inferences about characters’ thoughts at particular times, whether or not he has solid sources for those thoughts. This technique is related to the type of reasoning we see Brasidas using in the narrative. The approach I use in this chapter does not depend on inferring motivation from results. The idea that Thucydides infers characters’ motives from results is still widely recognized in Thucydides scholarship and it is used in two major studies of Thucydides’ historical technique (Hunter 1973, Schneider 1974). This method looks at characters’ motivation retrospectively, and argues that Thucydides works out what the actor must have been thinking in order to produce a given result. This view is incompatible with my contention that Thucydides characteristically presents circumstances as they appeared to characters at the time. If Thucydides were to infer motivation from results, he could not describe characters’ views of particular events and circumstances without circularity. Furthermore, this method comes dangerously close to suggesting that events in Thucydides are generally speaking intentional. I am not arguing that Hunter and Schneider are wrong to suggest that Thucydides uses this method; after all, Thucydides R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 5 admits to doing something very like it at 8.46.5.31 argue instead that this is not Thucydides’ normal procedure. There are ways of inferring people’s motivation from the circumstances themselves, using very straightforward and obvious principles of human motivation. Brasidas demonstrates these techniques in his dealings with other characters. At no point does Thucydides attribute to his characters understanding about other people which they could not have had at the time. Throughout his narrative, Thucydides points out just how Brasidas and other intelligent individuals are able to infer other people’s motives. In the discussion below I look at the same three narrative techniques I identified in the last chapter: verbal reminiscence, focalization, and narrative shaping. As before, I concentrate most on the first two techniques. I study these techniques in order to find patterns of human thought and motivation in Thucydides’ characters. However, since the object of analysis for psychological expertise is different, I will use the narrative techniques in a slightly different way. There will be no tables in this chapter, even though I identify various types of patterns. The type of cognition I study here is not easy 3 At 8.46.5, Thucydides admits that he is inferring Tissaphemes’ reaction to the advice of Alkibiades from Tissaphemes’ subsequent behavior. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 6 to see in a nexus of strategies, like the operational expertise of Demosthenes; nor does it constitute a framework for analyzing the future, like the achievability arguments in chapter three. I focus instead on the argument that human psychology is accessible because it is structured. Those patterns of thought that reveal psychological expertise require a certain measure of interpretation. As I have suggested in chapter one, the Thucydidean learning process is in a sense particular to an individual. Demosthenes finds a method that works for him; Phormion puts into practice another method that also works. But neither of these forms of expertise produce guaranteed results, because they cannot predict whole sequences of events. Farrar has suggested that the reader learns how to understand Thucydides while engaged in the reading process; Connor’s and Farrar’s ideas about reading Thucydides depend on the ongoing recognition of similarities.4 In this chapter, I use Brasidas’ skills as an index of the way Thucydides presents possibilities and interpretations to us. 4 Connor 1984:14-18 argues for an interpretation of Thucydides which is sensitive to developments in the text; he suggests that Thucydides shapes readers’ expectations and assumptions, but constantly questions those assumptions throughout the work. Connor’s approach roughly speaking uses a “reader-response” method to inform a “pessimist” thesis. Farrar 1988:132 compares the reader’s learning while going through the text with a child’s learning through experience in the world. As she points out, in both cases each individual needs to work out a method of analysis for himself or herself. The reader must choose what principles of analysis to apply, and to recognize when they do apply and when they need to be modified. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 167 The patterns I observe in the Brasidas narrative do contain verbal reminiscences, but those reminiscences involve something more subtle than the mere repetition of specific tactics. To be sure, Brasidas does seem to use specifiable strategies and methods in each of the cities he visits: he uses surprise, threats, support within the city, addresses to the citizens, and promises of protection. But these actions do not yield significant insights about Brasidas’ peculiar brand of cognition. Scholars like Connor 1984 and Babut 1981 have however produced interesting results by comparing Brasidas’ strategies with those of Demosthenes at the beginning of book four. Babut in particular argues energetically that this book is one of the most highly structured in Thucydides. This kind of interpretation uses patterns of concrete actions; it resembles the method of de Romilly 1956, and reaches useful conclusions about structure in the text of Thucydides. Cognitive patterns do not in themselves constitute types of expertise. What follows is an example of the type of pattern I investigate in this chapter. One of the major patterns in the Brasidas narrative is the series of choices to revolt from the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 8 Athenian empire. Most of the Chalkidian cities have two factions, oligarchic and democratic. The democrats try to stick with Athens, and the oligarchs want to break free. The circumstances vary with each decision: the choice may for instance be affected by Brasidas’ persuasiveness, by his threats, by the level of support coming from Athens and Sparta, by the strategic location of the city, or by the ruling faction’s level of authority within the city. Psychological expertise of the type I explore here exists in the space between general ideas and particular circumstances. Looking at the way Thucydides presents decisions being made at the time, I show how Brasidas is able to manipulate other people while he is talking to them and gathering information from them. This type of cognition is formed in the moment; characters like Brasidas use it, together with past experience, to achieve success. We cannot deny that Thucydides retrospectively imposes structures on the narrative. However, I show how Thucydides structures the text in such a way as to highlight cognition as an ongoing process. The interpretive significance of these patterns lies in the relation between cognition and particular events. Psychological expertise also requires a different conception of focalization. In the first chapter, I used an adapted version of de Jong’s categories of focalization, R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 6 9 pointing out the different relations between the narrator’s and the character’s point of view. I drew attention to examples of double focalization, in which Thucydides makes his intelligent characters see the situation as he sees it himself. Thucydides represents Brasidas’ words and ratiocinations using both direct and indirect speech.5 On the whole, I discuss the presentation of thoughts in indirect speech in the same way as I discussed Demosthenes’ and Phormion’s thoughts in chapter one. Brasidas also gives three major speeches in direct discourse (not counting the one at 2.85-87). Because psychological expertise focuses on human motivations and intentions, it is necessary to discuss the relation between Brasidas and his audience. In order to study the interaction of speaker and audience I present a distinction between levels of focalization (FI, F2, and F3). I have mentioned these levels of focalization in the introduction: (FI) is the historian’s own view, (F2) is the view a character expresses in direct or indirect discourse, and (F3) is the view which characters adopt for themselves after hearing or seeing another character’s view (F2). De Jong’s categories do not recognize the verbal expression of characters’ ideas. In the 31 find focalization less important in characters’ speeches: in this case, the character is both narrator and focalizer. Focalization plays a relatively small role in the third chapter, which deals mainly with direct speeches. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 7 0 introduction, I pointed out a few cases of free indirect discourse or FID. Usually, Thucydides himself would take responsibility for the choice of words in his own narrative, even when he is describing the thoughts of another character. But in cases of FID, he uses a few especially vivid words to represent the characters’ original thoughts. The schema I use in this chapter takes into account the way a focalization can be shared between one character and the narrator, or between one character and another. The distinction between focalization levels (F2) and (F3) has been amusingly illustrated by Ron 1981:35-6.6 Ron argues that the problems of focalization in a passage from the pulp novel Posh may be solved by positing that the narrator uses FID in describing the thoughts of the wife as she prepares a meal for her husband. The passage includes words such as “all piping hot,” “garnished with,” and “a peppery watercress salad.”7 The actual vocabulary of this passage does not originate with the wife. Ron argues that the words I have quoted represent a “patchwork of cliches from women’s magazines” (1981:36). The narrative represents the thoughts of the wife, Ron 6 This discussion is more familiar to classicists as quoted in Fowler 1990:45-46. 7 In this instance the description also counts as implicit embedded focalization (2b in de Jong’s schema). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 171 concludes, but those thoughts are not strictly her own. In terms of my distinction, focalization of type (F2) would cover the original magazine’s use of these words: the vocabulary represents editorial choices about describing food preparation. But focalization type (F3) would refer to the way the wife adopts that vocabulary. Presumably, she has read many of these magazines and many descriptions of food preparation. Ron is arguing that she has derived not only her vocabulary, but also her emotional responses and her methods of interacting with other people from those magazine descriptions. The same effect can also be seen in Thucydides’ presentation of Brasidas’ interactions with the Thraceward cities. Certain thoughts which Thucydides attributes to the northern states have evidently derived from Brasidas. In his speeches, Brasidas sometimes articulates motivations which the audience has felt, but has not acted upon up to now. In cases such as these, we can regard Brasidas’ original words as focalization (F2), and the audience’s reception of those words as focalization (F3). The distinction between levels of focalization is clearly most important in cases when an actor’s point of view (F3), attitude, or intention is in fact expressed by another actor. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Ill Thucydides makes use of this technique quite frequently in his presentation of speeches. Sensitivity to levels of focalization allows us to detect Thucydides’ implicit claims about one character’s ability to guide the ideas of others. This chapter is divided into five sections. In the first four sections I alternate discussion of Thucydides’ passages of global analysis at 4.81 and 4.108 with a discussion of the Brasidas narrative, using the techniques I have sketched out above. The fall of Amphipolis turns out to be a major turning point in the Brasidas narrative. Section two looks at the narrative from the beginning up until Amphipolis; section four takes the narrative from there up to Brasidas’ death. The main argument in the chapter is that Thucydides tends to use expected results, not actual results, in his analysis of events. In section three, I use the passage at 4.108 to show how Thucydides sets those expectations. I suggest that Thucydides expects characters to have a certain level of psychological expertise. While all characters in the History have expectations about the future, only the most intelligent characters are able to produce accurate expectations involving other people’s actions.8 Brasidas is the supreme practitioner of psychological 8 For a detailed treatment of Thucydides’ sources for individual claims about human motivation see especially Schneider 1974, though Schneider, like Hunter 1973, tends to suggest that Thucydides infers motivation from result. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 173 expertise, and I highlight the way he uses that expertise throughout the narrative of his campaign. In section three, I argue that Thucydides, having established this type of expertise in the narrative, uses it to frame his own historical judgments. In part five, I discuss the cognition of various characters other than Brasidas. In this more comparative analysis, I discuss the implications of Thucydides’ association between Brasidas’ expertise and the reader’s reaction to the text. In the first four parts of this chapter, I concentrate mostly on Brasidas’ cognition and on the question how Brasidas is able to know anything at all about the cognition of his fellow characters. Part five reverses the emphasis and discusses the historian’s judgments and expectations in the light of intelligent characters’ thoughts about events. Ultimately, I argue that Thucydides has no problem about giving Brasidas access to other characters’ thoughts at particular moments. Furthermore, Thucydides regards this expertise as a necessary survival skill. He considers that historical actors court disaster if they remain ignorant of other people’s intentions and motivations. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 7 4 Part One: Authorial and Contemporary Focalizations in 4.81 Soon after the beginning of the Brasidas narrative, Thucydides writes a passage which looks synthetically at the whole campaign. Here Thucydides provides judgments both on Brasidas and on the consequences of his campaign: a u x o v T 8 B p a a t S a v ( B o u A o h e v o v p a A t a r a A a K e B a i p o v i o i a T T E crrE iA av ( T r p o u 0u u r | 0r ) a a v 5 e k cci o i X a A i a S f j s ) . a v S p a e v t e T fi Z i r d p x ^ i S o K o O v r a B p a c m j p i o v e l v a i e $ t c c t r a v T a kcci e t r e iS r i E^f)A 0 E T T A E ia T o u a £ t o v A c c K E S a i u o v i o i s y e v o i a e v o v . t o t e y a p n a p a u T i K G e a u r o v - r r a p a a x c b v S i K a i o v K a i p iE T p io v e$ tc c $ t t o A e i s aT T E O T riaE T a i r o A A d . t o 8 e T r p o S o a i a eTAe t c o v y c o p i c o v . c o o t e t o T s A a K £ 5 a i |i O v i 'o i g y i y v E a 0 a i £ u |i ( 3a i v E i v t e (3o u A o h e v o i s , o t t e p E T T o iq a a v , a v T a t r o B o a i v K a i a t r o S o x B v x c ^ P ^ v kcci t o u t t o A e h o u a - r r o T f j s r T E A o T r o v v f |a o u A c b < p r |a t v e$ t e t o u X P ° UCP u a T E p o v U E T a T a e k Z iK E A i'a ^ t t o A e u o v f| t o t e B p a a i ' S o u d p E T q K a i ^ u v e c tis . t c o v |_iev TTEi'pg a i a 0 o p E v c o v , t c o v 8 e a K o f j v o p u a a v T c o v , p a A i a T a ETri0 u p u ' a v e v e t t o i e i t o T $ ’A 0 r | v a { c o v £ u u p d x o i $ e$ t o u s A a K E B a i j a o v l o u g . T r p c b T o j y a p e £ e A 0c o v K a i 5 o £ a < ; E l v a i K a r a i r d v T a a y a 0 o g E A tr i B a ey K a T E A iT T E (3 E(3a i o v cog K a i o i a A A o i t o i o O t o i s i a i v . The Lacedaemonians sent out Brasidas who himself very much wanted to go; the Chalcidians were also eager for him, a man who at Sparta had the reputation in all matters of getting things done and when he went out was of the greatest value to the Lacedaimonians. At the immediate moment he presented himself as ju st and moderate to the cities and induced a large proportion of them to revolt; some of the places he captured when they were betrayed to him. Thus when the Spartans wanted to make a treaty, - as indeed they did - they had something to exchange and restore and thereby an alleviation of the war from the Peloponnese. As for the later war, after the Sicilian expedition, the excellence and comprehension which Brasidas had shown at the time - some experienced them at first hand, others through reports - were especially effective in creating pro-Spartan desires among Athens’ allies. For since he was the first to go out from Sparta and have the reputation R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 175 for being excellent in all respects, he left a secure hope that the others too would be like him. 4.81, tr. Connor Thucydides praises Brasidas highly in this passage, especially by using the words arete and xynesis. Thucydides attributes these qualities to only a few characters in the work. Recent scholars have shown however that this passage does not just contain Thucydides’ judgment. Connor remarks that most of the value terms in this passage relate to other characters’ perceptions of Brasidas (1984:131). According to this interpretation, Thucydides is more interested in describing how other people view Brasidas than in delivering his own judgments. Without question, the passage combines Thucydides’ own judgments with contemporary judgments. I will ultimately suggest that Thucydides frames his own judgments in terms of certain characters’ judgments. An example of Thucydides’ own judgment from this passage would be “Brasidas’ excellence and comprehension.” Thucydides makes this claim in the context of certain actions which in his view constitute arete kai xynesis. It is vitally important to distinguish this view from the judgment of characters mentioned in the last sentence: that Brasidas was kata panta agathos. These words are doubtless ironic; certain characters apparently take the idea of Brasidas’ virtue to extremes. As the subsequent narrative shows, Brasidas is not good in every single respect, and in any case R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 176 Thucydides never suggests that any character is unequivocally good. With these words, then, Thucydides draws a line between his own judgment and that of the characters. On the other hand, Thucydides seems to hold a more moderate version of the same judgment, and he gives evidence in the passage to support his view. Thucydides describes Brasidas’ reputation for energy, justice, and moderation. While he does not claim that the reputation was entirely justified, Thucydides does argue that those qualities enabled Brasidas to do good things for Sparta. Although Thucydides does not explicitly praise Brasidas for the qualities of energy, justice, and moderation, he does praise the results achieved using those qualities. In this passage, Thucydides argues that certain perceptions of Brasidas, some of which were justified, played a crucial role in producing important historical consequences. In this passage, Thucydides pulls away from his sequential narrative of the Brasidas campaign and surveys his whole career. He invites the reader to compare this passage with Brasidas’ actions in the preceding and foregoing narrative.9 This retrospective passage does not just summarize the surrounding narrative; it encourages 9 In what follows, I assume a certain measure of familiarity with the surrounding narrative. In the next section, I pick out important cognitive themes in this surrounding narrative. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. ill the reader to look out for focalizations in the text, to separate the historianrs interpretations from those of contemporary characters. I suggest that in Thucydides’ eyes, Brasidas’ historical significance lies in his ability to influence the thoughts of other characters, to open up for other people new fears and new realms of possibility. In what follows I take some of the synthetic judgments in this passage and show how they relate to contemporary attitudes; I also discuss the way Thucydides uses these ideas to establish the historical significance of Brasidas’ campaign. The explicit purpose of the synthetic passage at 4.81 is to explain Brasidas’ reputation for being energetic or drasterios. Brasidas is already familiar to the attentive reader. He has appeared in several seemingly routine episodes already, and has demonstrated energy on those occasions: he saved Methone at 2.25, he planned to attack Piraeus at 2.93-4, he fought at Pylos at 4.12 and Kerkyra at 3.77-9, and he saved Megara at 4.70-73.1 regard this last exploit as part of Brasidas’ northern campaign, even though his force on this occasion is augmented by some Peloponnesian troops. The reader can certainly recognize Brasidas’ energy. Thucydides seems to form an implicit contrast between Brasidas’ alacrity and the stereotypical Spartan slowness. Thucydides R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 178 links this passage to the narrative at a crucial moment, when the Spartans have just chosen to send Brasidas on the expedition. At this moment, the Spartans realize a vital opportunity for action after years of unproductive fighting and a major defeat at Pylos.1 0 The Chalkidians are evidently desperate for Spartan support." Thucydides firmly implies that it was Brasidas who stirred the Spartans into action, and that the Spartans decided to attempt the expedition before choosing Brasidas as its leader.1 * Thucydides 1 0 As is well known, the Spartans do have other reasons for sending the expedition out, as described in the previous chapter. De Ste. Croix 1972 begins his chapter on Sparta with the words: ‘The cardinal fact about Sparta is her uniquely dangerous position as mistress of the Helots, above all the Messenian Helots.” This claim derives from Thucydides’ statement at 4.80.3, and from a story Thucydides gives to illustrate it (4.80.4-5). In order to get rid of some dangerous helots, the Spartans organize a fake freedom ceremony, complete with garlands. Those helots are never heard from again. They might be the same Messenian people who helped Demosthenes at Pylos. 1 1 At 4.79.2, Thucydides reveals that some Chalkidians are secretly sponsoring the expedition together with Perdikkas. 1 2 Gomme argues that Brasidas’ reputation for being drcisterios explains Brasidas’ eagerness for the expedition, but not Sparta’s willingness to send him to Chalkidike. Gomme has clearly mastered Greek syntax; however on certain occasions, like this one. he seems to let that mastery get in the way of commonsense interpretation: We have a case of a not uncommon Greek usage, a practically independent clause expressed by a participial construction: ‘he was a man with a reputation for unremitting energy (in explanation of auTov (SouXoiiEvov, and of Trpou0upf|0qaau oi X., and only incidentally of d'TTsaTEiXav too), and later proved to be of the greatest value to Sparta.’ Gomme HCT 3:548 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 7 9 also claims in 4.81 that characters recognize this quality in Brasidas. Indeed, he implies that people’s recognition of Brasidas’ energy is crucial to understanding Brasidas’ career. The foregoing narrative shows that the Spartans have already recognized Brasidas’ energy: he received an official ovation after Methone, and was praised for his bravery at Pylos (2.25, 4.12). The narrative also explains how Brasidas’ reputation spread to the Chalkidians. Brasidas has been arranging an expedition for some time (4.70.1,4.79.2,4.83.3). In his speech at Akanthos (4.85.7), Brasidas alludes to the Megara campaign, suggesting that the audience knows at least the general outlines of this episode. Moreover, the Chalkidians would certainly know about stereotypes of Spartans. They may well have heard stories, for example, about the Spartan mistreatment of subject cities, particularly Herakleia at Trachis (3.93.2, cf. 1.76.1, 1.77.6, 3.31-3, 4.130.4, 5.51-2, 5.83, 5.105.2, 8.3.1). The Chalkidians evidently know something about Brasidas already, and think that he will be different from the Gomme focuses on Brasidas’ qualities rather than the recognition of those qualities by characters. But Thucydides is clearly concerned with the recognition of those qualities here. Brasidas’ willingness to go on the expedition would naturally be explained by his actual energy, not by his reputation for energy. Consequently the word drasterios must explain why the Chalkidians were eager for him, and why the Spartans sent him. This implies, of course, that both the Spartans and Chalkidians wanted Brasidas in particular, not some other Spartan leader. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 8 0 stereotypical cruel Spartan. For these reasons, the Chalkidians want Brasidas in particular.1 3 In this passage, Thucydides assumes that the reader has some knowledge of Brasidas’ career both before and during the campaign. But he also describes what characters, particularly the Spartans and Chalkidians, know about Brasidas’ career up to now. Thucydides is concerned with the contemporary reactions to Brasidas, and he uses them to explain how Brasidas was chosen for the expedition, and why he was welcomed in the northern cities. To a certain extent Thucydides agrees with the characters’ judgments. Thucydides agrees that Brasidas is drasterios; however, Thucydides apparently translates this term into his own value system when he calls Brasidas pleistou axios Lakedaimoniois. By Thucydides’ standards, this constitutes high praise. Thucydides praises most highly men who benefit their own country, whether they seek personal glory or make personal sacrifices. Dewald argues that in 1 3 Thucydides says only T r p o u 0u p f i0r i a a v 5 e K a i oi XaXKiSfjs, which does not technically mean that they wanted Brasidas in particular. However, enthusiasm for Brasidas must surely be understood here. Thucydides has already stated at 4.79.2 that the Chalkidians are keen for Spartan support, and he states at 4.70.1 that Brasidas is preparing for an expedition to Thrace. It appears from these passages that Brasidas has been cultivating relations with the Chalkidian cities for some time. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1S1 Thucydides’ judgment devotion to the polis is a vital component of xynesis.1 - 1 Thucydides states clearly in this passage that Brasidas was acting with the intention of obtaining territory for Sparta to exchange when peace came about. This is why Thucydides calls Brasidas the most valuable Spartan during the Archidamian War. In this passage Thucydides has two main purposes: to explain motivation of characters in the narrative, and to express his own synthetic judgment on Brasidas. It is useful at this point to bring in the discussion of focalization from the introduction. The categories I identified were as follows. Thucydides’ synthetic judgments on Brasidas can be classified as focalization type (FI), the characters’ own judgments count as level (F2), while those judgments which are derived from other characters count as (F3). So according to this categorization, pleistou cixios is level (F I). 1 4 :DewaId argues that intelligent men are admired because they benefit the city. The xynetoi in the History of Thucydides gain for themselves and their cities the doxa aieimnestos that Pericles defines as the only lasting human accomplishment (2.64.5). They do so because they share Thucydides’ own understanding of the workings of power and the nature of real self-interest, and they have the strength of mind to pursue their own goals despite the obstacles set in their way by others or by the chances of war. Dewald 1985:59 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 8 2 and drasterios is level (F2). Now let us consider the terms dikaion kai metrion. Who is the focalizer for these judgments? Thucydides explicitly removes himself as candidate for focalizer with the words paraschon heauton. According to some scholars, Thucydides means that Brasidas merely seemed to be just and moderate, and was not so in reality.1 5 In any case, these judgments would seem to count as the Chalkidian cities’ focalization, and they would be either type (F2) or (F3) depending on the extent to which Brasidas actively encouraged the cities to think in these terms. Thucydides intends the terms dikaion kai metrion to cover each of Brasidas’ appearances in the Chalkidian cities, at least in general terms. He encourages the reader to read the later narratives in this light. Indeed, the qualities of dikaiosyne and metriotes figure prominently in the campaigns at Amphipolis and Torone (4.105.2, 4.106.1, 4.114.2-5). Thucydides also mentions Brasidas’ metriotes in the second passage of 1 5 Homblower claims that Connor maintains the “cynical” view that Brasidas seemed to be just and moderate, but was not in reality (CT 2:54-56). Homblower uses a single parallel (hauton pareiche: 1.130.2) to argue that these words do not in themselves warrant the “cynical” interpretation. As I read Connor’s argument, I do not think he commits himself to such a cynical position; he does however deny that Thucydides gives his own judgment here. Westlake examines Thucydides’ explicit judgments on characters (1968:6); he does not consider judgments prefaced by dokein and doxas, arguing that Thucydides does not commit himself to those judgments. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 18 3 extended authorial analysis (4.108.2). In this passage, however, the focalization appears to be shared between various parties: Thucydides claims that Brasidas’ metriotes at Amphipolis made the Athenians especially fearful. The Chalkidian view of Brasidas’ moderation counts as focalization level (F2); the resultant Athenian fears count as focalization level (F3). This passage, when analyzed according to the categories above, suggests an answer to questions both about the historian’s views and about the characters’ views. At 4.108.2, Thucydides describes Athenian fears in explicit embedded focalization: specifically that the Spartans might wander unchecked across Thrace, and that the subject cities might revolt en masse (4.108.1-2).1 6 Thucydides uses a gar clause to explain these fears: Now . . . the path seemed open. There was also the fear of the allies revolting, owing to (gar) the moderation (metrion) displayed by Brasidas in all his conduct, and to the declarations that he was everywhere making that he was sent out to free Hellas. 4.108.2, tr. Crawley 1 6 Thucydides has indicated already that this fear is unrealistic at 4.78 (while describing the difficulty of getting support through Thrace). In this argument I am concerned with the identifiability of the focalization, not its accuracy as a judgment. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 184 This passage clearly contains a complex set of focalizations: it conveys the views of various characters and also the historian’s view. The second sentence quoted above is quite complex: on the one hand, it serves as the historian’s explanation of Athenian fears; on the other hand, it shows how the Athenians’ fears themselves depend on other characters’ views. Homblower CT 2:55 is correct that Thucydides is saying that Brasidas actually was metrios.1 1 The narrative makes this point indisputable. Thucydides suggests in the narrative that Brasidas made moderate proposals to the Amphipolitans and that their perception of this moderation was a major reason why they turned over the city to him (4.106.2). So this sentence contains focalization (FI), and we can infer that the judgments dikaion kai metrion expressed at 4.81 also contain focalization (FI). When Brasidas declares his own moderation at Torone, he is using focalization (F2). If the Amphipolitans and the Toronaians come to the same conclusion purely on the basis of Brasidas’ own words, then their perception would count as 1 7 Thucydides describes instances of Brasidas’ justice and moderation in the Amphipolis narrative (4.105.1, 4.106.2). Brasidas also claims justice and moderation in his speech at Torone; for instance, he gives the Athenians two days to leave, instead of the customary one (4.114.3), and excuses any citizen’s past opposition to Sparta (4.114.6). Without doubt, Thucydides agrees that Brasidas was just and moderate at Torone. These instances, however, only justify the claim that Brasidas was in fact just and moderate, not that Brasidas gained Torone because o/his justice and moderation. Brasidas captured the place by betrayal, using a sneaky plan (4.110-113). In this respect, the Torone narrative does not quite fit Thucydides’ analysis in 4.81. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 185 focalization level (F3). It is quite clear from the narrative, however, that these cities form their own judgment on Brasidas’ moderation; they use focalization level (F2). But the resultant Athenian fear, in turn, counts as focalization (F3). Now I compare these various focalizations with the historian’s judgment, level (FI). While Thucydides describes several instances of moderation in the narrative, he does not necessarily suggest that Brasidas was moderate in all of his conduct. The passage quoted above appears to exaggerate Brasidas’ qualities a little. Thucydides suggests that characters are more likely to harbor exaggerated views than he is himself. The Athenian fear, for example, represents the powerful grip Brasidas has on the imaginations of the northern cities. That is, Brasidas is able to get people to see things his way, to make their minds follow intellectual tracks which he lays down, and to make them arrive at the judgments he wants them to hold about him. When Thucydides highlights perceptions of Brasidas (paraschon heauton . . . doxas einai), he is not necessarily doubting the accuracy of those perceptions. Rather, Thucydides emphasizes the way these views depend on Brasidas’ techniques of self-presentation. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 186 Brasidas’ own words and actions exert considerable control over the reactions both of the northern cities and of the Athenians. The sentence quoted above shows how Thucydides uses the Athenian fears to look both backwards and forwards. These fears sum up the narrative up to this point and also identify a potential course of events. In other words, the focalizations described in 4.108 vary both between viewers and over time. The same effect can be detected in 4.81. In this passage Thucydides represents particular stages in the thinking of the Spartans, the Chalkidians, and the Athenians, as well as his own historical perspective. Thucydides starts the passage by describing people’s reactions at the time Brasidas was sent out, and then passes on to the reactions to Brasidas’ immediate successes (to te garparautika); he closes the passage by considering Brasidas’ long term effect on the war (es te ton chrondi hysteron . . . polemon). In both 4.108 and in 4.81, then, we can see Thucydides locating Brasidas’ action within a set of larger analytical frames, both long term and short term. These frames define the characters’ perceptions of him, and have a great influence on later action within the war. Just taking the contemporary reactions to the campaign, Brasidas represents goodness and liberation for the Chalkidians, value to the Spartans, and fear to the Athenians. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 187 These reactions to Brasidas depend in large part upon Brasidas’ own ability to create perceptions of himself. Later, I will show how he does this in the Akanthian speech and in the proclamations at Amphipolis, Torone, and Skione. For the moment, however, it is worth pointing out how the various views of Brasidas (F3) depend on Brasidas’ own analyses (focalization F2). If this is so, then the perceptions I have identified in the synthetic passages at 4.81 and 4.108 imply quite specific intentions on Brasidas’ part. It is worth looking back at 4.81 to examine what Brasidas intended during the campaign. Ordinarily, a description of historical consequences need not claim anything about characters’ actual intentions. In this passage Thucydides states, quite unequivocally, that Brasidas was attempting to gain territory for Sparta, so that Sparta could give it to Athens in exchange for other places.1 8 Thucydides asserts that Brasidas intended these consequences by using a standard result clause with the infinitive.1 9 Apparently Brasidas sees the opportunity provided by the expedition, but 1 8 Raaflaub 1983:272-7; cf. Homblower C T2:51. 1 9 Thucydides’ words run as follows: coots toTs AaKsSaipoviots yiyvsaQa^ 5uu(3alveiv re ( 3ouAopevois. ouep stToiriaav, dvraTroBoaiv Kai dTroBoxfiv Xcopi'cov. According to Smyth GG.508 *52257 and *52258, if the verb gignesthai were in the indicative, it would mean simply that the consequence followed, without implying anything about an actor’s intentions. Accordingly, if a result actually occurred, and it differed at all from the actor’s intention, then that result must be expressed by the indicative. Gignesthai in the infinitive, by contrast, does not necessarily mean that the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 188 consequence took place at all, but it does specify an actor’s intention. In the present passage, Thucydides emphasizes the intention by using a result clause with infinitive, and he confirms that the result actually took place with the words hoper epoiesan. Thucydides’ use of result clauses is quite standard. The following examples illustrate how Thucydides uses result clauses with the infinitive and with the indicative. They come from the relatively straightforward narrative of the Theban invasion of Plataia, and they occur in consecutive sentences: ctTreipoi pev ovtes oi TrX Etoug ev okotco k c c i irriXcp toov SioSc o v r j XPfi aco0fivai (teat y a p teX eutcovto^ tou unvog t c c yiyvopeva f)U). E pT T E tpO U S 8 e E X O V T E S TO U$ 8lCOKOVTag TO U pfl EK96lly6lV. coote 8 ie< p8e(povto o't tt oX X oi. Most of the fugitives were quite ignorant of the right ways out, and this, with the mud, and the darkness caused by the moon being in her last quarter, and the fact that their pursuers knew their way about and could easily stop their escape, proved fatal to many. t c o v 8 e TTXaTaicbv Tig Tag TiuXag rj EafjX0ov tc a i a'lTrep f j o a v povai dvEcpypEvat e k X i^ o e OTupaKi'cp c c k o v t i o u a v T i (SaXavou X p r i a a n E v o j Eg t o u poxXou, c o o t s unSe TaUTn e £ o 8 o v e t i e T uqi. The only gate open was the one by which they had entered, and this was shut by one of the Plataeans driving the spike of a javelin into the bar instead of the bolt; so that even here there was no longer any means of exit. 2.4.2, 2.4.3; tr. Crawley In the first sentence, Thucydides places the emphasis on the result; in the second, Thucydides emphasizes the intention by using the infinitive. It is worth noting that the subject of the action that introduces the coote clause is the proper repository of intention, even if the results primarily affect other people. Thus the Plataians see the opportunity to shut the Thebans inside the city, and they succeed. Similarly, at 4.81.1 , the use of coote with the infinitive means that that the Spartans did in fact end up with places to exchange, but this happy position was the result of Brcisiclas' intentions. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 8 9 scholars have suggested that the Spartans do not.2 0 Thucydides also mentions Brasidas’ methods for achieving this goal: persuading cities to come over to him, or taking them by betrayal. Clearly, Brasidas’ ability to foster a reputation for justice and moderation makes up an essential part of this strategy. To a large extent, then, Thucydides presents the historical results as intended by Brasidas. However, these intentions have limits. For example, Amphipolis refuses to rejoin Athens during the Peace of Nikias.2 1 Evidently, this result should not count against the success of Brasidas’ plans.2 2 Thucydides implies 2 0 Kallet-Marx takes the words apesteilan auton boulomenon malistci to mean that the Spartans sent Brasidas out mainly because he asked to be sent out (1993:171). Most commentators take the words to mean that the Spartans chose Brasidas as leader (rather than someone else), on the grounds that he was the most enthusiastic about the expedition. According to Kallet-Marx’ interpretation, the authorities in Sparta do not at this point appreciate the strategic potential of the expedition. Brasidas realizes, but they do not, that the way to attack Athens is to make its allies revolt, and to suffocate the city financially. 2 1 Thucydides lists the cities returned to Athens under the treaty at 5.18.5-8. However, the peace treaty turns out to be thoroughly unsatisfactory, leading to another war which Thucydides insists is a continuation of the same war (5.25.3). But Thucydides does not hold Brasidas responsible for this. If Thucydides traces blame back in time to the beginning of Brasidas’ expedition, he lays that blame squarely on the Spartans. 2 2 On the whole, this passage is very flattering to Brasidas. Connor argues soundly that Thucydides is interested here in describing the impression Brasidas gave (1984:130). However, this thesis does not necessarily count against the traditional interpretation that Thucydides praises Brasidas highly in the passage (cf. Brunt 1965:276, Gomme HCT 3:158). In the course of the campaign, Brasidas does not prove to be all good. Homblower CT vol.2 ad loc. argues that Brasidas' promises of protection to Akanthos R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 9 0 with the words hoper epoiesan that Brasidas’ plans and responsibilities only extend to acquiring cities for Sparta to exchange.2 3 Thucydides suggests in this passage, then, that Brasidas’ intentions are specifiable, and that to a large extent they define the way in which the historical results of his campaign should be analyzed. In the last part of this passage Thucydides looks at Brasidas’ achievements against the widest historical context; he argues that the expedition played a large role in events after the Sicilian expedition and during the Ionian War. In the last two sentences, amount to peijury (4.87.1, 88.1). But there is no reason to expect 4.81 to contain Thucydides’ complete and final judgment on Brasidas. On the other hand, Thucydides does appear to condemn the Spartans here. It is hard not to read the passage in the light of the previous chapter, which describes how the Spartans murdered 2000 helots. By implication, the Spartans regarded Brasidas’ expedition as another way to get rid of helots. Thucydides suggests that the Spartans would sacrifice anything to win the war and to get back the 120 Spartiates captured on Sphakteria. 2 3 The infinitive result clause I discussed in note 19 specifies another result apart from the return of territory. The second result is lophesis [gignesthaij (“bringing about the cessation of war”). I think that it would be more natural to interpret this result as a consequence of the first result, rather than as a parallel one. In any case, Thucydides praises Brasidas for bringing about the possibility of an end to the war. By associating Brasidas’ project and the quest for peace in 4.81, Thucydides counters the more personal judgment given at the end of the narrative that Brasidas wanted to continue the war to achieve more personal glory (5.16.1). This statement has usually been taken as proof of Brasidas’ bellicose nature. The present passage suggests that Brasidas is not responsible for the length of the war. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 9 1 Thucydides traces the psychological effects of Brasidas’ intervention. He claims Brasidas causes an epithumia for Sparta felt by Athens’ allies, and that he makes the allies feel an elpis bebaios that the Spartans will support them against Athens. Thucydides attributes these emotions to the cities’ perception of Brasidas’ personal excellence, and to the reputation he has fostered.2 4 It is worth stressing that Thucydides 2 4 There is some interpretive dispute about the last sentence of 4 .8 1 .1 have given Connor’s translation because it is the best translation of the passage on the whole. However, I believe he misses the true sense of this final sentence. Thucydides writes: TrpcbTos y a p 8^eX0cbv xat 8o£a$ elvai koto TTccvTa a y a 0 o s eA-m'Sa EyicaTeAiTTe (3E(3aiov. I believe that this phrase should be translated: “Since he was the first to go out, and since he gained a reputation for being excellent in every way, he left a secure hope.” In this version, I follow Gomme in coordinating the two participles exelthon and doxas, and I do not supply protos with doxas (cf. HCT 3:549). And following Connor, I believe both participles together explain the main verb “he left a secure hope.” By contrast, Connor supplies protos with doxas, giving: “for since he was the first to go out from Sparta and have the reputation for being excellent in all respects.” According to Connor’s interpretation, there were other Spartans who went abroad, but Brasidas was the first to establish a good reputation for Sparta and to eclipse the bad reputation of his predecessors. Moreover, Connor’s rendering suggests that Brasidas’ personal presence was not a decisive factor in itself. To be sure, Thucydides claims in the previous sentence that the elpis bebaion extended across the whole Athenian empire— it obviously went well beyond those states which Brasidas actually visited. However. Thucydides makes clear here that the elpis bebaion originated in the feelings of those subject citizens who encountered Brasidas at first hand, and that it then spread throughout the Athenian empire by the power of reputation or gossip {ton men peirai aisthomenon, ton de akoei nomisanton). To sum up, I take (A) Brasidas’ being the first to go out to Thrace, and (B) his reputation for being excellent in every respect, as two necessary conditions for the “secure hope.” Connor takes only (B) as a necessary condition for it. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 9 2 does not measure Brasidas’ achievement by a concrete standard such as the number of cities he persuades to revolt, but by a psychological standard. This psychological standard enables Thucydides to make an argument about the long term effects of Brasidas’ campaign rather than its short term consequences. In this passage, Thucydides invites the reader here to compare the Chalkidian cities’ view of Athenian weakness to his description of apparent Athenian weakness after the Sicilian expedition (4.1 OS. I-4: cf. 8.1-2). In his speeches, Brasidas’ words (focalization F2) have significance both for present circumstances and future events. Of course, Brasidas cannot anticipate the particularities of later events, so he cannot know exactly how later people will associate contemporary events with his campaign. Moreover even in the present Brasidas’ views (F2) are not identical to the northern states’ focalizations (F3), even though at the time most citizens are thoroughly convinced by his words. One of the main arguments in this chapter is that Brasidas has an understanding of people’s thought processes and of the workings of human memory. Thucydides suggests in this passage that the later recollections of Brasidas, influenced both by peira and akoe, represent a distillation of Brasidas’ character and actions. Later people, as they see acts of initiative, resistance, and bravery, are reminded of Brasidas and of the potential for resistance he represented. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 193 By establishing a psychological standard of achievement for Brasidas, Thucydides argues for connections between the feelings inspired by Brasidas during his campaign and those brought by later events. In the Brasidas narrative, Thucydides draws a firm link between Brasidas’ immediate intentions and the results. But as I argued above, Thucydides emphasizes the limits on Brasidas’ long term intentions and responsibilities. Despite Thucydides’ ambitious claims about the effects of Brasidas’ campaign, he does not present Brasidas as one of the most prescient characters. In the third chapter, I will discuss a few characters who make ambitious and accurate long term predictions about the future. Thucydides seems to limit Brasidas’ concerns to the current campaign and the prospect of peace with Athens (cf. esp. 5.12.1, 5.16.1). In contrast to the practitioners of general knowledge, Brasidas does not look more than a year or so into the future. But within this historical frame, no character has a wider or more powerful vision. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 9 4 Part Two: Brasidas’ Dealings with Friends and Enemies Brasidas’ negotiations with Perdikkas (4.83) and his speech at Akanthos (4.85-7) show how Brasidas presents himself to other people. His relationship with both is rather complex. Perdikkas, though a sponsor of the expedition, wants to use the army to suppress a challenge by his neighbor, the king Arrabaios. Brasidas, unwilling to spend his resources on this project right away, soon makes an enemy of Perdikkas. The Akanthians have also made contributions to Brasidas, but like many of the Chalkidian cities, they are divided politically. These people could also become either Brasidas’ friend or his enemy. In these episodes, Brasidas turns out to be a supreme manipulator. Thucydides constructs the narrative to illustrate Brasidas’ insight into people’s aims and intentions. At many points in the narrative, Thucydides shows how Brasidas looks at a situation more broadly than other characters. The other people look only at their own relatively immediate interests, while Brasidas can envision more long term objectives. Furthermore, Brasidas has intellectual access to other people’s analyses, while those people do not have access to Brasidas’ own analyses. Brasidas can manipulate people’s vision of their own interests and can manipulate the way they see him. Thucydides has introduced this side of Brasidas’ character in 4.81; in the narrative which follows he shows these skills in action. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 95 Brasidas antagonizes Perdikkas by attempting to negotiate with king Arrabaios rather than invading his territory. Thucydides contrasts Brasidas’ focalization with that of Perdikkas (4.83.2-4,4.83.5-6). Perdikkas is concerned with the immediate justice of the situation according to the sponsorship agreement, since he believes it ties Brasidas into acting as he wishes.2 5 But Brasidas looks at the purpose of that agreement, and at the process of negotiation which led to the arrangement. Thucydides contrasts Perdikkas’ short term view with Brasidas’ relatively long term view. He reinforces the point about Brasidas’ breadth of vision with the words koinei mallon: Brasidas’ focalization is broad not only in that he perceives long term consequences, but also because he sees how his actions will affect different parties: Perdikkas, Arrabaios, the Chalkidians, the Spartans, and himself. Brasidas may, like Perdikkas, have personal 2 5 See Connor 1984:132 for more discussion of this passage. In particular, he points out the quasi-legal vocabulary in the passage. Both characters justify their position using the technicalities of the contract. Perdikkas says that Brasidas' role is that of hit-man (kathairetes) rather than arbitrator (dikastes). Perdikkas believes that his financial contribution gives him authority, and that Brasidas' breach of that authority is an injustice (adikesein, adikeisthai: 4.83.5). Brasidas realizes that Perdikkas has promised to make the surrounding cities friendly to Sparta; he uses this promise as the basis of his argument. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 196 reasons for his chosen course of action, but he is able to justify his proposals by describing realistically the goals and intentions of various different people. Brasidas’ speech at Akanthos (4.85-87) demonstrates his ability to appeal to other people’s interests, while using them for his own purposes. It is the only extended political speech Brasidas gives in the History, and it shows clearly how Brasidas encourages the Chalkidian cities to leave Athens. Thucydides gives a summary of Brasidas’ speeches on other occasions (4.114.3, 4.120.3); here he states explicitly that Brasidas’ Akanthian speech forms a paradigm for the later speeches. For the purposes of the narrative, then, the Akanthian speech records Brasidas’ articulation of his ongoing goals, and defines the way various Chalkidian cities view B rasidas.T hat is to say, the speech expresses the goals and intentions which Brasidas is able to get his audiences to believe, whether or not he himself believes that these goals are realistically achievable. Brasidas gives carefully selected facts that describe his intentions persuasively. It is true, but not enough, to observe that Brasidas’ speech contains 2 6 Homblower CT2:49 refers to Brasidas’ series of appearances in various cities as a “campaign trail,” and to his series of speeches as a “periodically adjusted manifesto.” R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 9 7 falsehoods.2 7 Thucydides later comments on the falsity of Brasidas’ claims at Akanthos (ou ta onta: 4.108.5); however, these words refer to specific statements rather than to the speech as a whole. Brasidas mixes truth and falsehood in a persuasive manner; he persuades the Akanthians because he understands so well the audience’s wishes, fears, and state of knowledge. Throughout the speech, Brasidas keeps hitting the idea of freedom.2 8 Brasidas uses freedom as the Akanthians’ goal, and at one point identifies himself with freedom (4.85.5). That is, Brasidas represents himself to the Akanthians as the means (indeed the only means) to their goal of autonomy. The narrative up to now suggests that this claim is substantially sincere. Some readers have argued that throughout the campaign, Brasidas is mainly out for personal gain and glory.2 9 There is certainly evidence for this view in the later stages of the campaign (4.120.3-121.2, 5.9, 5.11, 5.16.1). However this does not seem to be the case at the beginning of the campaign. If Brasidas wants to 2 7 See Hunter 1982:146. 281 count thirteen terms expressing concepts of freedom-nine of cognates of eleutheria, two of autonomia, and two of douleia— in two and a half pages of OCT. 2 9 Cf. Hunter 1982:146 and Connor 1984:136-40. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 19S achieve personal glory through his actions at Akanthos, he wants to achieve it by fulfilling the promises he makes to the Akanthians. This purpose also underlies the Amphipolis narrative (4.102-6). At this stage in the campaign, Brasidas intends to gain or capture as many Chalkidian cities as possible; he believes that if he gains enough of them, he could indeed spark a mass revolt of allied cities. Brasidas is successful in convincing his audience at Akanthos that his presence is the first stage in this process. In terms of focalization, then, this speech represents Brasidas’ expression (F2) of the northern cities’ wishes (F3) to participate in a widespread revolt from Athens. Within the speech, the term “freedom” operates on these two levels of focalization. Brasidas uses the term eleutheria as a synonym for “revolt,” (4.85.1, 4.86.1), and he uses autonomia in the same way (4.87.4). In this last instance he uses the term to represent the collective interests and goals of all the allies as distinct from those of the Akanthians. At the end of the speech Brasidas imposes his own interests on the Akanthians by threatening to besiege the city and ransack the country; however, Brasidas maintains that if he does so, the Akanthians will be responsible, because they have lost sight of the interest of Greece as a whole in their action. The other Chalkidian cities, Brasidas contends, define the true interests of Akanthos. Since Brasidas persuades his audience, his claims in the speech (F2) correspond closely to the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 9 9 focalization of his audience (F3). And since this speech represents what Brasidas believes he can achieve at this stage in the campaign, his arguments (F2) also correspond closely to his own intentions. Later in the campaign, we can argue for an “ironic distance” between Brasidas’ focalizations (F2) and his own expectations or intentions.3 0 In Brasidas’ speech at Akanthos, we notice this ironic distance in certain comments about past events, such as the Athenian action at Nisaia. But in Brasidas’ main argument in this speech, this ironic distance is hard to detect. Brasidas’ speech at Akanthos presents a believable view of the Greek world, and of the main actors within it. Brasidas presents the interests and actions of the northern states, the Athenians, the Spartans, and himself in realistic terms. At the beginning of 3 0 The extraordinary treatment of Brasidas by the citizens of Skione (4.121), Mende (4.123), and Amphipolis (5.11.1), represents an attitude which is different in scale, but not in kind, from the focalization (F3) which Brasidas inspires in the Akanthians. It is clear at Skione for example that Brasidas uses his own celebrity, that he is deliberately trying to inspire euphoric and even irrational behavior in his audience. In these instances, there is clearly a gap, or “ironic distance,” between the audience’s analysis (F3) and his own beliefs about the prospects of his campaign. To an extent, an ironic gap also exists between his analysis (F2) at 4.120.3-5 and the reaction of the citizens. But in his speech at Skione, I will argue, Brasidas’ analysis is ingenious but quite wrong. So either Brasidas is wrong at Skione, or he uses arguments he does not believe himself. Brasidas’ subsequent behavior suggests that the latter is the correct interpretation. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 200 the speech, Brasidas points to tangible realities of the situation: his own arrival, the closed gates, the size of his army, and the absence of Athenians. He uses these observations as signals of the potentialities of the situation. Thucydides has given certain pieces of information, such as the covert contributions from certain Chalkidian cities, and the closed gates at Akanthos (4.79.2, 4.83.3, 4.84.1) which enable the reader to infer that Akanthos contains a pro-Brasidas group and a pro-Athenian group.'1 Like Megara, the city is in a state of stasis (4.88.1; cf. 4.66.3). Brasidas uses these pieces of information for his own rhetorical ends. The Akanthian speech contains a synecdochic move, in which Brasidas identifies himself with Sparta (4.85.4-6). Brasidas suggests that he represents the new, friendly, and supportive Sparta, a city which is now devoting itself to freeing the Greek world from Athens. In other words, Brasidas redefines his city to reflect his own character, or at least the character he projects of himself. In turn, this conceit enables Brasidas to represent himself as liberation, both for the Akanthians and for all of the 3 1 The closed gates and the stasis within the city (4.84.1, 4.88.1) suggest that Akanthos is one of the cities which has sponsored Brasidas’ expedition (4.79.3). But Thucydides tells us at 4.84 that in fact only one faction has given its support. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 201 Greeks.3 2 Since the revolt has not yet happened, he demonstrates that he is the one and only opportunity for freedom. Brasidas gives his audience what may appear to be a free choice, but at the same time he uses his rhetorical skills to push them in the direction he wishes. Throughout his career, in fact, Brasidas uses this type of “weighted free choice” to get people to act in the way he wants. For instance, at 4.87.4 he makes the paradoxical threat to “force” the Akanthians to “be free.” 3 3 Brasidas makes sure the audience know that the choice whether to revolt is up to them; however, he makes it perfectly clear that he will make 3 2 The opening remarks about embodying Sparta’s role in the Greek world, and his presentation of “freedom” as the Akanthians’ goal, are idealistic. By contrast, the ending of the speech is intensely realistic, especially when Brasidas describes what he will be forced to do if the audience refuses him access to the city. The blend of idealism and realism in this speech seems to fit Brasidas’ character. It would be natural for the beginning of such an ambitious expedition to be conducted in a spirit of idealism; however, Brasidas is also ruthless in his pursuit of goals, and cannot be deviated from his course by niceties like pity for the fate of cities he tempts into revolt, by empty elpis, or by considerations of duty regarding Perdikkas. The combination of idealism and realism in the speech is not absolutely seamless, as we see at 4.87.4. 3 3 Cogan 1981:82 calls this argument “a most cynical paradox.” The Akanthians bear the responsibility for their own choice of action; nevertheless, Brasidas does everything within his military and rhetorical powers to make them choose one course of action and reject another. Brasidas uses moral arguments, threats, oaths, and the promise of glory to weight their free choice. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 202 life as difficult as possible for them if they choose against him. So Brasidas does not on the whole just threaten people. It is crucial for Brasidas’ reputation (e.g. his dikciiosyne) that the Akanthians have a choice, and that this choice is voluntary. While the reader may conclude that the Akanthians open their doors to Brasidas because of his threats, Brasidas himself is able to claim afterwards that the Akanthians chose to receive him of their own volition. This is the essence of a weighted free choice. Brasidas has already presented a similar choice to his adversaries and friends at Megara, and he uses it later at Amphipolis and Torone (4.70.2,4.105.2,4.114.3-5). In framing the argument at Akanthos, he makes the same kind of intellectual move as he makes with Perdikkas. Brasidas looks at the situation in the light of the interests of all the states of Greece: they have an appetite for freedom. Like other figures, Brasidas has personal motives such as his own glory, and is candid about this (charis, time, doxa 4.86.3; doxa: 4.87.6). In the speech as a whole Brasidas shows an appreciation of the way in which his own personal glory is perceived by others, and of the way in which these perceptions lead to new actions. In short, Brasidas’ presentation of focalizations (F2) which are adopted by the northern Greeks (F3) is in itself historically important. To a large extent, his speech articulates the subsequent motivations of the northern Greeks. These focalizations also point towards Thucydides’ own historical analysis. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 3 I now turn to Brasidas’ military engagements. The first three major military interventions occur at Megara, Amphipolis, and Torone. Looking at them together, we can detect a pattern which dovetails neatly with the kinds of intelligence I have already described. Brasidas exhibits operational expertise just like that of Demosthenes and Phormion.3 4 At Megara, the unsuccessful surprise tactics used by Demosthenes at 4.72 are closely paralleled by the action of Brasidas.3 5 And in the battle of wits at 4.73, extracted at the head of the chapter, we can see each set of commanders using their operational expertise to project what the other is thinking.3 6 The cognitive moves 3 4 Brasidas’ capture of Torone while Athenian guards are sleeping, seems for example to be the product of operational expertise. It employs similar surprise tactics to those used by Demosthenes, and also resembles the tactics proposed by Brasidas and Knemos (2.93-4), and Teutiaplos (3.30). See Lateiner 1975, discussed below. 3 5 The action of the two generals affords some very precise parallels: both generals split off a part of their force and approach the city, and use initiative (iT E ip o c o a i: 4 .7 0 .2 - 7 T 6 ip a a 0 a i: 4.66.1); they evade the enemy (A a Q c b v t o u $ ’A 0 r iv c u o u s : 4 .7 0 .2 - rja 0 6 T O o u 5 e\$ : 4.67.2); they intend to use a combination of force and negotiation: (tg j A o y c p Kcri a p a . ei S u v a i T o . e p y c p r f f t N iaatag T r e i p a a a i : 4 .7 0 .2 ~ a n o r e t c o v e p y c o v kcci t c o v A o y c o v T ra p E O K E U a o T o : 4.67.1). 3 6 In the analyses of the situation attributed to them at 4.73.1-3 and 4.73.4, Brasidas and Demosthenes are both presented as being able to see the situation from their own point of view and the enemy’s, but it is Brasidas who is truly in control. To the extent that Demosthenes can see the enemy’s disposition, he agrees with Brasidas’ analysis, and does not come up with action of his own. In particular, Demosthenes' justification for R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 4 Brasidas makes here are reminiscent of those of Demosthenes at Pylos.3 7 At Argilos, Amphipolis and Torone, Brasidas uses strategies very similar to those of Demosthenes collected in table #1 (page 117): for instance surprise, evasion, pre-dawn attack, speed and chaos.3 8 Brasidas also demonstrates improvisatory skills such as taking dinner early. inaction, [if] avxnTaXov eivai aqnai t o v ki' v S u v o v , recalls Brasidas’ judgment of the situation as an advantage for his side. While Brasidas does not expressly follow through the implications if the Athenians attack, he is clearly conscious of an advantage in such a situation ( e5 s i£ ccv EToijioi o v t e $ dpuvEaOai). The main reason for thinking that Brasidas enjoys a cognitive advantage is that his focalization (F2) additionally includes consideration of the mood of the people within the city; consequently, he merely needs to produce what seems like victory to them. 3 7 The long sentence of analysis is introduced by a double prediction: k c c A c o s Se e v o h i ^ o v a<pioiv dp<poTEpa e x e i v . These words are reminiscent of Demosthenes’ habit, prominent at Pylos, of assessing a situation in terms of advantage for his side or for the enemy. In his speech at 4.10.2, Demosthenes analyzes certain factors as advantages: Eycb S e k c u t c c ttA e i'c o opcb Trpos qpcbv o v ra . He analyzes other factors as disadvantages: Trporepov uev y a p ouaqs a u ffjs uAco5ou$ . . . < p o (3 e T to k c u Trpos t c o v TroXEptcov t o u t o e v o |j i £ e (iaXXov e T v c u (4.29.3). 3 8 In his night march to Argilos at 4.103-4, Brasidas demonstrates the same kind of strategy of surprise that we have seen in Demosthenes’ campaigns: he evades the Amphipolitans (X o Q e T v ), attacks before dawn (Trpo e c o ) , when there are few on guard (cpuXctKq . . . PpaxsTa), captures the bridge easily (pccS(cos), arriving unexpectedly (d-rrpoaSoKf|Toi$ irpoonEacbv), and suddenly arrives on the scene at Amphipolis (euOus. acpvco), and creates havoc inside the city (0opu(3ov).The narrative of Brasidas’ campaign at Torone shows Brasidas using the same strategy of surprise. On this occasion, Brasidas makes use of surprise by arriving before dawn (4.110), and he uses light armed troops (4.111.1), a swift attack (4.112.1), takes the enemy in the rear (4.110.2), and instills panic in the enemy (4.112.1). The tactics used in this episode seem remarkably similar to those used by Demosthenes: the seven light armed men who R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 5 and marching through storm and snow. Demosthenes used very similar tactics at Idomene (3.112.1), and Phormion uses a different kind of improvisation at Naupaktos (2.92.1). Leaders with operational expertise are aware of the normal logistical limitations on military capability, and they know how to get around them and confound enemy expectations. Brasidas does this at Argilos by taking dinner early.3 9 sneak round the other side of the city and enter unnoticed (4.110.2) are reminiscent of the division of Messenians who pick their way along the path only they know and surprise the enemy in the rear (4.36.2); the Athenians caught sleeping in the marketplace (4.113.2) recall the sleeping Amprakiots surprised by Demosthenes at Idomene (3.112.3). Both commanders are experts in making surprise attacks, identifying weaknesses in the enemy, and making the most out of a relatively small force. These correspondences have been used by Connor 1984:127 and especially Babut 1981 passim to argue that Thucydides is making an express comparison between the Brasidas campaign and Demosthenes’ Pylos campaign. My own view of these correspondences is that they serve less to contrast individual campaigns than to point out similarities in strategy and military leadership. 3 9 The enemy’s expectations are based on the normal limitations of this style of military campaign: assumptions could be made, for example, that an army is unlikely to move far at night and will have to stop for meals. Brasidas confounds these assumptions. The words S E iT T V O T r o tr ia d u E v o s E x c o p E i r r i v v u k t c c (4.103.1) are paralleled at 3.112.1: o 8 e A r |t i o a 0 E v r i s S s i T r v r i a a g Excopsi. The vocabulary is unparalleled until book eight, and the association with the verb x ^ p eiv is striking. The detail of taking dinner at an unexpected time becomes extremely prominent in the battle in the great harbor at Syracuse at 7.39-40. By bringing market stalls down to the shore, the Syracusans are able, after a hard day’s fighting, to set out again and attack the hungry and exhausted Athenians. Thucydides lays weight on this as the main reason for the Syracusans’ first naval victory over the Athenians. Brasidas’ march through the night allows him to arrive on the doorstep of Amphipolis without having been seen (lathe in: 4.103.2 ~ 3.112.1; pro ed 4.103.4 -3.112.4, 4.32.2). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 206 In his military engagements, however, Brasidas goes beyond normal operational expertise. A practitioner of operational expertise like Demosthenes knows how Greek land warfare creates expectations in the enemy. However, his knowledge of the enemy is limited, both in time and in extent. Demosthenes, for example, looks only towards tne coming engagement; he does not construct a whole campaign but takes each battle as it comes. Moreover, he appears to be successful and intelligent precisely because his enemy is stupid; that is, his victims do not appreciate the importance of light armed troops in hilly and bushy terrain. His expectations about the enemy seem to set by the kinds of strategies I picked out in the table in chapter one. While Demosthenes demonstrates real skill in applying those strategies to particular situations, those same strategies seem to straitjacket his cognition. Demosthenes fails to get into Megara precisely because he concentrates on material tactics, and does not know how to use psychological techniques like Brasidas’ weighted free choice. In the face-off outside Megara, Demosthenes and Brasidas can each to an extent read the other’s mind. However, Brasidas is truly in control. He gives Demosthenes a weighted free choice whether to attack or withdraw. Brasidas correctly predicts that Demosthenes will choose R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 7 the latter option, because he has made that alternative more attractive. In the military campaigns, Brasidas at times demonstrates the classic features of operational expertise. But Brasidas adds to it another level of complexity, namely psychological control. Most of Brasidas’ successful campaigns--for instance, the defense of Megara and the seizure of Amphipolis— rely on psychological expertise. In particular, they reveal insight into people’s pursuit of goals.4 0 It is Brasidas’ deep understanding of the conflict of the Megareans (4.73.1, 4.71.2) which leads him to understand what is required to give the oligarchs control in the city. Thucydides attributes to him an awareness of the way his own action will affect the Athenians’ thoughts and the Megareans’ thoughts. In particular, Brasidas realizes that he only needs to produce an apparent victory, and make the Athenian force seem unwilling to defend the city (4.73.2). Demosthenes fails because he establishes no clear link between his own action and the cognition of others; nevertheless, the analysis at 4.73.4 shows him mentally discussing the implications of the situation in his usual fashion. Brasidas, by contrast, 4 0 We can find patterns among the motives of Brasidas’ audience in the narrative of his campaigns at Akanthos, Amphipolis, and Megara. They appear to represent Brasidas’ understanding of the ways people react when presented with the achievable prospect of power (Megarean oligarchs and Amphipolitans) and freedom (Akanthians and Amphipolitans). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 8 controls the Megareans’ view of events, and so in a sense he controls them. Brasidas knows how his own action will be interpreted; he gives signs of his own intentions, and of what the enemy will have to do to achieve their aims. By this means, Brasidas makes people freely choose the course of action that suits him.4 1 At Amphipolis, Brasidas makes himself out as more powerful than he actually is. He uses operational expertise more as a demonstration of power than to produce outright results, since conflict is the only military proof. Brasidas wants to present possibilities rather than enforce necessities. At 4.81, Thucydides pairs Brasidas’ successes achieved through perception of his good qualities with those achieved by military means. The Amphipolis narrative juxtaposes his dikaiosyne and metriotes with his military presence; Brasidas not only gets the citizens to recognize his good qualities, but he gets them to do so when they are expecting an attack or siege. Brasidas manages 4 1 Brasidas leaves both the Megareans and the enemy a weighted free choice of action, like the weighted free choice he gave the Akanthians. Whatever pressure Brasidas is applying, the other parties still have a measure of free choice in their decision what action to take, and thus bear responsibility for their own actions. In his speech at Akanthos (4.85.7), Brasidas misrepresents the relative numbers in this military confrontation. He makes the Athenians appear more timid than they really were, and minimizes his audience’s fear of Athenian reprisals. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 0 9 to produce two different and theoretically conflicting perceptions of himself. This explanation for Brasidas’ success at Amphipolis ties in neatly with Thucydides’ account of the various focalizations (F3) which Brasidas has produced throughout his campaign. The relation between these passages shows that at 4.81 Thucydides is explaining, psychologically, the peculiar power of Brasidas rather than simply giving his own judgment on him. Words in the narrative focalized by the Argilians (4.103.2) draw attention to Brasidas’ recognition of their ambitions and aims. Brasidas uses them as a stepping- stone into Amphipolis; he aligns his own aims with those of the Argilians (whom he knows to be suspicious of Amphipolis) and presents himself as the kciiros. Brasidas made a similar move in his speech at Akanthos and at Megara (4.85.3-6, 4.73.4). Brasidas repeatedly represents himself as the opportunity for freedom and salvation. In each of these three places, Brasidas suggests that his immediate aims coincide with their own. It is crucial to Brasidas’ argument about his own goodness that he assume the role of liberator, and that the cities and enemies make free choices. Brasidas is not reading people’s minds, but is using commonsense intuitions about the intentions lying behind R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 210 action. He is able to do this at the moment of action, because the situation reveals the quite natural and human pattern of aims and action. During the course of Brasidas’ campaigns, we notice a redefinition of factors which had for Demosthenes a purely military significance, such as opportunity and surprise; Brasidas invests them with a psychological dimension. Those military analyses are effective because they analyze human action within a certain cognitive context, and produce results which are to some extent predictable. Brasidas extends that context of interpretation into a psychological realm: his actions depend for their efficacy on people’s natural reactions to surprise, and to the perception of opportunity. Brasidas appeals to people’s basic wish to be free (and in the case of the Megarean oligarchs, the wish to control others). It is important to stress that Thucydides is not making unrealistic claims about Brasidas’ abilities. He does not claim that Brasidas has complete access to people’s minds, or that he controls the way they think. Brasidas does realize that he has some influence on their psychology, and that he can use this to control their action to some extent. Brasidas is presented as doing just enough, psychologically speaking, to bring R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 211 the Argilians and Amphipolitans around; at Megara, Akanthos and Amphipolis, he does just enough militarily. In the last chapter we have seen the essence of the kairos, the imposition of a fleeting rational control on events, which lasts long enough to come up with action which changes the course of events. We could say that at Argilos and Amphipolis, Brasidas is able to produce a psychological kairos as well as an operational kairos. Lateiner 1975 provides a useful parallel to the military episodes in the Brasidas narrative. His excellent and through discussion of the speech of Teutiaplos points out many parallels between it and the proposed raid on Peiraeus at 2.94.4 2 He considers both proposals well suited to the situation, taking into account the resources available to the Spartans, and considering what they hope to accomplish. These pieces of planning are never acted upon, but they bear a striking resemblance to the military campaigns of 4 2 Lateiner 1975:176-7 sets out the verbal reminiscences between Teutiaplos speech and the proposed raid. These parallels display the cognitive framework of a strategy designed to create surprise: Brasidas and Knemos and Teutiaplos both advise an attack quickly (3.29.1 ~ 2.93.2), immediately (3.30.1 ~ 2.93.2), and by night (3.30.3 ~ 2.93.4). The enemy is to be caught in a state of overconfidence (3.30.2 ~ 2.93.1), unawares (3.30.2 ~ 2.93.3), unprepared (3.30.2 ~ 2.93.1,94.4), and unguarded (3.30.2 ~ 2.93.1,3). Though neither of these plans are carried out, Thucydides’ conviction that the Peiraeus raid would have been successful (2.94.1) strengthens Teutiaplos’ prediction of success (3.30.4). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 212 Demosthenes and Phormion. They exhibit operational expertise. Lateiner goes on to discuss the importance of these episodes to Thucydides. Lateiner argues that Teutiaplos7 speech effectively characterizes the Spartans in relation to the Athenians; however, he suggests that the main function of the speech is to illustrate an important historical opportunity that was lost: Alkidas’ failure had as important consequences the absence for fifteen years of Spartan ships in the Eastern Aegean and the rarity of rebellions by Athens’ subjects that this entailed. . . . The Saronic Gulf adventure had no sufficiently serious and lasting purpose to merit a speech. Thucydides, that is, can measure a situation’s importance by potential, as well as actual, results. Lateiner 1975:182 I find Lateiner’s views on Thucydides’ purpose in presenting this episode absolutely convincing. This passage is relevant to the discussion above in two main ways. The first point concerns Thucydides’ technique of narrative shaping. Lateiner argues that by devoting a considerable section of text to a non-event, Thucydides shows how Spartan assumptions and fears about Athenian naval power play a lasting role in the History. The intrusion of contemporaneous but only tangentially related events can be observed twice in the Brasidas narrative. These apparent digressions suggest a similar R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 213 interpretation to the one Lateiner has suggested for the Teutiaplos speech. The Deiion episode illustrates the fact that Athens is not paying sufficient attention to developments in Chalkidike (4.89-101). This lack of attention in turn explains the Athenian fears after the fall of Amphipolis. Second, the Lynkos narrative has an important function in showing how Brasidas’ force is stretched beyond its means (4.124-128). For instance, Mende revolts right before Brasidas disappears into Lynkos with most of his army, and the city is back in Athenian hands by the time Brasidas returns (4.129.1). But perhaps the most important of Lateiner’s ideas for my present purposes is his mention of “potential results.” This notion closely approximates my use of the words “expected results.”4 3 In the next section I discuss the way Thucydides forms expectations about historical results; I use the synthetic passage at 4.108 as material for this discussion. The main argument in this chapter is that Thucydides uses expected results, rather than the actual course of events, in making historical judgments on human action. As Lateiner has shown in his discussion, people’s thought patterns may influence history long after the event which created them. 4 3 Both Lateiner and I are concerned with the options that were available to a character at the time, and with that character’s calculations about material and psychological factors. I argue here that Lateiner’s point can be extended: Thucydides adopts this perspective frequently in his historical narrative, and does so in specifiable ways. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 4 Part Three: Thucydides’ Synthetic Analysis: 4.108 and 4.81 Homblower notes six digressions in the section 4.1-5.24, in which Thucydides pulls away from the sequential narrative and looks at the morale of the Athenians or Spartans (CT 2:109). However, there can be little doubt that two most important of these in the Brasidas episode are the passage at 4.81 and the following passage at 4.108:" ’Exopevris 8 e xfjg ’A p 9 ittoXecos oi ’A 0r|valoi p eya Seos KaTEcrnriaav. aXXcos te Kai o t i n ttoXis auxoTs rjv cb9 EXipos £uXcov te vauTTTiyT)a(pcov Tropirfj Kai xPBPaxcov TrpoaoScp. Kai o t i pexP1 Pev to u Zxpupovos rjv Trapo8os ©eaaaXcbv 8iayovxcov eh 1 xoug £uppaxou$ cnpcov to is AaKESaipoviois. xfis 8 e yEcpupa^ pq Kpaxouvrcov, ocvcoQev pev peyaXris ouaris etti ttoXu Xipvqs to u TroxapoO, x a 8 e Trpos ’Htova TpifipEai xripoupevcov, ouk av 8 u v a a 0 a i ttpoeX0eTv* t o t e 8 e p a 8ia q8ri [evopi^ev] yEyEvfja0ai. Kai XOU5 £u ppaxou$ e9o|3ou vto pf) cnroaxcbaiu. [2 ] o y a p Bpaa(8a$ ev te xoTg aXXois psxpiov EauTov Trapslx^ Kai ev toTs X oyois TravxaxoO e8 f|Xou cos eXeu0 epcoocov xq v 'EXXa8 a E K T T E P 9 0 E {ri. [3] Kai a i ttoXeis m /v0avopEvai a i xcbv ’A0r|va{cov utrf|Kooi xfjs te 'Ap9 nr6XEcos xqv aXcoaiv Kai a TrapsxeTai, xqv te ekeivou TrpaoxTiTa, paXicrra 8f] ETrqpOqaav es t o vecotepi£eiv. K O I E T T EK T ipU K E U O V TO T T pO S OUTOV KpU9 a , E T T lT T a p IE V O I T E keXeuovxes koi {UouXopsvoi auxoi EKaaxoi rrpcbxoi aTToaxfivai. [4] Kai y a p Kai a 8 Eia E 9 aivExo auxoTs, EvpsuapEvois pev xfis ’A0riva(cov 8uvapEcos etti tooou xov oari uaxEpov SiE9 avri, xo 8 e ttXeov P o u X f j a E i Kpivovxss a o a 9 Ei q Tipovoia a a 9 a X E i . e i c o 0 6 x e s oi av0pco7Toi oO pev ETTi0upoOaiv eXtt(8 i dnEpiaKETTTcp 8 i8ovai, o 8 e pf) TrpoaiEvxai Xoyiapcp auTOKpaxopi 8ico0Ela0ai. [ 5 ] ap a 8 e xcbv ’Aoqvaicov ev toTs BoicoxoTs vecoot'i TTETtXpypEvcov Kai xou B p aai8ou E 9 0 X K C X Kai ou x a o v x a XdyovTos, cos auxcp etti ISIiaaiav xrj EauxoO povq a x p a x ia ouk fi0EXriaav oi ’A0qvaToi 8up(3aXElv, E 0apaouv Kai ettioxeuov ppB sva a v etti acpas (3ori0fjaai. [6 ] xo 8 e pEyiaxov, 81a x o f|8ovfiv exov ev xcb auxiKa koi o t i t o Trpdbxov AaKESaipovicov op ycb vxcov epeXXov 441 have inserted section numbers for clarity. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 5 TreipdaEO0ai. kivSuveueiv TravTi Tpoucp etoT|_ioi fjaau. cov aiaOavopiEvoi ol uev ’AOrjvaToi 9 uXaKa9 , cos oXiyou xat ev Xeincovi. B iE T T E jiT T O v e$ Tots ttoXeis. o 5e es Tqv AaKESafiaova E<piE{iEvos a r p a n d v t e TrpoaairoaTeXXeiv ekeXeue Kai auTos ev tc o ZTpunovi vauuriyiau Tptripcou TrapEaKEua^ETo. [7 ] oi S e AaKESainovioi tci uev Kai 90ovcp o tto tco v TrpcoTcov avSpcbv ou x vTTTipETTiaav auTcp, Ta Se <a\ (SouXouevoi uaXXov tous te a v S p a s to u s ek ttIs vriaou Kop(oaa0ai <ai t o u ttoXehov KaTaXuaai. The news that Amphipolis was in the hands of the enemy caused great alarm at Athens. Not only was the town valuable for the timber it afforded for shipbuilding, and the money that it brought in: but also, although the escort of the Thessalians gave the Lacedaemonians a means of reaching the allies of Athens as far as the Strymon, yet as long as they were not masters of the bridge but were watched on the side of Eion by the Athenian galleys, and on the land side impeded by a large and extensive lake formed by the waters of the river, it was impossible for them to go any further. Now, on the contrary, the path seemed open. [2] There was also the fear of the allies revolting, owing to the moderation displayed by Brasidas in all his conduct, and to the declarations which he was everywhere making that he was sent out to free Hellas. [3] The towns subject to the Athenians, hearing of the capture of Amphipolis and of the terms accorded to it, and of the gentleness of Brasidas, felt most strongly encouraged to change their condition, and sent secret messages to him, begging him to come on to them; each wishing to be the first to revolt. [4] Indeed there seemed to be no danger in so doing; their mistake in their estimate of the Athenian power was as great as that power afterwards turned out to be, and their judgment was based more upon blind wishing than upon any sound prevision; for it is a habit of mankind to entrust to careless hope what they long for, and to use sovereign reason to thrust aside what they do not fancy. [5] Besides the late severe blow which the Athenians had met with in Boeotia, joined to the seductive, though untrue, statements of Brasidas, about the Athenians not having ventured to engage his single army at Nisaea, made the allies confident, and caused them to believe that no Athenian force would be sent against them. [6] Above all the wish to do what was agreeable at the moment, and the likelihood that they should find the Lacedaemonians R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 216 full of zeal at starting, made them eager to venture. Observing this, the Athenians sent garrisons to the different towns, as far as was possible at such short notice and in winter; while Brasidas sent dispatches to Lacedaemon asking for reinforcements, and himself made preparations for building galleys in the Strymon. [7] The Lacedaemonians however did not send him any, partly through envy on the part of their chief men, partly because they were more bent on recovering the prisoners of the island and ending the war. 4.108, tr. Crawley This passage is one of the most important in Thucydides, and it plays a central part in the argument of this chapter. Thucydides has chosen a critical point in the narrative, the fall of Amphipolis, to assess the intentions, hopes, and fears of various parties affected by the Brasidas campaign. As a result, it is one of Thucydides’ most complex passages. However, most scholars focus on Thucydides’ general statements about human behavior in the central sections (4.108.3-4). In the following discussion, I will lay out the various views presented in the chapter as a whole. By comparing these various views, and by appreciating the architecture of the whole passage, we can arrive at important conclusions about the relation of thought and action in Thucydides. I have argued that Thucydides presents situations as they appeared to characters at the time, and that he does not expect characters to have knowledge of future consequences, unless they can be deduced securely from the present situation. Demosthenes and Phormion did this by means of operational expertise, and various Spartan generals R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 217 failed to do so for lack of operational expertise. The passage at 4.108 is important specifically because in this instance Thucydides judges characters according to whether they can plot more remote and complex future consequences. Thucydides here expects psychological expertise from his characters. This is just the type of expertise Brasidas has been exhibiting in the narrative. It is worth outlining the content of this passage, and the way scholars usually interpret it. Many scholars have discussed the views of the historian and characters in this passage without using the vocabulary of focalization. Thucydides starts at 4.108.1 by reporting a great fear among the Athenians. Specifically, after Amphipolis’ revolt, the Athenians fear the loss of wood for ships, the loss of tribute from allies, and the possibility of revolts by all the cities in the region. Most commentators agree that 4.108.2 continues to describe this fear: the g ar clause explains the Athenian suspicion that allied revolts are becoming more likely. In section three, according to the usual interpretation, Thucydides shifts attention to the Chalkidian cities. They look at the same events as the Athenians and see an opportunity for revolt; Thucydides finishes this section by claiming that they were competing with one another to join Brasidas first. In this statement, and in the following section (4.108.4), Thucydides states his own R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 1 8 opinion about the allies’ actions and their state of self-deception. Thucydides links these events to a general claim that humans tend to believe what they want to hear, and tend to minimize what they do not. In section 4.108.5, Thucydides returns to reasons for optimism among the Chalkidian cities; this section appears to pick up the train of thought in section 3. Many scholars have drawn attention to Thucydides’ claim that Brasidas’ statements to the cities are “seductive and untrue.” This statement seems to implicate Brasidas in the deception. Section 4.108.6 gives what Thucydides considers the most important reason for Chalkidian optimism: the cities believe that the Spartans are actively supporting them. After describing the provisions made by the Athenians and by Brasidas for the winter, Thucydides finishes the chapter with the contention that the Spartans are not in fact concerned about the Brasidas expedition or the fate of the Athenian allies. The Spartans, he asserts, really care about ending the war and recovering the men captured at Pylos. It is obvious from this summary of the chapter that Thucydides purports to know the thoughts of many different people at this point in history. He claims to understand the state of mind of the Athenians, the Spartans, and some rebellious Chalkidian cities. Thucydides is not claiming to represent the thoughts of any individual in this passage, R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 19 but rather of whole states. This passage describes how each set of people views the situation and links that view to the description of a mood or action. In addition Thucydides separates the various moods before the fall of Amphipolis from those afterwards. One of the crucial features of Thucydides’ description in this passage, then, is the link between views and emotions, and between emotions and motivation for action. While Thucydides assumes such a linkage throughout his work, this passage illustrates it particularly well. Here we have at least three separate groups of characters who see a particular situation in their own way, according to their conflicting intentions. Moreover, some of the most important statements in the chapter are not descriptions of characters’ thoughts, but appear to come from Thucydides alone. Thucydides continually shifts between one character’s view and another’s. By using the tools of narratology, especially focalization, we can separate these different views and show how they relate to the Brasidas narrative as a whole. The major question in any discussion of focalization is “who sees?” In the first chapter, I discussed certain cases of explicit and implicit focalization. In this passage, most of the focalizations are explicit: Thucydides is careful to mark the Athenian fear and the Chalkidian joy as such. In the introduction to the dissertation, I presented R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 0 another way of looking at focalization: I presented a schema of levels of focalization (FI, F2, and F3): level (FI) represents the historian’s own statements; level (F2) represents the statements by a character; and level (F3) represents the interpretation of one character’s words (or focalization) by another character. For now, I leave aside the question of Thucydides’ own judgments, and concentrate on the presentation of characters’ thoughts. Section 4.108.1 exemplifies a relatively complex character’s view. While Thucydides chooses the words in the passage himself, he explicitly presents the content of this section as the thoughts of the Athenians. This content is analytical rather than factual. The section explains the Athenians’ own reasons for thinking that Amphipolis is an important city to them, and that its loss is a serious one. The Athenian analysis recognizes material necessities, such as wood and money, as well as the strategic function of the city. Thucydides explains the latter at length; he makes it clear that Amphipolis’ strategic value depends on recognizing the geography of the whole area. First, the Athenians recognize the different types of advantages Amphipolis provides, both economic and strategic. Secondly, they recognize how the assessment applies over a period of time and how it is subject to change. Most importantly, however, the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Athenians recognize the extent to which the enemy shares their analysis. The Athenians recognize that the Strymon bridge is strategically the key to the whole lower Strymon area; they assume that the Spartans recognize this point too. Now that the bridge has been captured, the Athenians realize that the Spartans are for the first time seriously intending to break the Athenian stranglehold on Thrace. The Athenians focalize not only the situation before and after the fall of Amphipolis; they also envision the enemy’s attitude to this event. The focalization of the Chalkidian cities is arguably even more complex. They regard Brasidas as a liberator, who is likely to start a universal revolt among the Chalkidian cities (4.108.3; cf. 4.108.2). But unlike the Athenians, of course, they wish passionately for this to happen. Following Brasidas, they believe that the Athenians will not challenge them if they revolt (4.108.4). Thucydides criticizes them harshly for this attitude, to be sure. But Thucydides also explains their point of view (4.104.5-6): the Athenians have been defeated in Boiotia, Brasidas misrepresented some crucial facts about the campaign, and the Spartans at last appear to be energetic in supporting revolts. On some level, they do take into account the motivations and likely actions of Brasidas and the major powers. Clearly, the rebellious states are wrong. Thucydides criticizes R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 2 them not only for a lack of foresight, but also for denying facts that were obvious at the time o 8 e p ri T r p o o i e v T a i Xoyiaycp a u r o K p c c T o p i 8 ic o 0 E la 0 a i (“they dismissed what was inconvenient using the calculations that dominated [their thinking]”: 4 .108.4).4 5 Evidently, complexity of focalization is not identical with intelligence. Though they are able to see the situation more broadly than Demosthenes or Phormion, they are certainly not as expert in their field as those generals. Thucydides does not present the Athenians at 4.108.1-2 as particularly intelligent either. However, at this crucial moment, both the Athenians’ and the Chalkidians’ analyses take into account the actions and intentions of all the major players in the situation. Levels of focalization play a crucial part in this passage. Section 4.108.2 illustrates levels (F2) and (F3) particularly well. Level (F2) represents a character’s ability to convey his view of events through speech or performance. Level (F3) refers to the audience’s interpretation of the speaker’s focalization (level F2). This section 4 5 My translation. Scholars have disagreed of the form and role of logismos in this passage. Gomme H C T 4:583 claims that logismdi autokraiori refers to normal human reasoning, even if the context is ironic: ‘T he irony consists in the statement that, after we have made up our minds that we do not like a thing, we use our godlike gift of reason to reject it.” Homblower regards logismdi autokratori as an arbitrary form of reasoning, as something different from true reason (CT 2:344). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 3 mentions Brasidas’ “moderation” and his intention “to free Hellas.” These claims refer to Brasidas’ statements at Akanthos and Amphipolis, and they constitute focalization level (F2). Even though Thucydides’ narrative suggests that the Chalkidians are inclined to believe nearly everything Brasidas says, nevertheless they fit those statements into an analysis about their own situation, and thus their interpretation (F3) may well be distinct from Brasidas’ original words (F2). For instance, Thucydides describes the cities’ optimism after the Athenian defeat at Delion (4.108.5). Brasidas did not speak about Delion at Amphipolis. Previous discussions of this passage have not recognized the distinction between views (F2) and (F3). This distinction helps to resolve a problem that has been noted in almost every discussion of the Brasidas narrative. The essential difficulty lies in the contrast between the two main passages of authorial comment. At 4.81, Thucydides admires Brasidas for getting a large number of cities to revolt. But at 4.108.4, Thucydides criticizes the cities for coming in to him. If Brasidas is expert at foresight, as I have been arguing, it would seem fair to criticize Brasidas for misrepresenting the situation. But Thucydides expressly removes Brasidas from blame, and holds the cities responsible for their own downfall. My analysis of focalization helps resolve this problem. In section 4.108.4 R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 4 Thucydides expresses what in his opinion constitutes “correct” analysis. Thucydides is intensely interested in human decision making. Here and elsewhere, Thucydides expresses strong opinions about what is the right decision in a particular situation. There is a difference, of course, between the historian’s analysis of past events, and a character’s analysis of the present and future. I have argued however that Thucydides tends to present a situation as it appears to a character at the time, and that he does not tend to make retrospective judgments about the character’s decision. If a decision turns out badly, it is often for reasons which were not apparent to the character at the time he made the decision. For instance, Demosthenes seems to be making the right decision to make a night attack at Epipolai (7.42-3), given the circumstances and what has worked for him in the past. But Thucydides’ judgment at 4.108.4 is different. Here, he claims that the result of the Chalkidian revolts was utterly predictable, and that the cities failed for reasons that were absolutely apparent at the time. Thucydides expects the characters to perceive certain future consequences. The most explicit example in this passage is the claim that the Chalkidians decided to deny obvious considerations ( o be pri T T p o o t s v T a i . . . S i c o O e l a S a i ) . In passages such as this, Thucydides makes clear that what he considers “normal” analysis involves R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 5 understanding a system governing events. If Thucydides expects characters to foresee certain consequences, he necessarily believes that they share his own views on human actions and consequences. Thucydides expects, for example, that people will see that Amphipolis is crucial strategically.4 6 He expects people to see how other cities are more inclined to revolt now that Amphipolis has fallen. And he expects them to foresee that Athens will attempt to recover control of the Chalkidian cities.4 7 My discussion of focalization in chapter 4.108 brings out a central feature of this system of expectations. This system relies not only on military knowledge, but also on knowledge about human nature. Both the Athenians and the Chalkidians sketch out the interests and intentions of the other characters affected by their actions. Throughout the whole narrative, the 4 6 Thucydides has described the strategic importance of Amphipolis from the Athenian point of view at 4.108.1; the rest of the passage assumes that the Chalkidians and the Spartans also recognize its strategic importance. 4 7 Thucydides apparently does not expect the historical actors to see what he claims at 4.108.7, that the Spartans are not willing to sponsor Brasidas’ expedition any further. This point only becomes clear later. Brasidas, for example, is still waiting for Spartan support in 4.123. Thucydides does not criticize Brasidas for his naivete; he criticizes the Spartans for failing to use a military opportunity. Brasidas would of course have been aware of political opposition to him in Sparta (4.108.7); presumably, he judged that since the Spartans have decided to send out this expedition, they would be willing to support it if successful. In any case, Thucydides makes clear that it is reasonable for Brasidas to think that Sparta will support him. Similarly, Thucydides judges that it is reasonable for the Chians to revolt in 411, because it is not clear at that stage that Athens has the strength to resist a mass revolt (8.24.5). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 6 ability to perceive the interests and intentions of other characters has also formed a central part of Brasidas’ expertise. Human motivations lie at the core of psychological expertise. But a piece of analysis does not exist on its own. This passage shows how two pieces of analysis can be very different in meaning and value, even if one is ostensibly an echo of the other. Specifically, it illustrates the crucial difference between focalizations level (F2) and level (F3). Brasidas’ words to the people of Akanthos and Amphipolis give a picture of the situation that is slanted towards Brasidas’ own interests. Obviously, he wishes the citizens to open the gates to him and to revolt from Athens. His statements, given in both direct speech and reported speech, constitute focalization (F2). In section 4.108.3-4, Thucydides describes the Chalkidians’ reactions to Brasidas, and explicitly alludes to Brasidas’ original words. According to Thucydides, the Chalkidians believe nearly everything Brasidas says. Their analysis of the situation constitutes focalization (F3). Like the wife in the pulp novel Posh, the Chalkidians view the world in terms laid down by someon& else, and their analysis is profoundly affected by the other person’s interests. In Posh, the magazine editors want R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 7 to sell products; in this passage, Brasidas wants to gather support for the revolt. Many scholars have drawn attention to the way Brasidas misrepresents the situation at Nisaia (4.85.7 cf. 4.108.5). At Akanthos, Brasidas suggests that the Athenians are frightened of him because they did not want to attack when they had the chance to do so at Nisaia. But at 4.108.5 Thucydides recalls the crucial fact that Brasidas had a larger army in that engagement. In my opinion Thucydides is not suggesting that everything Brasidas says is false.4 8 Nor is he suggesting that the cities decided to revolt simply because they were deceived by Brasidas. It is clear in this passage that Thucydides thinks the cities deceived themselves. To be sure, Brasidas does not tell the cities the whole truth in 4.85.7, but he leaves the cities to conclude for themselves that the Athenians are frightened of him. It is natural to exaggerate one’s potential in such a situation. Thucydides expects the citizens to separate Brasidas’ interests from his words and to analyze the situation for themselves. Focalization (F3) is much more dangerous than focalization (F2), because it is not original. It is designed to fit the interests of the focalizer (F2) rather than focalizer (F3). In this case, this view serves Brasidas’ purposes, not those of the Chalkidians. 4 8 Compare Hunter 1982:147. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 2 8 Thucydides’ criticism of the Chalkidians focuses on the issue of human responsibility.4 9 By its nature, a judgment of responsibility tends to focus on a specific human choice. Thucydides claims that the states choose to revolt without considering what Thucydides considers the predictable and likely consequences of their actions (ho . .. me prosientai: 4.108.4). It is important to stress that Thucydides does not simply condemn the decision to revolt in itself. Instead, he criticizes cities such as Skione and Mende for failing to make an intelligent and informed decision about their revolt.5 0 The difference is important. He expects that the cities should be able, on the basis of the knowledge they have at the time, to calculate whether they can deal with the consequences of their revolt. Implicitly, Thucydides sets out criteria for good judgment in this passage. Thucydides expects cities’ action to be judged not by the actual 4 9 In this passage, Thucydides appears to be thinking primarily of cities that revolted after Amphipolis, such as Skione and Mende. If so, Thucydides’ comment on Brasidas’ “seductive and untrue” statements is a little misleading (4.108.5), because he appears to be referring principally to Akanthos. 5 0 Some states, in fact, can revolt and successfully resist an Athenian attack. Later events show that Amphipolis is quite secure militarily; consequently, most readers have assumed that Thucydides exempts Amphipolis from his criticism at 4.108.4. But other states are in a particularly vulnerable situation; for instance, Skione and Mende are located on the vulnerable promontory of Pallene. Thucydides is surely thinking about Skione and Mende in particular, even though he does not specify which cities he is criticizing. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 229 consequences, but by those consequences which could be expected at the time. This point can be seen clearly when we compare this passage with another striking authorial comment on a later revolt. At 8.24.5, Thucydides praises the intelligence of the Chians, and excuses them for revolting at a time when everybody thinks that Athens will fall. As it turns out, Athens is not as weak as its subjects think, and Athens successfully puts down the Chian revolt. The Chians make a good decision, which turns out badly, because they make a reasonable estimation of their ability to revolt in those particular circumstances. If we apply this interpretation to 4.108.4, Thucydides appears to remove cities like Amphipolis and Akanthos from blame. Akanthos revolts before the Athenians are paying any attention. Amphipolis is militarily strong enough to revolt and get away with it. In the event, Sparta tries to hand Amphipolis back to Athens under the terms of the Peace of Nikias; Amphipolis refuses, and Athens never recovers that city. These decisions to revolt are not bad ones. The bad decisions to revolt are those made by states like Skione and Mende, since they are militarily vulnerable, and since they revolt at a time when it is obvious that no Spartan aid will be forthcoming. In the later narrative, Thucydides makes clear that the Skionaians and Mendaians have unrealistic expectations about their revolts (4.122-123). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 0 This reading suggests the foilowing conclusions. Thucydides expects characters to foresee the likely consequences of their actions. While events may not be predictable, human interests are predictable to a great extent. Thucydides expects the Chalkidian cities to recognize that they are directly harming Athenian interests; their revolt is likely to make the Athenians sail against them. At the same time, Thucydides expects them to see that Sparta has no real interest in supporting the revolts. As I have argued above. Thucydides does not believe that these two conditions hold for the revolts by Akanthos and Amphipolis. Thucydides’ expectations only become clear in the aftermath of the fall of Amphipolis. This extended retrospective passage marks a sea change in the Brasidas expedition. After this time, any cities which revolt had better be militarily self- sufficient. The argument above resolves the strange tension between 4.81 and 4.108. In the earlier passage, Thucydides praises Brasidas for stirring so many revolts, while here he blames the cities for deciding to revolt. Thucydides seems to go out of his way to deny Brasidas’ responsibility for the disastrous consequences of some of the revolts. In fact, it appears that Thucydides does not regard Brasidas as responsible at all for the later R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 1 events, even though Brasidas plays a large role in bringing those events about. Thucydides expects each actor to uphold his own interests and to foresee the obvious consequences of his actions. Those actions, in the Chalkidians’ case, obviously affect other people’s interests. The Chalkidians are blind to the interests of the Spartans and Athenians. They, not Brasidas, take the risk of revolt. The same point emerges if we consider the focalizations in this passage. At Skione, Brasidas expresses an opinion in focalization (F2), which actually serves his own interests (4.120.3, 4.122.1). The Skionaians interpret Brasidas’ statements and actions in their own way (F3), without recognizing the self-interest underlying Brasidas’ own words. The Skionaians adopt an unoriginal focalization (F3), which in fact serves Brasidas’ interests. Consequently, when the Chalkidians decide to revolt, they are neglecting their own interests, and are denying the obvious interests of others. Thucydides expects each character to come up with his own focalization, rather than adopt the focalization of others. Characters must not expect other people to look out for their own interests. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 2 Part F our Brasidas against Kleon and the theme of Vision Thucydides’ retrospective passage at 4.108.4 marks an important turning point in the narrative. Although Brasidas has made an extraordinary achievement in gaining the city of Amphipolis, Thucydides shows at this moment that the Athenians are in fact much more committed to recovering the cities than the Spartans are in supporting Brasidas’ expedition further. The participants may have suspected it before, but only in the immediate aftermath of the fall of Amphipolis does it become clear that this is the case. Thucydides frames his retrospective passage around the realization that the Athenians are going to be much more active than the Spartans (4.108.1, 6-7; cf. 4.117.1, 4.122.6, 4.129.1). Henceforth, it becomes extremely unlikely that Brasidas will achieve the ambitious aims which he claimed at Akanthos: to free all the states from Athenian tyranny. But Brasidas was not being dishonest at Akanthos: he may well have believed he could succeed at the time, since he was counting on support from Sparta. Up to this point, as the Athenians’ fears show (4.108.1), it was reasonable to think that Brasidas might pull off a widespread revolt. After the retrospective passage, the reader knows about Sparta’s lack of commitment to the expedition. The characters do not recognize the fact straight after the fall of Amphipolis. Nevertheless, Thucydides judges that by R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 3 the time of Brasidas’ next engagement, the characters have been sufficiently tipped off about Sparta’s motivations. The main cities to come over to Brasidas in this phase of the campaign are Torone, Skione, and Mende.5 1 While Brasidas has to capture Torone by force, the other two cities cannot wait to revolt. Indeed, Mende revolts without Brasidas even making an appearance. Brasidas does not stop telling people he wants to free Greece. And at Skione he seems to enjoy being treated as the great liberator (4.121.1). Nevertheless, as many scholars have pointed out, it is doubtful that at this point Brasidas actually thinks he can achieve a widespread revolt.5 2 The narrative shows clearly that Brasidas is stretched beyond his means. He leaves a small force at Skione and promises to send a larger one, because he wants to use Skionaians and Mendaians to help invest Poteidaiu (4.122.2).5 3 When Perdikkas presses him to join the expedition to Lynkos, he leaves a 5 1 Brasidas captures Torone, apparently intending to make the city his base of military operations in Chalkidike (4.124-129). Despite the expertise Brasidas shows in its capture, Thucydides hints at the tenuous nature of the success (4.110.2, 113.2). 5 2 See for example Connor 1984:136-7. 5 3 Poteidaia is clearly strategically crucial for Brasidas, as it controls the narrow neck of land connecting Pallene with the mainland. If he could gain Poteidaia, it would be much easier to hold Mende and Skione. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 4 skeleton force in Mende (4.123.4).5 4 Arrangements like these are called “smoke and mirrors.” Brasidas probably does not believe his own claims about eventually freeing Greece (4.114.3-5,4.120.3). However, it appears that during this period Brasidas does change his aims towards something more realistic and achievable. Brasidas wants to consolidate his hold on those cities he already possesses. He knows that the Athenians are making preparations to recapture Skione, Mende, and Amphipolis, and he diverts his attention towards defending them. Once Brasidas realizes that support from Sparta will not come, and that he has to resist the Athenians with the force he has, he adjusts his objectives. As I argued in the last section, Thucydides also expects the cities to adjust their objectives, to stop listening to Brasidas’ claims about freeing Greece when the risks of revolt become clear. The revolts of Skione and Mende represent a new stage of Brasidas’ campaign, one in which the states come over to him automatically.5 5 Even though Thucydides still 5 4 The Lynkos expedition (4.124-8) stems from a commitment Brasidas made to Perdikkas earlier and has avoided fulfilling up to now (see 4.78). 5 5 The circumstances of the revolts by Skione and Mende are very different from those pertaining when Akanthos and Amphipolis revolted. Moreover, Akanthos and Amphipolis are strategically stronger. Amphipolis, it turns out, is strong enough to R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 5 presents Brasidas making sound assessments of allies’ and enemies’ plans, Brasidas himself seems to be less in control of the events.5 6 These revolts are not prompted by rational assessments of the situation, but by unrealistic expectations about Brasidas and break free from Athens and even to disobey Sparta's order to go back to Athens. Akanthos is not recaptured by the Athenians, but it is handed back to Athens under the terms of the Peace of Nikias (5.18.5). Skione and Mende revolt even though they are.in an extremely vulnerable position. Eventually, Skione is singled out for vengeance by the Athenians: the men are all killed, and the women and children are enslaved (5.32.1). The narrative of the whole Brasidas campaign describes a series of revolts from Athens. Thucydides has constructed this narrative in order to show that the various cities’ choices to revolt differ in each case. 5 6 Connor uses a reader-response approach to the text of Thucydides to bring out the historical judgments implicit in the progression of the Brasidas narrative: As the account of the northern campaign progresses, the responses to Brasidas from the citizens of the region becomes progressively more enthusiastic and lavish. The reader, however, moves in the other direction, to a greater awareness of the ambiguity of Brasidas’ actions and of the danger in his appeals. His heroization at Amphipolis comes when we are most sharply aware of a double threat to the cities of the area - the resurgent Athenian power and a new Spartan tendency toward imperialism. Connor 19S4:139 These words are quite compatible with my account of the campaign as a whole; however, Connor does make certain inferences, especially concerning the reader’s relation to Brasidas and expectations about the course of the campaign, which go against my interpretation. In my discussion I focus on the historian’s judgments rather than the role of the reader. For my own purposes, the main progression relates to Brasidas’ analysis of the future at each point in the narrative. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 6 by the interests of small conspiratorial groups.5 7 Brasidas’ rhetorical techniques in the later episodes of the campaign contrast with those in the earlier stages. Thucydides claims that Brasidas said much the same things in his speeches at Skione (4.120.3) and Torone (4.114.3-5) as he did at Akanthos; however, he includes extracts of those addresses in indirect discourse, and those extracts differ from the earlier speech. In fact, the differences are very striking. They again show how Brasidas presents an attractive focalization to the allied states (F3). The best illustration of this is the speech in Skione (4.120.3).5 8 Brasidas makes the Skionaians feel good about themselves by suggesting 5 7 At both Skione and Mende, Thucydides hints that factional conflicts are largely responsible for the revolt, and that as a result these revolts go against the better judgments of many people. In this case, the people’s rationality is obscured by political maneuvering. This effect seems similar to Alkibiades’ speech in the Sicilian Debate (6.16-18) and the resultant erds (6.24.3). Indeed, the Athenians turn out to be sympathetic to the view that the revolt was prompted by factional conflict: they spare the citizens of Mende on condition that they hand over the conspirators (4.130.7). 5 8 The Skione address forms an interesting point of comparison with the speech at Akanthos. Homblower CT 2:86-88 gives a useful discussion of the differences between the addresses at Akanthos, Torone, and Skione. As I have argued, it is important to bear in mind the state of affairs at the point when Brasidas made each speech. For instance, it is quite possible to regard the goal of destroying the Athenian empire, which Brasidas mentioned at Akanthos, as substantially sincere. Only later does it become clear that this goal cannot be achieved. Starting with Akanthos, Brasidas intends to gain as many allied cities as he can. Practically speaking, it would take a long time, and a lot of manpower, to destroy the Athenian empire. But that goal, however far off, is not actually unrealistic. In his intervention at Skione, by contrast, Brasidas shows by his own behavior that he knows this goal is no longer attainable. In his address at Skione, R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 7 that they are fully aware of the danger of the situation and that they have accepted those dangers voluntarily and courageously.5 9 The Skionaians are not deluded by Brasidas: they are self-deluded. Instead of coming to a rational assessment of the danger, they produce a garland, hold a festival, and treat Brasidas as a visiting celebrity.6 0 Thucydides uses a vivid image to critique the Skionaians’ level of cognition rather than Brasidas’ employment of deceptive and misleading argument. he does appeal to the people’s desire for personal freedom, but he does not mention the wider goal of freeing Greece. 5 9 Brasidas does employ a certain amount of exaggeration and misrepresentation, as he does at Akanthos (4.85-87; cf. ou ta onta: 4.108.5). In the address at Skione, every piece of judgmental or affective vocabulary, so far as we can see from the text, is slanted in the direction of congratulating the audience for the decision they have already made. Brasidas makes all the evidence point to the conclusion that the Skionaians have exhibited great courage, which all the other states should emulate. Brasidas implies that if all states act in this way, then they could bring Athens to its knees. However, Brasidas does not state this goal explicitly, and in any case attaches it to certain conditions. “ The historical judgment which is presented implicitly here is not that Brasidas is completely innocent of any blame for the consequences (5.3, 5.32), but merely that the people are expected to make their own calculations of risk and payoff about their own actions. It seems likely that Thucydides statements about “blind wishing” at 4.108.4 are aimed particularly at the Skionaians. The burgeoning cult of Brasidas, as evidenced by the crown at Skione and the cult at Amphipolis (5.11), does not seem accidental. Indeed, Brasidas' speech at Skione, praising his audience, may be regarded also as an appeal for praise. For the first time we are confronted explicitly with the personal side of Brasidas’ motivations, which have been obscured up to now by his action on Sparta's behalf. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 8 Throughout this part of the campaign, Thucydides emphasizes that Brasidas still predicts accurately what his enemies will do (4.114.3, 4.120.2, 4.122.4-5,4.123.4, 4.124.4,4.129.1). However he is not powerful enough to confront his enemies on every front at once.6 1 The interpretation set out above suggests how Brasidas could have known about Athenian motives and intentions at every point. Brasidas uses the technique of psychological expertise to manipulate both friends and enemies. In order to calculate Athenian strategic moves, in fact, Brasidas needs little more than operational expertise. He knows, for example, that the Athenians will find Mende and Skione the easiest cities to recover, and will move against them first. But in his interactions with the Chalkidian cities, Brasidas also makes use of psychological expertise. Brasidas’ understanding of human motives in a general sense allows him to decide which courses of action various groups will take. Brasidas has tried to sponsor revolutions in these cities. As the Megara incident has demonstrated, actors cannot easily calculate which group will take precedence in each city. Psychological expertise helps Brasidas calculate his level of support in the northern cities and helps him distribute his forces 6 1 Once Brasidas gets back from Lynkos, for example, he finds that the Athenians have recaptured Mende (4.129.1). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 3 9 among them. Furthermore, this technique enables Brasidas to construct credible threats in specific circumstances, through his actions as well as his words. At the same time, however, Thucydides makes it clear to the reader that Brasidas does not have enough manpower to deliver on all those threats. Brasidas’ psychological expertise emerges especially clearly in the final battle at Amphipolis. Here, he uses many of the same cognitive skills he has shown throughout his career. Thucydides’ narrative highlights the theme of vision. In this section, Thucydides draws special attention to visual elements, as they reflect Brasidas' cognitive advantage over his main adversary Kleon. By looking at the way Thucydides presents Brasidas’ point of view at Amphipolis, we can appreciate his techniques of analysis, and we can see how he guides events by controlling the vision of others. At Amphipolis, as at Argilos, Brasidas recognizes a kairos (5.10.2, cf. 4.103.4). In chapter one, I discussed Phormion’ recognition of a kairos in the battles of Patrai and Naupaktos. The kairos at Amphipolis is very like those instances, except that it appears to contain a greater psychological component. Phormion can tell that the enemy navy is vulnerable because it is losing its orderly formation, that is, because the Spartans are not executing the strategies that give them the best chance of success. But Brasidas R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 0 recognizes a kairos from the way enemy soldiers position their heads and hold their spears while moving in formation (5.10.5). To be sure, Brasidas uses operational expertise in this engagement, but in a sense he goes beyond what Phormion does. At this moment, and in his speech at 5.9, Brasidas seems able to reach a broader and more complex set of conclusions about the enemy’s psychology. In the narrative of the second battle at Amphipolis, Thucydides focuses on the way in which the intelligent commander is able to find out about the thoughts of other characters. By looking at the enemy's action, within this limited context, Brasidas is able to find out what enemy's intentions are. By using operational expertise, Brasidas can work out what strategic moves make sense for the enemy. And by looking at the enemy’s actions in this context, he can use psychological expertise to judge both the enemy commander’s level of knowledge and also the soldiers’ inclination to carry out orders. To a limited extent, as in the passages at the head of the chapter, Brasidas is able to read the enemy’s mind (5.6-7). In this section of narrative, Thucydides not only shows that Brasidas has uncommon insight into the enemy’s plans and actions; he also shows how Brasidas gains this insight. In doing so, Thucydides shows how he himself is able to make secure inferences about characters’ motivations. We do not need to R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 1 claim that Thucydides has substituted results for motives in order to explain this passage.6 2 In rare cases, Thucydides admits to doing this (e.g. 8.46.5). However, I do 6 2 Hunter 1973:31-33 criticizes the account at 5.6-7 for being unrealistic and inconsistent, and for revealing dishonest historical methods. Hunter finds the reasons attributed to Kleon for advancing (5.6.3), and the soldiers’ estimation of their leader (5.7.2), both quite unrealistic motivations. She argues that Kleon’s attack is strategically unaccountable, and that soldiers have no reason to despise the incompetence and cowardice (anepistemosyne and malakia) of Kleon based on what he has done so far in the narrative. These observations are worked into an overall argument that Thucydides reconstructs his account of actors’ motives from the result of their action. Hunter approaches each point in the narrative with the question “How could Thucydides k n o w why person X does action Y?” Hunter answers the question about the thoughts of Kleon and his soldiers by suggesting that Thucydides constructed human motives in this passage on the basis of Kleon’s cowardly flight from the battle at (5.10.9). She thus charges Thucydides with presenting inference as fact, and, ultimately, of sloppy historical writing. Several replies could be made to this position, of which I think the most important is that it ignores the way Thucydides presents his characters getting information on the motivations of others. As I have argued, Thucydides presents a powerful case that Brasidas is able to see Kleon’s motivations at each point. Part of the reason why Kleon moves, Brasidas thinks, is that he disdains Brasidas’ troops (5.6.3). This reason is picked up again at 5.8.3: Brasidas is conscious of an inferiority in quality, if not number. There is little difficulty in supposing that Brasidas has reasonably accurate information of the enemy’s forces. At 5.7.2, Thucydides returns to Brasidas’ understanding (F3) of Kleon’ motivations (F2), and again underlines Brasidas’ foresight about what Kleon will do. This passage, in different ways, represents the localizations of both Kleon and Brasidas. In 5.7.2, the gar clause explains both Brasidas’ foresight and the pressure on Kleon. It indicates both why Kleon moves, and how Brasidas is led to the conclusion that he will do so. There is no inconsistency between this passage and 5.6.3. Thucydides shows just why Kleon disdains the enemy: he is bowing to his own force’s disdain for the enemy and to its eagerness to attack. Much of Greek warfare involves keeping up the morale of the troops: the pressure on Archidamos at 2.18 and on Demosthenes at 4.30 testifies to this. The troops’ desire for action is a hard R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 2 not believe that we should accept this as Thucydides’ usual practice. I have suggested that information about intentions and motivations is embedded in every set of human actions; intelligent characters can divine those motivations using their knowledge about human nature and their knowledge of fighting. Thucydides presents Brasidas as an expert at discerning the purposes underlying particular situations. Throughout the Amphipolis narrative, Thucydides uses vision as a metaphor for knowledge. Huart 1968 observes that Thucydides’ visual vocabulary often has a strong cognitive component. This metaphor represents Brasidas’ understanding of Klcon’s thinking. In the whole narrative of 5.6-10, there is a great variety of verbs of vision: horan, aisthanesthai, theasthai, deiknunai, deloun, phainesthai, lanthanein. In many motivation for the commander to resist. Brasidas is himself master of the kairos, and correspondingly he is an expert at strategically waiting until that moment comes. As I have shown, this tactic is particularly effective at Megara (4.73.1). And Brasidas gained Amphipolis in the first place because he was able, for a time, to put military pressure on the city. In both cases the word hesychazo is used of his action. If we regard the motivational analysis at 5.7.2 as Brasidas’ focalization (up to xynelthon), we might see the comparison of commanders as the self-serving view of Brasidas (his own "skill” and “valor” would seem to indicate this). Alternatively, taken as the real emotions of the Athenian soldiers, the words “weakness” and “incompetence” are derived from Kleon’s inaction in the specific situation, despite their supposed superiority to the enemy. We can account for Brasidas’ vision and foresight in this passage as a combination of information, military experience, and skillful inference. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 3 instances, the visual is indissolubly linked to the cognitive. Brasidas occupies a hill which gives him a clear view of everything; Kleon sets out from Eion to survey the area, and does not escape notice; Brasidas is careful not to show his troops to the enemy; Kleon sees the feet of the enemy under the gate of the city; Brasidas sees Kleon’s chaotic turning maneuver, and recognizes the opportunity to attack (5.6.3; 5.7.3; 5.8.3; 5.10.2; 5.10.5). The last two of these instances present very vivid images/’ 3 At 5.10.2, Kleon realizes from the legs of horses and men under the city gates that the enemy is ready to attack. Kleon's sudden appreciation of the strength and intentions of the enemy also presents to the reader the way he is taken by surprise; it explains why he makes a hasty turning maneuver, dangerously exposing his army’s vulnerable right side 6 3 Scholars have often noted Thucydides’ penchant for describing small details in a highly visual manner. Connor 1985:10-11 cites as examples the counting of the bricks at Plataia, (3.20.2) the oarsmen carrying their cushion, oar, and rowlock across the isthmus (2.93.2), and the javelin spike driven into the bar of a gate at Plataia to keep it shut (2.4.3). The image of Demosthenes’ men at Pylos leaning forward and heaping mortar onto their backs for want of tools may also be mentioned under this heading (4.4.2). All of these cases may be characterized as giving a “window of opportunity.” The powerful focus on small facts represents people’s momentary realization of a way to produce effective action, as against the relative ignorance of the enemy: actors are able to breach the walls at Plataia, to make a surprise attack on the Peiraeus, to trap the Thebans inside the city, to build a fort in enemy territory. An essential part of each scene is its consequence. The reader’s experience of vividness is made to represent the actors’ intellectual comprehension of events. Connor argues that they contribute to the “participatory” quality of Thucydides’ narrative, a quality that makes the account compelling and believable. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 4 to the enemy. Brasidas appears to be in control of this vivid image, and he uses it to catch the enemy out of order. The last instance is the fateful kairos, which I mentioned above. Brasidas recognizes the unorthodox turning maneuver, and he realizes he will win if he attacks at this moment. Brasidas gives a little speech to this effect: Those men will never stand up to us; one can see that by the way their spears and heads are moving. Troops which do as they do rarely stand a charge. 5.10.5 The vivid image of chaotic heads and spears is the indication of the mental disposition and preparation of the enemy. Brasidas is able to attack with a small force in complete confidence, because the enemy is unprepared to withstand an attack. As we trace how the narrative arrives at this point, we can see that it turns on visual images. Those visual images represent specifically the state of knowledge of the actors who focalize (F2) those images. Brasidas and Kleon are both able to recognize vivid images and to realize enemy intentions from them. However, Brasidas is far more in control of the situation: Brasidas’ realization merely confirms his preexisting suspicions, while Kleon’s belated perception gives him a shock which throws him into confusion. The participants’ state R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 5 of knowledge is represented by the effect of those images. Simply put, this section of narrative is governed by visual analysis. Control over the visual corresponds to cognitive advantage. Thucydides presents Brasidas as being fully in control of the visual side of the action. All of Brasidas’ campaigns, in fact, illustrate the power of his cognition. Patterns in the narrative represent the way he applies a particular mode of thinking about the world and about human action. This mode of cognition, as I have shown, involves placing the action of individuals within a context determined by the circumstances, whether military or political. Brasidas is then able to find the interests and motivations which are embedded in action; these inferences about motivation depend on quite straightforward, systematic habits of human behavior. They make use of people’s fears, their interests, and their sense of responsibility. I have argued that this kind of thinking is very powerful even in battle situations, because this context controls human behavior and intentions. Generals with operational expertise, like Demosthenes and Phormion, are able to make some of the same types of inference as Brasidas, because the possible choices available to men engaged in Greek warfare are relatively limited. Arguably, Brasidas’ control of Kleon’s vision represents an ability beyond R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 6 operational expertise. But in any case, Brasidas is able to use the same system of analysis in other contexts too. Brasidas Finds it quite easy to determine how both friends and enemies are going to react. Often, he is at an advantage because others tend to have a rather narrow and obvious focus on their own interests; those interests are quite easy to read from particular situations. As a result, most of Brasidas’ adversaries act in a rather predictable fashion. Thucydides shows us that human action is predictable in sc far as it reflects general human interests. He has presented the narrative to the reader in order to highlight an intelligent character’s appreciation of precisely those features. Predictability in the narrative, then, does not come from the use of results to inform motivation. Rather, it comes from Thucydides’ method of presenting a type of intelligence which can access other people’s motivations and intentions. Through a deep understanding of the circumstances of human action, and the use of direct information and experience, Brasidas is able to infer other people’s intentions, and this is the reason for his consistent success. This emerges from Brasidas’ dealings with the Megareans, Perdikkas, the Argilians, and the Skionaians. Brasidas realizes that Megareans are motivated by concern for safety, and that the factional conflict will turn on the defense of the city. In making the enemy apparently unwilling R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 7 to fight for the city, he can put the oligarchic faction in power. Perdikkas wants to achieve unobstructed rule in Macedonia. Brasidas realizes that his support is contingent on this aim, and tries to persuade him that he will be in a stronger position after gaining some cities in Thrace. Brasidas is also aware of the Argilians’ suspicion of the Amphipolitans, and sees that he will be able to use them to bring over the larger city. The Skionaians have a passionate desire for liberty, one which overrides all rational calculations of the situation: Brasidas’ speech is able to bring them round to his cause, against the judgment of a number of the citizens. Brasidas knows what other people want. These wishes are quite straightforward and understandable: any person who is sensitive to the interests of others can see them. It is not remarkable that he suspects or even knows these things; what is more important is that Brasidas has the skill to make use of other people’s interests to achieve ends for himself. Brasidas is able to find out the intentions of the enemy by looking at the context of action. An enemy’s action is predictable when it follows immediately, when it is not likely that unpredictable factors will intervene, and when it is constrained by normal R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 8 logistical factors and expectations about military engagement.6 4 The combination of experience, information, and inference can be used to find out things about the enemy which are not accessible to ordinary commanders. It is thus possible for the historian also, in inferring motivation, to look at the context of action and the interests and intentions embedded in those actions. Motivation for action may be inferred without reference to its consequences. In each case, Brasidas can see the action of one party within the wide context of the interests which it will affect across Greece, and he often has a better understanding of the consequences than the actors do themselves. He is able to tell other people’s ideas about actions from the nature of the situation: the choices open to them, their perceived interests, their preexisting dispositions and their emotional responses to a set of circumstances or course of events. These considerations can be used as cognitive tools 6 1 An important part of Kleon’s motivation that Hunter ignores, for example, is the desire to reconnoiter. Brasidas’ strategy is designed to leave Kleon with the knowledge that the enemy is around, but without knowing where. Accordingly when Kleon sets out, he- does the same thing as Brasidas, in occupying a hill which is both strategically safe and which affords a good view of the area (5.7.4). It is only when the town appears undefended that Kleon is himself given the intention to attack. His replies to the soldiers seem to be dictated by the desire to keep them quiet. Brasidas is able to predict and control the vision and knowledge of the enemy. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 4 9 for finding out about other people, whether friend or enemy. This cognitive penetration is often represented in visual terms in the narrative. Brasidas is also able to use the same skills to control the action of others by controlling the way they see him and the way they understand his own action. In this account of the Brasidas narrative, I have focused on the presentation of his peculiar brand of psychological expertise. This account has important implications for the historian’s own thinking about military action. If we look at the sorts of thinking we see Brasidas using, and the sorts of thinking we could also see in the other characters studied in the next section, we can make some general statements about Thucydides’ treatment of individuals within the History who demonstrate this brand of intelligence. Certain individuals impose their own rational analysis on events. Thucydides has a natural inclination towards rational explanations of events. This attitude guides explanations for things by looking at the minds of the most intelligent and rational individuals. Thucydides clearly believes that the intellectual framework of most people’s thinking is recoverable, and guides their action, because their action must conform in some way to their goals. The motivations of individuals, even the most intellectually sophisticated, are relatively simple and discernible. Brasidas' ability to R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. understand the goal oriented action and thinking of ordinary characters involves understanding how these people will pursue goals given the present circumstances. Those with psychological expertise can therefore understand human action at the time, and are able to react in the appropriate way. Thucydides shows that it is possible to understand why people do things by presenting individuals with psychological expertise. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 251 Part Five: Thucydides and Psychological Expertise In this section I show that Brasidas is not alone in possessing psychological expertise. To an extent, we can see the same form of cognition in other intelligent characters, namely Alkibiades, Hermokrates, Phrynichos, and Gylippos. To show this, I change my style of discussion from the previous sections. I have argued above that Thucydides encourages the reader to look at his text as a series of decisions and moments, rather than as a long set of causally linked events. In this section I compare these characters’ intelligence without concentrating on an extended narrative. I discuss the manifestations of their intelligence using various categories of analysis. The main difference, however, is that I focus more on the historian’s view (FI). In previous sections I have discussed certain parts of the question; for instance, I discussed the way Thucydides forms expectations about human behavior in part three. I suggest in this section that Thucydides establishes an intimate linkage between events and the judgments and actions of intelligent actors in the History. These connections exemplify psychological expertise. I argue in this section that the intelligent thinking and speaking which Thucydides represents in his History makes up an essential part of the work. Cogan R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 2 1981, for instance, sees the speeches as the key to understanding human action in Thucydides’ History. I would not go quite as far as this in pressing the importance of characters’ thoughts; on the other hand, there can be no doubt that Thucydides emphasizes intelligent thinking at many key moments of the work, and that he considers those thoughts as in some sense the cause of significant human actions. In this section I categorize certain cognitive moves made by individuals at important moments. Thucydides presents many important pieces of characters’ thought in indirect discourse; however, thoughts can also be expressed directly in a speech, or they can be presented implicitly in human action. In each case, however, Thucydides is careful to represent characters’ ideas authentically. He limits their knowledge to what they could have known at the time, and he links those thoughts with the surrounding situation. However, Thucydides often also points to the significance of these ideas outside their particular historical context. I have shown in section three that Thucydides has certain ideas about expectations and standards of relevance. I suggest below that intelligent characters’ thoughts in a way define their own context. Those thoughts count not only as analyses of situations; they also to a large extent determine the course of events. I focus on one type of historical judgment in particular: the judgment that certain events or ideas are R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 3 historically important. I suggest that this type of judgment may be linked with characters’ contemporary ideas in four main ways. First, and obviously, Thucydides considers certain actions as very important in determining the later course of events. Thucydides makes his own judgments about the importance of events in the History. ; in some cases, however, his judgments also seem to correspond with intelligent characters’ intuitions at the time. The first type of relation associates a character’s significant action and Thucydides’ judgments about that action’s importance. Intelligent actors know that their actions will have ongoing significance, even though they do not know the later course of events. That is to say, the intelligent individuals are able to pick out ideas which Thucydides retrospectively judges to be important themes in determining events.6 5 The second type of relation points out the association between a character’s speech and achieving important results. This type of relation is rather like the last one, except that the intelligent character uses words rather than actions to achieve his ends. Those words contain analysis of the situation, and they reveal an appreciation of the importance of current events. But the 6 5 By contrast, Demosthenes tends to look into the future only as far as the next battle. Practitioners of psychological expertise look further into the future. In many instances, they anticipate that their actions will have significance beyond the immediate moment. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 4 character also uses rhetorical skill to persuade an audience to take a given course of action. While the intelligent speaker may pursue his own ends (like Alkibiades at 6 .15). he often recognizes that this decision will produce important results for the whole Greek world. The first two types of association between historian’s views and characters’ views relate to the role of characters’ focalizations in producing events of historical importance. The third and fourth categories of association concern important historical ideas rather than events. They stress the importance of characters in producing interpretations and judgments which remain historically significant. To illustrate the third category, I look at the way intelligent characters interpret given events and produce useful models of thinking about the world. The fourth type covers cases in which a character uses his own action to challenge or change conventional assumptions about the world.661 have selected these four categories because together they illustrate an association between Thucydides’ own judgments about historical importance and characters’ views of events. Each of these links can be found in the Brasidas narrative. In order to 6 6 These four categories of association are neither exhaustive nor exclusive. The material I use in this section could often be placed in several categories. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 5 demonstrate psychological expertise, I illustrate these links with special reference to five individuals: Brasidas, Hermokrates, Gylippos, Alkibiades, and Phrynichos. The first category covers an intelligent commander’s achievements, which he thinks will have great ongoing importance. While Thucydides certainly does not believe that all historical events are intentional, Thucydides nevertheless attributes some of the most momentous individual events in the History to the most intelligent and ambitious characters. This point could be illustrated in the Brasidas narrative by considering Brasidas’ appeal to Akanthos together with Thucydides’ synthetic analysis at 4.S I. As I argued in the first two sections of the chapter, Brasidas is aware how this first city is crucial to the campaign as a whole; rejection will make other cities disinclined to come over to him. Thucydides’ comments in the retrospective passage also suggest that Brasidas achieved a huge success by starting with one city and using the momentum gained from that success to prompt revolts elsewhere. As I argued in section two, the psychological factors underlying the series of revolts are to an extent controlled by Brasidas. In what follows I look at the way other practitioners of psychological expertise bring about similar effects. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 6 Three separate actions by Alkibiades have an important influence on the course of the war: the Athenian alliance with Argos in book five, the Sicilian expedition, and his defection to Persia in book eight. Thucydides devotes considerable space to each of these, and he suggests that these events are the most important things going on in the Greek world at the time. Alkibiades has a way of being impossible for other characters to ignore. I discuss the specific techniques Alkibiades uses to manipulate others under the second heading. Hermokrates and Gylippos introduce naval confidence and specific strategies derived from the Korinthians. They achieve the first naval victories over Athenian in the war by using effectively the constricted space of the Syracusan harbor/1 ' The disaster in Sicily causes consternation in the Greek world (8.1-2); it also gives the Spartans a renewed confidence and enterprise. Phrynichos becomes one of the most energetic leaders of the oligarchic revolution in Athens (8.68.3). According to Thucydides’ own explicit judgments, the practitioners of psychological expertise play the largest roles in some of the most important events in the work. They are also quite conscious at the time of the importance of their action. While they cannot predict the 6 7 To an extent, of course, these defeats also count as catastrophic tactical mistakes on Athens’ part. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 7 precise future course of events, they nevertheless display a conviction that their action will have ongoing significance. Thucydides has not simply attributed certain ideas to the individuals because he thinks, from a retrospective standpoint, that these events are important. Thucydides wants to present the actual ideas which prompted intelligent individuals to take important courses of action, whether those actions turned out to be successful or disastrous. Thucydides could in some cases use personal testimony to access those ideas. However, I have argued that he could also infer those thoughts using the psychological expertise demonstrated by his characters. Thucydides need not retrospectively impose analysis on characters. The second category concerns the intelligent leader’s ability to produce events of historical importance by means of rhetorical ability. I have illustrated this effect while discussing Brasidas’ addresses at Akanthos and Skione. In those cases, we see Brasidas uttering certain claims (focalization F2), in order to make the audience share a self-interested version of that focalization (F3). Thucydides states in 4.81 that Brasidas’ reputation grows through a combination of experience and hearsay, peira and cikoe. Further, he claims that Brasidas ultimately harms the Athenians in the long term through the psychological effect of his actions (epithumian enepoiei. . . elpida R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 8 enkatelipe bebaion). In sections two and four I have laid out the psychological methods Brasidas uses to make the revolts self-generating. Certain focalizations and analyses of events affect the way the audience sees things for some time afterwards. In his speeches at Akanthos, Torone, and Skione, Brasidas is deliberately trying to produce a version of this elpis in the minds of his audience. This facet of psychological expertise may be illustrated using Alkibiades’ first diplomatic success with Argos. This episode is very important: it presents the possibility of the complete destruction of Sparta’ power along with the Peloponnesian League (as Alkibiades later boasts at 6.16.6). Alkibiades emerges in the middle of the chaotic period after the Peace of Nikias. As Crane 1995 and Rood 1998 have shown, this passage is interesting in that it illustrates how little each actor (or city) knows about the events he is participating in.6 8 Thucydides makes Alkibiades the only character who understands what is going on; to an extent, Alkibiades controls those events. Thucydides sketches out the various views (F2) of the states involved, and allows the “ See Rood 1998:83-107 and Crane 1995:16-17 for the messy dealings during the Peace of Nikias. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 5 9 reader to recognize patterns of characters’ interpretation.6 9 Each state is fearful of others, and takes courses of action which make other states fear them. Alkibiades plays on a version of this fear held by the Athenians. The Peace of Nikias has jeopardized the traditional and dependable bipolar structure of the Greek world, Sparta against Athens. Alkibiades helps Athens make diplomatic moves towards 6 9 The states all view the situation around them as a potential danger to themselves. This suspicion makes them project motives onto all other actors. That is to say, each character believes that all other characters are out to destroy him. The cities of Korinth, Thebes, Argos, Sparta, and Athens have the same view. The pattern is clearest to see for the Argives. Three times Thucydides remarks on the Argives’ ambition to rule the Peloponnese (5.28.2, 5.38.3, 5.40.3). But this attitude of ambition is changed to fear by the combination of a couple of events: the destruction of the fort at Panakton in the North of Attika and the Boiotian alliance with Sparta (5.40.1). Far from thinking they are in control, they now think that the Tegeans, the Spartans, the Athenians and the Boiotians are conspiring against them. This picture is false as Thucydides shows. However, it establishes the lines along which states tend to think. Because the Argives focus on their own interest, they are blind to the interests of others. They believe that every event is intentional and aimed at themselves. They do not take account of the fact that that events may be caused by miscommunication (as in the case of Boiotia: 5.38), or by constraint (as Sparta is forced to ally with Boiotia: 5.40). Similarly, the Spartans are fearful of the Argives. The Spartans are more concerned about states leaving the Peloponnesian alliance than they are about keeping the peace of Nikias (5.36.2). The Spartans are prepared to make a truce with Argos on terms which strike them as stupid (moria: 5.41.1), and with Boiotia on terms which jeopardize the treaty with Athens. Gomme calls the Spartans’ actions “two-faced” at HCT 4:43; however, these arrangements seem to reflect their paranoid view of interstate relations during the Peace of Nikias. Sparta is suspicious of Tegea, and its action is guided by fear that an overwhelming alliance is forming against Sparta. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 260 Argos, and this alliance culminates in the battle of Mantinea. While he is making these arrangements, he makes an impassioned speech to the Athenian assembly, in which he suggests that Argos is in fact about to ally with Sparta (5.43.3). Alkibiades claims: "The Spartans are not trustworthy and are making a truce with the Argives to get them out of the way, and then to go after Athens alone.”7 0 He produces something resembling a conspiracy theory.7 1 As always, Alkibiades’ intentions are also personal: he wants to 7 0 Alkibiades assumes here that the negotiations for alliance are being done at the instigation of Sparta, rather than the other way round. Gomme at H C T4:50 comments on the quoted passage: “I believe this [the word exelosi - “to get out of the way”] means, not to destroy, crush Argos, as most edd., but to isolate her - to separate, a special case of the common meaning, to remove.” Andrewes cites 8.46.3 as a possible parallel. 7 1 Alkibiades accumulates a set of facts, and establishes the argument that those facts are connected in a particular way. As a whole, of course, Alkibiades’ argument is quite fantastic. Richard Hofstadter describes a very similar form of analysis and presentation in well known essay called ‘The Paranoid Style in American Politics” (Hofstadter 1965). This paper compares conspiracy theories throughout the history of American politics, discussing statements made in the McCarthyist era, and in the nativist and anti- Catholic movements. Some of Hofstadter’s observations would only apply to ideas of an internal enemy (for example, a society might identify fearsome elements within itself as an enemy; consequently, while positing the enemy as ‘other,’ the enemy is really part of the society itself). However, in the following extract, Hofstadter mentions the paranoid politician’s rhetorical and scholarly techniques. These bear striking some similarities to Alkibiades’ arguments in Athens: The typical procedure of the higher paranoid scholarship is to start with such defensible assumptions and with a careful accumulation of facts, or R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 261 gain political ascendancy. Alkibiades understands the models of interstate behavior that Thucydides has set out already. He devises an influential strategy, which reestablishes at least of what appear to be facts, and to marshal these facts as an overwhelm ing “p ro o f’ of the particular conspiracy that is to be established. It is nothing if not coherent - in fact, the paranoid mentality is far more coherent than the real world, since it leaves no room for mistakes, failures, or ambiguities. It is, if not wholly rational, at least intensely rationalistic; it believes that it is up against an enemy who is infallibly rational as he is totally evil, and it seeks to match his imputed total com petence with his own, leaving nothing unexplained and comprehending all of reality in one overreaching, consistent theory. It is nothing if not “scholarly” in technique. . . . What distinguishes the paranoid style is not, then, the absence of verifiable facts (though it is occasionally true that in his extravagant passion for facts the paranoid occasionally manufactures them), but rather the curious leap in imagination that is always made at some critical point in the recital of events. Hofstadter 1965:36-7 Alkibiades’ speech to the Athenian assembly does not represent his real fears, since he has information on the situation in Argos. But it takes account of the way each state states reacts to the situation. He recognizes the patterns of fear and paranoia I have set out above. Alkibiades’ case is reasonably convincing because it conforms to people’s expectations. The Athenian people do not know the real situation at Argos. Alkibiades plays on the Athenian fears, and constructs a case that seems to make a lot of sense in the circumstances. His purpose, of course, is to persuade Athens to make an alliance with Argos first. This alliance is Alkibiades’ goal, but and he uses his knowledge of Athenian and other people’s modes of thinking in order to achieve it. Alkibiades describes the situation as his audience is inclined to see it, not as the situation actually is. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 6 2 the traditional polarity in Greece between Sparta and Athens. In this sense, Alkibiades’ first diplomatic success sets up the second phase of the Peloponnesian War. Hermokrates and Gylippos are also aware of the wide implications of the course of action they advocate. This point is made clear in their first attempt to encourage the Syracusans to fight the Athenians at sea (7.21). Thucydides attributes the beginning of this speech to Gylippos. This part includes the following statement: eXTTt'^eiv y a p o c tt’ a u x o u x t epyov a£iov xou k i v S u v o u t o v t t o X e h o v K a r e p y a a e a B a i . What is remarkable about this statement is that Gylippos does not promise victory, but "some worthy result.” Rather like Brasidas at 4.126 and 5.9, Gylippos shows his audience an alternative way of interpreting events to the one he knows they will naturally adopt. * Gylippos claims that the naval engagement should be judged in terms of victory or defeat, but within the larger context of the whole war (es ton polemon). Gylippos argues that he is giving the Athenians a signal that the Syracusans are prepared to fight at sea. At 7.66.3, when the Syracusans have gained a naval advantage, Hermokrates and Gylippos claim that they can now expect real victories. Both of these leaders are 7 2 The audience does not want to fight at sea; Gylippos regards such a refusal as tantamount to an admission of defeat. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 263 conscious of the significance of their action within an ongoing historical process. Like Brasidas and Alkibiades, they have a sense of the Panhellenic significance of their actions. Characters with psychological expertise are also able to bamboozle individuals; that is, to find and exploit the limits on another character’s understanding of the world. Brasidas successfully tricks the guards at the river Enipeus, but finds his sponsor Perdikkas harder to deceive (4.78.4; cf. 4.83.5).7 3 Alkibiades also proves a master of deception. He has got both the Spartans and Athenians to fall over each other for him by dangling the prospect of Persian naval support. At one point, some Athenian representatives force Alkibiades to say when that naval force will actually arrive (8.56). But on this occasion he succeeds in making the Athenian representatives feel they are responsible for the breakdown in negotiations, that they are not offering enough to Tissaphemes. Thucydides states quite specifically that while Alkibiades does not 7 3 Brasidas attempts to avoid making the expedition to Macedonia with Perdikkas to fight king Arrabaios. Brasidas does manage to buy some time, but he is eventually forced to join the expedition. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 6 4 believe what he is saying, he still convinces the audience that what he says is true.7 4 Practitioners of psychological expertise can produce focalizations (F2) which convince either individuals or whole states (F3). Practitioners of psychological expertise tend to be much more flexible in their ideas than other people. They can adopt a particular idea as it serves the occasion. Ordinary individuals are deceived by the intelligent characters, and they tend to hold on to those ideas for a longer time. So the focalizations (F3) which Brasidas and his peers get others to adopt have an ongoing influence on later events. '5 7 4 In general, it appears that Thucydides is impressed by individuals who demonstrate good survival skills. He praises men who manipulate people by skillful trickery when their life is on the line. The most vivid example is the story of Themistoklcs holding up the baby of his enemy Admetos, to get Admetos’ wife (the mother) to pity him and spare him (1.136.3). When Phrynichos sends his second letter to the enemy, which contains strategic inside information (8.50), he successfully anticipates the responses of both the Spartan Astyochos and Alkibiades. In a very dangerous situation, Phrynichos demonstrates his value to Athens and his concern for its safety (see Westlake 1956). As a result, he makes Athens a safer place for himself at a time when he is the only one to oppose Alkibiades’ recall (8.48.4). Perhaps Thucydides finds few enough admirable and intelligent individuals in the war, and so he praises them when they avoid dying off. But as I argue in the next chapter, Thucydides does not appear to care much for his character’s moral scruples. Intelligent successful, and admirable individuals need not always act on high moral principles (compare Pouncey 1980:130 and Crane 1998 passim). Even Perikles warns of the danger of observing moral principles (2.62-3). Such an interpretation may explain why Thucydides finds Nikias morally admirable while he is intellectually very unremarkable (7.86.5). 7 5 At 8.54.1 Peisandros relays Alkibiades’ advice about the oligarchic revolution to the Athenian assembly. Peisandros’ words are familiar from Alkibiades’ earlier speech. Whether Alkibiades believes them is another matter. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 6 5 Those false focalizations (F3) turn out to have great historical importance in themselves, according to the historian’s own judgment (focalization FI). The third way in which intelligent characters’ focalizations can be linked to historical analysis is in the articulation of important interpretations of events. This category covers analysis rather than significant human action. Under this heading I consider cases in which an intelligent character expresses a contemporary interpretation of events that corresponds very closely to the historian’s retrospective interpretation. This effect resembles double focalization, which I studied in chapter one, and which cun also be found in the Brasidas narrative. In cases of double focalization, Thucydides momentarily adopts the view of a character, and implicitly gives that view an authorial stamp of approval. It represents a fleeting window of insight. But the analyses I consider here differ from the examples of double focalization I studied earlier: they are very extended, and they function like ready-made pieces of historical analysis. Only the most insightful characters can sustain a double focalization for a significant stretch of time. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 6 6 The best example of all is that of Phrynichos at 8.48. Phrynichos has an uncanny ability to discern people’s goals, and to identify just how a character’s present action relates to those goals. Just before, Thucydides states explicitly that one of Alkibiades’ motives in supplying the advice to Tissaphemes is to secure his own recall to Athens (8.47). In this passage, Phrynichos articulates this same view, which is very unpopular at the time (8.48.4-6). He exposes Alkibiades’ analysis of Athens’ interests, and tries unsuccessfully to get the conspirators to reject Alkibiades’ advice. Phrynichos’ analysis is powerful because he is able to adopt the point of view of various interested parties. He examines Alkibiades’ proposals to see whether it fits the interests of three parties: the King, the allies, and the Athenians.7 6 He concludes that an Athenian change in constitution would satisfy neither the king’s needs (there would be no incentive for him to support Athens: ouk euporon einai), nor the allies’ needs (they want freedom from Athens, not freedom from democracy), nor Athens’ needs (it would not stop allied 7 6 A point of vocabulary backs up the unusual nature of this reasoning. The word euporos is not used very often in Thucydides, but it does occur three times in this chapter: both the people and the other leaders think Alkibiades’ proposal is euporos for themselves, while Phrynichos disputes that it is euporos for the king. Phrynichos is in fact the only character to use this word to express a judgment of advantage for other people rather than for himself. Perikles and Alkibiades, to be sure, mention euporos in terms of an advantage for a whole group, in which they include themselves. The instances of euporos are 1.93.7, 2.64.3, 4.10.3, 4.78.2, 6.17.6, 6.90.4, 8.48.3, 4 bis. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 6 7 revolts).7 7 This whole passage is an extended instance of double focalization. Thucydides presents the analysis of Phrynichos as if it were authorial. Phrynichos is able to calculate how a specific action will work within a complex system of competing motivations. He tests Alkibiades’ advice by evoking three different focalizations. These focalizations correspond to the goals of various interested parties. If the advice does not fit those goals, he argues, it will not work. In the eyes of most people, the situation is opaque. Even the three interested parties do not express their own goals as articulately as Phrynichos describes them. The insight and accuracy of Phrynichos’ analysis does not depend only on the later course of events. By juxtaposing his own historical judgment and the character’s 7 7 Thucydides remarks on the ambitions of the upper classes in Athens, who see the proposal as an opportunity for advancement (8.48.1). Phrynichos insightfully applies the same idea to the allied cities (8.48.6). Despite these class tensions, he realizes that the allied cities really want autonomy; they do not want to be ruled by an oligarchic state any more than by a democratic one. Thucydides confirms the accuracy of Phrynichos’ view in his discussion of Thasos at 8.64.5. The Thasians convert to oligarchy on Athenian instructions. In the end, they tempt the Spartans into freeing them as well as abolishing democracy. They get the best of both worlds (cf. Westlake 1968:243). Thucydides speculates, on basis of Thasos’ example, that Athens’ change of government does not encourage any cities to remain under Athenian control. Thucydides characterizes the Athenian reforms with the vivid image hypoulou (“suppurating”) a medical term referring to putrefaction underneath a scar (cf. Connor 1984:222 n.22). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 26S analysis, Thucydides shows how Phrynichos could have reached the conclusion he does. Phrynichos, like Thucydides, takes into account what each character knows about the world and the main actors within it at that point in time. The standard by which Thucydides evaluates a character’s quality of analysis is not set by close correspondences with the actual course of events. Instead Thucydides judges human actions and analyses according to what they could be expected know at that point in time.7 8 Phrynichos and Brasidas show us how Thucydides forms his historical expectations. The fourth type of link between characters’ focalizations and historical analysis can be seen in the redefinition of traditional assumptions. All actors have certain preexisting notions about the world, and actors often hold on to them tightly. In my discussion of the Phormion narrative, for example, I noted that Spartans tend to consider personal bravery the key to military success. And Athenians tend to think they are invincible at sea. Intelligent individuals have the ability to redefine those notions. 781 am not claiming that the course of events is actually irrelevant to Thucydides’ judgment. Thucydides’ selection of relevant factors in the subsequent course of events is set by what he judges was foreseeable at the time. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 269 The actions that cause those redefinitions create a shock. Phrynichos’ analysis, mentioned in the previous paragraph, breaks down a conventional Athenian assumption (8.48.5): that the states which are revolting from the empire really want an oligarchic government, and that they could be brought into line if Athens itself reverted to oligarchy. This argument marks a historic shift. Up to now, Athenians have often relied on support of pro-Athenian democratic groups to oppose oligarchic groups in the cities.7 9 Phrynichos shows the Athenians that they have no ideological claim on the states, and that they will have to fight and win to keep hold of their empire. Hermokrates and Gylippos destroy the biggest assumption of all. that Athenian naval power is invincible.8 0 Contrary to expectation, they make Syracuse a rival to 7 9 See Cogan 1981. Cogan argues that Athens’ ideological policy of keeping states in line started in the first couple of years of the war, and that the generation of this policy is one of the main themes in book three of the History. It could be said that the dissolution of this policy is one of the running themes in book eight. “ The power of this assumption is vividly conveyed in the following passage: Moreover [the Korinthians] held that they had not been worsted, for the very same reason that their opponent held that he had not been victorious; the Corinthians considering that they were conquerors, if not decidedly conquered, and the Athenians thinking themselves vanquished, because not decidedly victorious. 7.34.7, tr. Crawley R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 0 Athens at sea. Their most important weapon, initially, is that they know the enemy, with its strengths and weaknesses. At 7.36 Thucydides shows how the Syracusans make technical and tactical changes which give them advantages against the Athenians.*1 Phrynichos makes a similarly challenging judgment, on the basis of particular The passage above describes an indecisive engagement in the Korinthian gulf. It is particularly interesting because Thucydides explicitly states that the Syracusans learned from this engagement, and he describes the technical improvements made to Syracusan ships directly afterwards. In this passage, the Korinthians seem to accept it as inevitable that the Athenians will win, but bring in a different standard by which to judge the action— what we might call the “moral victory.” According to this standard, the result takes into account the relative forces involved. 8 1 This passage also illustrates the challenge to traditional notions about naval strength. The cognitive vocabulary in this passage underscores the idea that the Athenians, the accepted experts, are being challenged by new thinking. Athenian naval expertise is often expressed by the terms episteme, techne, and manthanein (e.g. 2.87.4. 7.21.3). In earlier discussions of naval capability, the antithesis of Spartan lohna and Athenian episteme is something of a cliche (cf. Edmunds 1975:87-102). At 7.36, Thucydides identifies the techne with the tactics the Athenians will be denied, and refers to their naval expertise with the word pistis, a word for belief rather than knowledge (7.36.5). Thucydides explains why charging prow to prow will be effective; hitherto, such a tactic has been a sign of amathia. This reversal of cognitive evaluations signals the intellectual superiority of the Syracusans; they recognize a gap between the present conditions and old naval ideas which the Athenians rely on. Thucydides turns the tables by referring to the Syracusan plans with the term episteme at 7.37.1: ToiauTa oi Zupaxoaiot Trpos t t ]v EczuTcov EmaTfmriv t e K cci Suvapiv 6TTivof|aavTes. In these words Thucydides stresses that the Syracusans have the real episteme, one based on a tight assessment of particular conditions. This kind of expertise holds an advantage over an objectively superior episteme which is ill fitted to the conditions of the Syracusan harbor. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 271 conditions, at 8.27. He realizes that the Spartans pose a legitimate challenge to the Athenian fleet; Thucydides goes to some lengths to defend his decision not to fight. Again Phrynichos argues forcefully against a recognizably conventional idea, which could be called the paradigmatic use of force (8.26.3).8 2 Thucydides recognizes, with Phrynichos, that Athens can no longer control the action of others by advertising its military strength and by making threats. Since Phormion’s victories in the Korinthian gulf, the Athenian naval threat has saved Athens from actually fighting a lot of battles (see Lateiner 1975:182). Phrynichos realizes that Athens must now pick its battles carefully and cannot be content with single victories. All of the above assumptions play a large role in determining events. Characteristically, the practitioners of psychological expertise know how to challenge traditional assumptions, and they are the first to realize when such assumptions do not hold any longer. Usually, such a challenge to traditional 8 2 Phrynichos argues against the following contention: vopt^ovxeg, el T rpooayayotvxo Mi'Xrixov, paSicog av 09101 xai x&XXa TTpoaxcopfjaai (“thinking that if they could gain Miletos, the other cities would easily come over to them”). This proposition closely resembles the Messenian advice to Demosthenes at 3.94.5: t o u t g o v y a p Xr)908vxcov paBfcos teat xSXXa T r p o o x c o p f |o e i v . Generals often assume that they only have to prove their power on one occasion, and that subsequently the enemy will fold automatically. This assumption might be labeled the paradigmatic use of force. The Athenians use this assumption when they fear that Brasidas might destroy the empire (4.108.1-2). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 2 assumptions causes a shock; eventually, people gradually learn to let go of their old ideas. But before the rest of the world adjusts to the new state of affairs, the practitioners of psychological expertise find themselves at a cognitive advantage. Thucydides often uses intelligent individuals to illustrate the way human ideas develop over the course of the war. The practitioners of psychological expertise contrast with other Thucydidean characters in important ways. They usually have a measure of intellectual authority over other characters, even those who are somewhat intelligent in their own right. As Brasidas has demonstrated, the practitioners of psychological expertise have the capacity to identify other people’s intentions. The other practitioners of psychological expertise have the same capacity. Alkibiades is the clearest example of this. Other people are drawn to Alkibiades, and not just because of his personal beauty. Alkibiades is frequently referred to in the text as a didaskalos, a teacher. He holds intellectual authority over other characters. He plays this role because he gives better advice about what to do in particular situations than anyone else. Tissaphemes keeps Alkibiades as R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 3 his advisor or didaskalos panton, because his advice is second to none (8.45.2).s’ Indeed, six out of the eleven uses of did.ask.ein and cognates in the last three books of the History refer to Alkibiades’ plans (6.93.1, 7.18.1, 8.45.2, 8.45.3, 8.54.1, 8.56.2). The most striking instance concerns Alkibiades’ strategic advice to Tissaphemes. Alkibiades advises him to let the Athenians and Spartans fight between each other, and to promise support to both sides. This advice is one of the dominant military ideas in book eight of the History.u The power of this plan derives from the fact that it precisely delimits the needs of the Spartans and the Athenians. Alkibiades shows Tissaphemes that by supporting the Spartans badly, he will make the Spartans lose time; this will minimize 8 3 Tissaphemes however knows that Alkibiades has ends of his own (8.47, 8.56). Moreover, he will only take Alkibiades’ advice within certain limits (8.56). 8 4 Alkibiades’ advice to Tissaphemes is by no means an original piece of military thinking. But it does suit the current situation brilliantly. History provides many instances of a state letting two other states fight against another, so that they become weak enough for the first state to step in and take both. This idea lies behind a Chinese parable about what happens “when waterbirds fight.” Blainey 1973:57-67 discusses examples of the idea in modem warfare. Not surprisingly, the idea has emerged already in Thucydides’ History. The two most important parallels are Athens’ decision on the Korinth-Kerkyra issue at 1.44.2. The Athenians initially leave the warring states to fight each other, and see the possibility of acquiring what is left of both the Korinthian and Kerkyraian fleets. Second, the Chalkidians advise Brasidas to preserve the tension between Perdikkas and Arrabaios, in order to show Perdikkas how much he needs Brasidas. In this case, the advice is to keep two strong powers at odds, in order to curtail the threat from one of them. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 4 the potentially decisive advantage the Spartans hold at this moment. Indeed, Thucydides uses the word trophe more or less every time he alludes to Spartan relations with Tissaphemes.8 5 Alkibiades is also able to make the Athenians dependent on the prospect of Tissaphemes’ support.8 6 Alkibiades specifies the basis of his intellectual authority in his speech at Sparta at 6.92.5: he has personal experience of affairs at Athens that will be irreplaceable; he also makes sound inferences concerning foreign events. As evidence of the soundness of his planning, Alkibiades claims that up to now he has merely inferred the state of affairs at Sparta.8 7 Alkibiades is confident that the Spartans will recognize themselves and their own interests in his strategic advice to them, even though he lacks direct experience with them. On all the occasions in which Alkibiades 8 5 References to trophe are as follows: 8.45.6; 8.46.5; 8.57 ter, 8.58.5, 6; 8.78.1; 8.SO.2 8.81.3; 8.83.3; 8.86.6; 8.87.1,3; 8.99. In some cases, a character’s action seems to be guided by a single goal for a long stretch of text. Thucydides presents the Spartans in this way in book eight. They are motivated exclusively by their expectation of trophe from the Persians, in the form of a fleet of Phoinikian ships. The many references to trophe emphasize the extraordinary amount of time it takes the Spartans to realize that the Phoinikian ships will never actually come. 8 6 Peisandros, uses Alkibiades’ words to persuade the Athenian assembly to change constitutions. He asks: “What hope of salvation is there unless we persuade the king to change sides?” (8.53.2). The word soteria occurs frequently in the context of Athenian interests (8.53.2,3; 8.54.1; 8.81.1); Peisandros implies that Athens will actually be destroyed unless the Persian King can be brought over to the Athenian side. 8 7 t c x |i6v ’A0riva(cov oT8a. t c x 5’ upeTEpa rjica^ov: 6.92.5. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 5 is presented as a didaskalos, ordinary people misunderstand each other and the situation in general. They do not know how to pursue their own true interests. Alkibiades the didaskalos gives valuable advice to a number of individuals. However, the usefulness of that advice tends to vary depending on his audience’s intelligence. Tissaphemes is fairly clever, and uses the advice profitably.8 8 The Athenian and Spartan people are relatively susceptible, and they get exploited by Alkibiades. 8 8 The fact that Alkibiades’ advice is self-interested does not jeopardize its quality. As I suggested above, Tissaphemes has the intelligence to select only those parts of Alkibiades’ advice which are in his own interest: those parts happen to be extensive. The conflict between Alkibiades’ interests and those of Tissaphemes comes through clearly in the argument which supports Athens’s general strategy (8.46.3). Alkibiades argues that it is more useful to ally with the Athenians than the Spartans, because the former have less stake in freeing Greece. In the very next chapter, Thucydides confirms that Alkibiades wants to use the promise of support from Tissaphemes to secure his recall in Athens. Later, when Alkibiades is appointed general, he promises the soldiers at Samos that Tissaphemes will divert the ships at Aspendos to Athens instead of Sparta (8.81.3). But in his advice to Tissaphemes, Alkibiades does not actually suggest supporting Athens. He merely advises Tissaphemes to support the Athenians to the extent that they can rival the Spartans and make them easier to subdue (8.46.4). Alkibiades’ own interests lie in the direction of supporting Athens. But Alkibiades knows the interests of his addressee, and realizes that he cannot explicitly suggest that course of action at this point. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Conclusion 2 7 6 The purpose of this chapter has been to argue for a single statement: that Thucydides frequently uses expected results, rather than actual consequences, in his analysis of events. The various manifestations of psychological expertise which I have laid out above show how intelligent characters form expectations about events. I suggest that Thucydides recognizes these psychological techniques, and uses them in forming his own expectations about the human action in the work. In chapter one, I argued that in his battle narratives Thucydides compares his own historiographical techniques to the intelligence of skillful commanders. In this chapter, I suggest that he links his own historical standards of analysis to the types of intelligence displayed by another set of skillful commanders. These individuals possess an additional element of insight into human motives and intentions. I have shown how often Thucydides makes his narrative convincing by describing the thoughts which motivate men to action. Thucydides considers the analyses of the most intelligent characters to be particularly useful for this purpose. Only the most intelligent characters have accurate insights into other people’s goals and motivations. While this form of insight can be extremely powerful, and can sometimes control other people’s action, it is nevertheless a perfectly realistic form of knowledge. Thucydides does not give Brasidas complete access to other people’s R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 7 thoughts, just as he does not allow Perikles to predict the future course of events. What Brasidas can do, however, is recognize that humans have relatively narrow and specifiable interests. By looking at a situation in the light of other people’s interests, he can quite reliably work out the way they look at particular situations. Thucydides makes Brasidas demonstrate this ability throughout the narrative of his campaign in Thrace. Because Thucydides is himself interested in the thought processes that underlie human action, he considers this form of intelligence an important part of historical analysis. The argument above is intended as a reply to two important and influential schools of thought about Thucydides. The first of these I have discussed in the introduction to this chapter. According to Hunter and Schneider, Thucydides infers characters’ motives from the consequences of their action. One reply to this argument would be that Thucydides gains personal testimony for his claims about characters’ thoughts and motivations. Westlake 1980 argues, for example, that while Thucydides did not get the opportunity to talk to Brasidas after the campaign, he could have learned all about him from Klearidas. However, I think there are too many human thoughts in the work for Thucydides to have gained sound testimony for each one. In this chapter I have set out a way in which Thucydides can infer people’s motivations from their R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 8 actions themselves, using quite historically respectable techniques. Those techniques derive from the abilities of intelligent characters. While Thucydides may in certain cases infer motivation from results, he does not do this often. This method assumes that the results were intended. As Stahl and Connor demonstrate, the course of events frequently vitiates men’s plans. According to my argument, Thucydides can work out actors’ intentions and motivations from circumstances surrounding their action. On this model, we need to specify how characters view their own interests in relation to the circumstances surrounding them. But Brasidas and other practitioners of psychological expertise appear to tackle the problem of human motivation with confidence and accuracy. Like them, Thucydides is interested in giving a convincing account of human motivation. These accounts of motivation are compelling, I suggest, because they make use of generally accepted conventions about human action, such as the assumption that human action tends to be self-interested. This assumption does not constitute psychological expertise any more than particular strategies constitute operational expertise. Psychological expertise lies in the application of a set of general ideas to particular circumstances. Brasidas and a few others are experts at doing this. Thucydides believes R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 7 9 that the discerning eye can extract general guidelines about human behavior from events, but that these principles are neither obvious nor universally applicable. Their applicability and truth comes from familiarity with the particulars. The second main trend in Thucydidean criticism, represented by Stahl, Macleod, and Connor, argues that Thucydides is fundamentally pessimistic about people’s ability to predict events.8 9 Although I have learned much from each of these works, I advance an argument suggesting grounds for optimism. Stahl 1966 describes many specific instances in which characters’ plans go awry. Even intelligent characters like Demosthenes and Phormion cannot accurately predict events. However, there is a danger in looking too closely at their analysis; this danger can be illustrated using an example from my first chapter. At the battle of Olpai, Demosthenes clearly had a plan, and the verbal reminiscences establish that significant parts of that plan came true. But we cannot claim that every single event between the planning and the eventual victory 891 have discussed Stahl’s and Connor’s ideas in the first chapter. Macleod’s studies of Thucydidean speeches also emphasizes the pessimistic side of Thucydides. They take up two themes in particular. First, Macleod explores the notion of “failure of analysis” in Thucydides, drawing attention to cases in which words do no good (e.g. the Plataian speech, the Melian Dialogue). The second is the theme of “unmasking.” Macleod draws attention to places where Thucydides uses a character’s own words to reveal that character’s hidden motivations and fears. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 S 0 was in fact intended or predicted by Demosthenes. We would be holding characters to impossible standards if we expected too close a correspondence between planning and analysis.9 0 Neither the commanders with operational expertise nor the practitioners of psychological expertise can reliably predict just how their plans will succeed in the event. They are content to use ideas that work most of the time. No characters in Thucydides, not even Perikles, can guarantee results.9 1 My argument also has certain implications for the theory of historiography. The starting-point for a discussion of the historian’ views on human motivations is the historian’s ability to know anything at all about the cognition of characters at any 9 0 Thucydides’ judgments about an actor’s achievements, I argue, move away from the sequential perspective. When commenting on human actions or decisions, Thucydides characteristically ignores events subsequent to the character’s action. 9 1 Thucydides does not expect his characters to foresee the future. As the battle of Olpai demonstrates, Thucydides gives his intelligent characters the ability to predict significant results with reasonable confidence. In his account of the actual battle, Thucydides frequently treats the battle as a sequence of events, many of which are fortuitous and unpredictable. On the other hand, as at Pylos, Thucydides suggests that the eventual result could have come about in the absence of any one, or any number, of those constituent events. Sometimes, however, Thucydides does hypothesize a different course of events if one event had turned out differently. These cases are collected in Homblower 1994:158-9 under the heading “if-not situations.” R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 8 1 moment in time. One of the more influential historiographical works of recent times is Veyne 1984. He argues that understanding about human causality is simply a retrospective illusion (Veyne 1984:177-9).9 2 Thucydides tackles the problem of human thought from his own experience and knowledge about contemporary military events, and by placing the reader in the middle of these events. Thucydides makes the reader see what the actors could realistically have seen. The most relevant part of Veyne's argument for my own purposes is the chapter on “Causality and Retrodiction.” According to Veyne, retrodiction is the retrospective equivalent of prediction, and it is in some ways similar to Thucydides’ practice of presenting events as characters see them. Veyne argues that prediction and retrodiction are essentially the same kinds of mental activity. An actor at a moment in history tries to predict what is going to happen by assessing the likelihoods of a given situation; retrodiction is the means by which the 9 2 Veyne's argument often assumes that the historian and his subject-matter are separated culturally and temporally. For instance, Veyne 1984:179-80 claims he does not know what goes through the head of a Carthaginian as he is sacrificing his first-born son. This temporal and cultural separation does not exist for Thucydides. At other times, Veyne claims that even the original historical actors do not have a clear ideas about why they are doing what they are doing. I suggest that Veyne assumes a rather high standard of “truth” in the explanation of human motivation. Motives cannot be proved in the same way as historical facts. I believe historians should be content with explanations of motivation which are convincing. By convincing, I mean that the historian should conform to generally accepted modes of explanation. These generally accepted modes of explanation would answer the question “why” for a knowledgeable reader. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2S2 historian explains human action within a historical context, without looking at results. Using retrodiction, Veyne claims that an historian can grasp the likely causes and motives of human action. Though this account offers a tempting model for Thucydides’ historiographical method, I believe Thucydides’ practice is different from this in significant ways. Thucydides does not stand back from the evidence and offer objective explanations; instead, he tries to get inside the actors’ minds. He ties the narrative to the experiences of characters. Thucydides constructs a model of human activity in which action must be tied to recognizable interests and goals.9 3 The various focalizations in the narrative give a convincing historical explanation because they define the limits of a character’s knowledge, and they define the considerations which the actor is most likely to prioritize in his pursuit of goals. In this chapter I have focused on Thucydides’ ability to explain human action within the context of a campaign, or within a series of similar events. I have argued that Thucydides’ view of human action is fundamentally goal oriented. In the next chapter, I look at general knowledge, which looks at the way certain individuals use a goal oriented view to look at the distant future. Characters like Perikles persuade whole R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 8 3 states to go to war. They need to use certain psychological techniques to characterize convincingly a state’s long term goals. They also use an adapted form of operational expertise to come up with short term strategies that gradually work towards that goal. Brasidas is one of the most intelligent characters in Thucydides, but he does not often exhibit the global view of a whole war that we find for instance in the speeches of Perikles. But many of Perikles’ intellectual techniques resemble the psychological expertise I have demonstrated in this chapter. For instance, Brasidas is an expert at finding and identifying signs of human goals and intentions in a military environment. The narrative of the second battle of Amphipolis is full of these signs. Perikles also invokes signs of a different kind in his Funeral Speech (2.41.2, 2.41.4, 2.43.3). The signs represent human intelligence at work, and they could be treated as metaphors for historical interpretation (ek ton epiphanestaton semeion: 1.21.1). Through his own arguments, and by using the example of intelligent characters, Thucydides encourages the reader to look for signs in the text. These signs may operate on the level of operational expertise, psychological expertise, or general knowledge. 9 3 In the third chapter I explore goals, both long term and short term. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Copyright 2000 GENERALS AND PARTICULARS IN THUCYDIDES (Volume II) by Alex Watts-Tobin A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (CLASSICS) August 2000 Alex Watts-Tobin R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 1 1 Table of Contents (Volume II) Chapter Three: Putting Perikles into Practice....................................................... 2S4-475 Part One: Arguments about Resources and Achievability.................... 305 Part Two: What is Conceivable and What is A chievable...................... 350 Part Three: Perikles..................................................................................... 389 Part Four: General Know ledge.................................................................. 433 Conclusion.................................................................................................... 470 Conclusion................................................................................................................ 476-485 Bibliography................................................................................................. 486 Abbreviations................................................................................................. 49S List of Tables (Volume ID Table #2: The Korinthians’ third speech......................................................... 320 Table #3: Perikles’ first speech........................................................................ 321 Tale #4: The Mytilenean speech..................................................................... 322 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 8 4 C h a p t e r T h r e e : P u t t i n g P e r i k l e s i n t o P r a c t i c e Perikles on the necessities of war: To recede is no longer possible, if indeed any of you in the alarm of the moment has become enamored of the honesty of such an unambitious part. For what you hold is, to speak somewhat plainly, a tyranny; to take it perhaps was wrong, but to let it go is unsafe. And men of these retiring views, making converts of others, would quickly ruin a state; indeed the result would be the same if they could live independent by themselves; for the retiring and unambitious are never secure without vigorous protectors at their side; in fine, such qualities are useless to an imperial city, though they may help a dependency to an unmolested servitude. 2.63.2-3, tr. Crawley In this chapter, I explore a type of cognition which I call general knowledge. Perikles is the supreme practitioner of this type of cognition. General knowledge is related to, but different from, the cognitive techniques I studied in the last two chapters. It incorporates tactical expertise, as exemplified by Demosthenes, and psychological expertise, as exemplified by Brasidas. However general knowledge does not focus on the particular circumstances of a single battle or campaign, but on the larger and more general concerns of a whole war. Only the most intelligent characters in the History have the capacity to make prognoses of this type. General knowledge could be used for any momentous decision whose consequences are large and long term. Decisions like his R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 S 5 require the most elaborate analysis. In this chapter I argue that Thucydides presents Perikles as the main practitioner of general knowledge and the supreme intellect in the work, because his prognoses reach furthest into the future. Perikles’ analysis is the most accurate in the sense that it applies best to the later events of the war. The main material in this chapter consists of the speeches, and in particular the speeches for war. I study speeches because they contain the most complex and extensive analyses by characters. And I study speeches for war because the choice to go to war is the most fundamental and momentous type of decision made by characters in Thucydides. Throughout this dissertation, I have shown that characters constantly analyze the consequences of their own actions. In this chapter, I show how some of them develop a mode of analysis which is more powerful than the two kinds of analysis I studied previously. General knowledge allows characters to see the complex sets of possibilities which accompany decisions for war. There are many decisions for war in Thucydides, and many of them are illustrated by speeches. These decisions tend to be surrounded by a complex set of expectations concerning both military capability and psychological phenomena. I unpack these expectations in the course of the chapter. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 8 6 comparing the way various speakers analyze the future.1 My method picks out the main spine of argument in each speech. For example, Perikles’ main purpose in his speeches is to show that Athens is right to go to war, and that Athens ought to win the war if it fights in the way Perikles advises. This purpose is well understood by readers of Thucydides. However, I believe that the assumptions underlying Perikles’ purposes are less well understood. In particular, the relation between Perikles’ future analysis and the later events of the war is complex, and can only be studied properly by understanding the general nature of decisions for war in Thucydides. My argument in this chapter is based on a comparative study of numerous speeches in Thucydides, all of which relate to the question of going to war. From book one, I study the Kerkyraian and Korinthian speeches in the Kerkyra Debate (1.32-43). 1 Cogan 1981 provides excellent discussions of individual warmongers' speeches, focusing on the particular circumstances surrounding each one. He argues that it is the job of the historian to represent each speech in its particularity; consequently, he investigates the way each speech sheds light on the political decisions made on the occasion of the speech. Cogan’s approach differs from mine in that he begins with the historical decision and its political context, and then considers arguments in the speech which illustrate that decision. I start with the main argument of each speech, and I view that speech as an articulation of a decision for war. I do not wish to underrate the value of Cogan’s analysis; however, I find that Cogan’s approach makes his discussions of individual decisions rather more satisfying than his comparisons between different decisions. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. the speeches of the Korinthians and Archidamos in Sparta (1.69-71, 1.80-85), the Korinthian speech to the allied congress (1.120-124), and Perikles’ first speech (1.140- 44). From the rest of the work, I use Perikles’ Funeral Speech and his final speech (2.35-46, 2.60-64), the speech by the Mytileneans in Olympia (3.9-14), the three speeches of Hermokrates (4.59-64, 6.33-34, 6.76-78), and the Melian Dialogue (5.85- 113). The speeches in book one naturally concern the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, and I identify in them the characteristic features of a case for war. However, there are many decisions for war in Thucydides. These other speeches for war exhibit the same set of features. For instance, the Mytilenean speech is fundamentally a request for alliance, but it also shows why the Mytileneans are revolting from Athens. The speakers know that revolt means war; consequently, their argument resembles a case for war.: I identify a small group of speakers as “warmongers,” because their speeches may be considered prototypical cases for war. I call them warmongers simply because they act in this capacity in the text: they deliver speeches encouraging a whole state to 2 When Thucydides attributes a speech to more than one person, I do not assume that it is delivered in unison by a number of speakers. While the speech is given by one person, it has probably been composed by more than one person. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2S8 go to war. The main warmongers in Thucydides are Perikles, the Korinthians. the Mytileneans, and Hermokrates. I look at Hermokrates’ three main speeches in this chapter, whereas I explored his actions and tactical thinking in chapter two. The boundaries of the group of warmongers cannot be strictly defined, even if we can identify core members. All of the speeches mentioned above possess most of the characteristics of a typical case for war. Other speeches, such as those by Kleon and Diodotos, have a rather different main purpose, but nevertheless exhibit some of those characteristics. In this chapter I concentrate on the main speeches for war, and show that certain types of argument are employed by various warmongers. I do not consider all warmongers as practitioners of general knowledge. I understand general knowledge as the capacity to combine achievability arguments and arguments about goals in an effective fashion— that is, to make accurate long term prognoses. Only Perikles, and to an extent Hermokrates, can truly do this. And in this chapter I concentrate very little on the interaction of speaker and audience, even though I have considered this question in chapter two. My method of analysis picks out general similarities between arguments for war, regardless of circumstances and audiences. Of course, the relation between these speakers and their audience is an important topic, and R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 8 9 scholars like Cogan 1981 and Crane 1998 discuss this question very profitably. I intend to give a comparative analysis in this chapter, and to focus less on the particular circumstances of delivery unless they directly affect the shape of the speech’s main argument. Thucydides presents Perikles’ arguments, for example, as if the audience believes every word of them. The Athenian assembly relies on its speakers to deliver long term analyses. However, the assembly does have the power to select whichever analysis it likes best (1.139.4, 2.60.4-6). In these speeches I identify two distinct argumentative approaches, which I call achievability arguments and arguments about goals. These two types of argument are related to the kinds of analysis I have studied in the first two chapters of the dissertation. Achievability arguments are related to operational expertise, which I studied in the first chapter. Warmongers make use of specific pieces of military knowledge and plot consequences from them, just like Demosthenes; however, they look ahead not to a single battle, but to multiple potential battles in the coming war. Arguments about goals are related to psychological expertise, which I studied in chapter two. A crucial feature of psychological expertise is the ability to read other people's intentions, to exploit enemy weaknesses and the wishes of friends. The most successful R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 290 Thucydidean warmongers are those who define their own state’s goals most compellingly, and who can use the enemy’s goals to work out its more immediate strategies and intentions. Again, warmongers take psychological expertise to a different and more general level. They try to articulate goals that will remain in people’s minds over the course of the whole war, and they identify correspondingly large enemy goals. Together, achievability arguments and goal oriented arguments give characters the ability to analyze the distant future. They constitute the defining index of general knowledge. I suggest that Perikles is supreme in the work because he can mesh achievability arguments and goal oriented arguments most convincingly. The wider argument of this chapter is that Thucydides presents these arguments to the reader as examples of ways to look at history. The reader may use the warmongers’ methods to analyze not only past history, but also current and future events. Thucydides shows the reader how to use the notions of achievability and goals in order to adopt an intellectual approach to contemporary and future events. When they recommend momentous decisions such as going to war, the speakers make a division between things which are analyzable and things which are not. It could be said that intellectually they approach the future from both ends: from the far end, when R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 291 articulating goals, and from the near end, when describing potential achievement. Each speaker attempts to make a convincing transition from near to far; that is, from what is immediately achievable to long term goals. Each speaker recognizes that tyclie and the future course of events lie between the two. Achievability arguments express confidence in a state’s military capability; arguments about goals express the reasons why a state should go to war, often by describing the desirable results of victory in war. Thucydides suggests that the future events can only be successfully analyzed using a combination of these intellectual approaches. This chapter contains four sections. In section one, I discuss achievability arguments in three warmongers’ speeches. I show how each speaker builds a case for war out of small, confident claims about achievement. These arguments relate to short term analysis. In part two, I explore the rationale by which warmongers distinguish long term predictions and short term predictions. Warmongers are aware of the difficulties of predicting long term results. In part three I show how Perikles sets out an argument based on goals; in this argument he focuses rigorously on Athens’ present power and its future interests. Perikles minimizes factors which are extraneous to Athens’ goals. In the fourth section, I compare Perikles with Hermokrates, and argue that by comparing R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 9 2 analyses which are widely separated, and which are used in quite different circumstances, we can appreciate how these speakers make predictions that apply long into the future. In the course of the chapter I demonstrate many similarities between the speeches of various warmongers. The analyses have similar characteristics because decisions for war often involve similar assumptions. In a comparative study of all the major international wars since 1700, Blainey has observed that the situations which provoke wars are often similar.3 For the purposes of my study, his most important insights relate to the states’ or political leaders’ ideas about future achievement. These attitudes about future achievement serve as a series of necessary conditions for war. Four of these tenets are particularly important for studying arguments about war. First, a state goes to war to achieve something.4 A state cannot go to war if it does not have 3 Blainey 1973. He does not discuss the ancient world, but his conclusions are valuable and far-reaching. I have sometimes adapted his claims to show their particular relevance to Thucydides. Blainey’s observations form the basis for my study of achievability arguments. One of his most important contentions is that a state’s war aims are usually well known to the enemy side. 4 Like Blainey, I sometimes attribute the ideas of political leaders to a whole state or people. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 9 3 some objective. The state must think that the objective is achievable by war, though not necessarily in the short run. Second, the state’s leaders believe that the objective is not achievable by other means. Wars usually break out after a round of negotiations: states tend to go to war after they have exhausted every possibility of negotiating a settlement. Third, the objective should be justifiable to the people of the state. As Blainey points out, states do not tend to go to war believing they are in the wrong. Political leaders must have some way of justifying the campaign to their state’s governing body, however strained their reasoning may appear to outside observers. A fourth condition is that a state must be confident about its military power. Military power gives a state the ability to impose its will on others. Not all states are equal in power. Consequently, the state going to war must have some sense of the extent to which its military power entitles it to control others (or conversely, the extent to which its military inferiority necessitates subjection to others). In Thucydides, treaties play an important role in calculations of military power. Political leaders often invoke them in speeches for war. Treaties define concretely what we can call the state’s sphere of influence: its own territory, its dependent states, its alliances, and so forth. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 9 4 These four conditions are not particularly controversial in themselves. But taken together, they form a fairly high threshold for war. A state does not go to war unless these four conditions hold. In fact, we can interpret a state’s entry into war as an acknowledgment that these four conditions hold.5 These conditions provide ready excuses for not going to war. Blainey acutely observes that a state cannot truly be forced into war. Obviously, if one side invades another, the aggressor is choosing war. Usually, that state is the stronger side. But Blainey shows that the victim of invasion, despite being weaker, also chooses war. If a state thinks it will lose, it will make concessions to the enemy rather than go to war. In this case, the state will lose more by fighting than by negotiating. This claim can be turned around. When a state refuses to make concessions, it thereby chooses war. Necessarily, that state thinks it is better to go to war than to negotiate.6 When looking at speeches for war in Thucydides, we find the 5 It is of course possible for political leaders to deceive themselves about the prospects for success in the coming war. Blainey 1973:35-56 gives numerous examples of overoptimistic thinking on the eve of war. I argue that Thucydides’ warmongers have remarkably sober expectations. 6 Blainey is careful to avoid saying that each state that goes to war believes it will win. He stops at saying that each state is confident about its military position. In some cases, a state may believe that it will lose the war, but not lose catastrophically. Blainey holds that states go to war when they think they can achieve more by fighting than by negotiating (1973:245-7). Therefore, a state could go to war thinking it will lose the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 9 5 speakers explicitly acknowledging the importance of negotiations in choices for war. But we also find explicit acceptance of the four conditions I outlined above. The speakers are confident that these four conditions hold. Blainey’s study is chiefly valuable for its concentration on the intentions on both warring parties: he recognizes that the conditions outlined above must hold true for both sides in a war. The major combatants’ own war aims must be incompatible with each other, and yet each state must be confident about its ability to accomplish its own aims. In what follows I discuss the expectations and anticipations of various characters who advocate war. To a large extent, these anticipations are guided by the normal conditions and assumptions of military engagement. The four conditions I identified above are easy to find in Thucydides’ speeches, and are crucial for interpretation of them. However, it is not my main intention in this chapter to show how Blainey’s observations hold true for Thucydides. Instead, I use the assumptions Blainey describes in order to form a method of analysis appropriate to Thucydidean speeches in particular. My model focuses on the distinction between short war, but still thinking that it will achieve more than it would by giving in to the enemy’s initial demands (Blainey 1973:115-9). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. term and long term analysis. I do believe, however, that Blainey’s tenets hold for warmongers’ speeches in Thucydides. Some of them have been overlooked in past scholarship. As a result, scholars have failed to appreciate the complexity of the various arguments for war. By identifying the four tenets mentioned above in warmongers’ speeches, I believe we can begin to appreciate the nature of arguments for war in Thucydides. First, each speaker is very careful to define his state’s war aims. I discuss statements about war aims in the next section, and I show how speakers distinguish between immediate aims and long term goals. Second, if we compare the various speeches for war in Thucydides, it is remarkably hard to find anyone who would prefer to make concessions rather than fight.7 Scholars have often been impressed by Perikles’ repeated refusals to yield to Sparta, but have not always noticed the consistency with which other speakers refuse to yield to the enemy. To take the third point, speakers very frequently level the charge of adikia or adikein against the enemy. I will show that speakers use this term not out of moral outrage, but because they believe their interests have been violated. As a result, arguments of justification tend to shade into arguments that war is necessary. In this chapter, I will concentrate on the latter more than the 7 Bosworth 1993 argues that the Melians bring destruction on themselves by refusing the Athenians’ demands, which are actually no harsher than those imposed on any other member of the empire. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 2 9 7 former. The fourth condition is a complex one, and I will be examining it in detail in this section. In the Mytilene Debate, Kleon nicely illustrates the relation between Athens’ power and its sphere of influence: “If they were correct to revolt, then you would be ruling where you should not be ruling” (3.40.4).8 Kleon implies here that 8 On my reading, Kleon is making a judgment about practicality, not about morality (“they were right to revolt”). Kleon makes this statement just after asserting that his recommended course of action is both just and expedient: TTEl0O|iEVOl (JEV EpOl TOC TE StKCtia MuTlAr| V a i O U $ Kai £up<popa a p a Troif|OETE, dXAcos 8 e y v o v T E $ to T $ p e v o u x a Pie^°0E - u p a s Se c c u t o u s paXXov SiKaicbaEo0E. si y a p o u t o i op0co<; dTTEOTriaau, u p e i s a v ou x P ec^v apxoiTE. E i 8 e Sp Kai ou TTpoafjKOU opcos a^iouTE t o u t o 8pav, Trapa t o e i k o s t o i xai t o u o S e ^upcpopcos 5eT KoAa^EO0ai. To sum up shortly, I say that if you follow my advice you will do what is just towards the Mitylenians [s/c], and at the same time expedient; while by a different decision you will not oblige them so much as pass sentence upon yourselves. For if they were right in rebelling, you must be wrong in ruling. However, if, right or wrong, you determine to rule, you must carry out your principle and punish the Mitylenians as your interest requires; or else you must give up your empire and cultivate honesty without danger. 3.40.4, tr. Crawley The conditional sentence e i . . . archoite, which I have translated in the main text, has not attracted much discussion from commentators. I believe Crawley and most others translate the phrase inaccurately. Gomme f/CT2:310 translates the term orthos as “correctly,” not “wrongly.” I believe this is correct, since Thucydides does not use a word like dikaids. At this point, Kleon is talking about practicalities rather than ethics. Kleon means that if Athens does not have the power to stop Mytilene from revolting, R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 29S political leaders must make calculations about their own power, and decide what level of power is sufficient to hold a given territory. Just as Athens must not try to rule places it cannot defend, Athens must show the other allies that it really can defend the cities it currently rules. These four conditions, taken together, are necessary components of a case for war. They reveal assumptions and implications about potential achievement in the coming war. My main aim in this section is to show how deep the similarities are between three warmongers’ speeches. The normal expectations of warmongers function as strata of analysis. In the course of the chapter, I will follow these strata, and show how speakers connect them together into an argument for war. Cases for war represent the most ambitious and momentous arguments about the future in Thucydides; consequently, they provide the best material for studying long term future analysis by Thucydidean characters. then it should not be ruling Mytilene in the first place. Kleon is not interested in whether the allies are justified in revolting (cf. Macleod 1977). He does not argue anywhere in the speech that the allies ought to revolt because Athens is evil. At most, he claims that the allies actually do want to revolt because Athens is evil. Echoing Perikles, Kleon asserts that the Athenian empire is indeed morally unjust (3.40.4, cf. 2.63.2). He takes this echo of Perikles a step further, and argues that Athens must treat the allies badly, because it is the only way to keep them in line. That is to say, Kleon recognizes the role of threat in foreign policy. His policy turns out to be quite effective, at least until 412. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 299 The following discussion uses characters’ analysis as an index of historiographical analysis. This method does not depend on the authenticity of these speeches.9 Indeed, I believe that concern with authenticity may lead readers to miss the essence of the speech. Many scholars have tended to discuss Thucydidean speeches either as whole units or as collections of specific and testable facts. In my opinion Thucydides is not primarily interested either in reproducing whole speeches, or in making sure every speaker gets every fact right. Instead, Thucydides is interested in arguments. He wishes to reproduce, as accurately as possible, those arguments which the main proponents of war advanced during the initial debates and throughout the war. These pieces of analysis reveal how each side looked at the current situation. These 91 use the text of the speeches to discover the various parties’ account of their entry into the war, according to Thucydides. I believe that the main arguments in these speeches were probably actually delivered; however, the question of authenticity is not strictly relevant to my argument. As Cogan puts it (1981:xii), the aim is to discover Thucydides’ version of the war, not the actual events of the war. This version includes the speeches as Thucydides represents them, not as they were actually given. Cogan points out later (1981:179, 204) that the historical speeches cannot have been exactly like the speeches Thucydides gives. The ones we have must be shorter than the original speeches, and that they may well be amalgamated versions of several original speeches. Even so, the ideas in the speeches may be substantially authentic. Kallet-Marx 1993:75 n.18 expresses a similar view of the authenticity of the speeches. She contends that Thucydides “ensures the prominence” of certain authentic arguments, even if the original speeches have been edited by Thucydides. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 0 arguments show why they believed it would be necessary or beneficial to go to war. and how they intended to fight it. In what follows I trace the main structmal argument within each speech, and show what that argument reveals about characters’ motivations and expectations. Blainey has shown convincingly that historical characters making a responsible decision for war must discuss the state’s motivations and intentions in a convincing way. My method observes Blainey’s precepts, and treats the speeches as historical explanation. In what follows I do make some assumptions about Thucydidean speeches. I do not assume that every word of a given speech was delivered on this occasion by that person. But I do assume that each speech reflects the current point of view of the state the speakers represent.1 0 Moreover, I believe that the main arguments of the speeches were actually given in this or a similar form. However, I cannot use just any speech, because not all speeches in Thucydides deal with the beginning of a war. Brasidas’ battle speech at 5.9 and Demosthenes’ speech at 4.10 apply to immediate situations, and exhibit different forms of cognition, as I have demonstrated in previous chapters. The 1 0 Dewald 1985:56 observes that every speech in Thucydides, unlike in Herodotos, is a serious deliberative speech. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 1 following discussion concentrates on those speeches which can be regarded as warmongers’ speeches; the discussion is intended to show how many speeches reflect the assumptions, expectations, and motivations of a warmonger’s speech. Those speeches which concern breaking away from the Athenian empire, such as the Mytilenean speech at 3.9-13 and Brasidas’ speech to the Akanthians at 4.85-S7, turn out to have the same intellectual structure as the prototypical warmonger's speeches I discuss in part one. This is because the states realize that revolting from Athens means making war with Athens. So while I discuss a selection of speeches in Thucydides, that selection is rather a large one. Moreover, Thucydides has made his own selection of speeches. For instance, Thucydides tells us at 1.139.4 that he has suppressed speeches. On the occasion of Perikles’ first speech, Thucydides says, many Athenians came forward and delivered speeches on both sides of the question [about going to war]. While Perikles gives just one of a number of opinions advanced during that debate, Thucydides records his alone because it is the most persuasive (1.139.4, 1.145.1).“ That “ Scholars have noted that Thucydides gives no speech challenging Perikles’ first speech and advocating concessions and peace, even though he states that speeches like this were given on that occasion (1.139.4). Thucydides clearly intends Perikles’ speech to dominate Athenian thinking on the eve of war; however, another possible reason would be that Thucydides did not consider the other speeches to be of sufficient analytic quality. In this chapter, I maintain that Thucydides tries to give the best case he can for a particular point of view. If we accept this point, then we can argue that Thucydides R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 2 is, Perikles’ speech defines the audience’s current attitudes and expectations. In this sense, a speech which is approved by the Athenian ekklesia could be regarded as representing the state’s interests and attitudes.1 2 In the same way, speeches given to other governing bodies, such as the Spartan xyllogon (1.67.3, 1.87.1) or the Peloponnesian League assembly (1.119.1, 1.125.1-2), represent their respective states' expressed interests. does not give a speech advocating peace on this occasion because he does not consider that such a case could be made satisfactorily. Similarly, in the tetralogy at Sparta, no Peloponnesian speaker actually advocates peace. Archidamos does not argue against war: he argues that the Spartans are not ready for war as yet, and should go to war in two or three years if Athens does not back down (1.82.2). If Thucydides regards Archidamos’ speech as the best Spartan case against going to war, then he does not think a satisfactory case could be made by the Spartans against war tout court. 1 2 Perikles’ first speech coincides with the moment when in Thucydides’ judgment the Peloponnesian W ar began. Rawlings 1981 argues convincingly that the division between book one and book two of the History occurs at the division between peace and war. Thucydides recognizes the start of the Peloponnesian War as the moment when both sides have acknowledged that the treaty has been broken. The Spartan decision for war occurs before the Athenian decision. The question of the start of the war was a matter of debate at the time (cf. Crane 1992:1), since many people thought the hostilities with Korinth constituted acts of war. Thucydides indicates in the narrative of the battle of Sybota that the Korinthians and even some Athenians think this (1.49.4, 1.53.2). However, Thucydides makes clear at 1.66.1 that the war has not yet broken out. Thucydides does not diminish the importance of these incidents as proximate causes of the war, but he does make clear that they do not count as parts of the war itself. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 3 While I take each of these speeches as a serious presentation of a state’s interests, I do not assume that every individual argument within these speeches is a good one. In Thucydides, characters make bad choices, and circumstances often turn out to be different from speakers’ expectations. Characters often get facts wrong and interpret events incorrectly. Some of the speeches I discuss have a particularly bad reputation for accuracy and analysis: the third Korinthian speech (1.120-124) and Alkibiades’ speech in Athens (6.16-8) are most frequently taken to task.1 3 It is clear that Thucydides presents speeches of varying quality. In this chapter, I argue that Perikles’ speeches are in a profound analytical sense the most accurate. However, the next section suggests that at least in terms of short term analysis, the third Korinthian speech and the Mytilenean speech are very comparable to Perikles’ first speech. They approach the question of going to war in the same way as Perikles, and their main arguments at least are reasonably sound ones. To be sure, we can find weaknesses and inaccuracies in all speeches, including Perikles’. But if we take warmongers’ speeches to reflect what a speaker knows about his state’s position and interests at the time of speaking, we can better appreciate their value. I argue in this chapter that warmongers’ speeches in Thucydides do exhibit the characteristic features of a responsible decision for war. 1 3 See Cogan 1981:35-6, Macleod 1975, Macleod 1983:124, and Pelling 1991:133. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 4 Thucydides wishes to represent the nature of each state’s decision for war, and presents the speeches in such a way as to reveal that nature. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 5 Part One: Arguments about Resources and Achievability In this section I discuss three warmongers’ speeches: Perikles’ first speech (1.140-144). the third speech by the Korinthians (1.120-124), and the Mytileneans’ speech in Olympia (3.9-14). The speeches by Perikles and the Korinthians give the fullest account of the reasons for starting the Peloponnesian War on each side. These two speeches may be regarded as the two prototypical warmongers’ speeches, since almost every part of these speeches bears directly and explicitly on the question of going to war. I use the Mytilenean speech to show that decisions by other states to join the war, and arguments about continuing the war, exhibit similar features to the prototypical warmongers’ speeches. Though the particular circumstances of each speech are different, they are essentially similar in analytic approach. The main purpose of each speech relates to a decision for war. Perikles argues that Athens should go to war; the Korinthians acknowledge the Spartan decision to go to war, and attempt to persuade the minor states within the Peloponnesian League that they must join the war actively; the Mytileneans show how they have been forced to break from the alliance, and ask for Spartan support in their war against Athens. Each of these arguments for war leads to a certain characterization of events. When comparing speeches for war, it is critical to identify the speakers’ own categories of analysis. In what follows, I focus on the way in which R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 6 the speakers structure their own speech. I derive the categories of analysis from Perikles’ speech in particular, because he gives the most transparent analysis. However. I will show how the other speeches treat the question of war in much the same way as Perikles. In fact, all speeches advocating war in Thucydides appear to have a similar analytic structure. In order to discuss preparations for war, it is crucial to define the terms of that discussion. Warmongers’ speeches would seem to have ready-made categories of analysis, namely resources and strategy. Many previous Thucydides scholars have used a distinction between resources and strategy to discuss each side’s readiness for war.1 ' However, it seems that Thucydides does not recognize this distinction. For example, when Perikles gives a detailed discussion of Sparta’s shortcomings at 1.141.2, he examines both strategy and resources in the same paragraph.1 5 Perikles does not seem to use any distinction between these ideas in structuring his arguments for war. When we u Some scholars discuss resources more than strategy, e.g. Westlake 1968:30. Other scholars, such as Cogan 1981:37, concentrate on strategy rather than resources. 1 5 Kallet-Marx combines notions of resources and strategy when she quotes 1.141.2 and calls it an examination of “the reasons for Athens’ superiority in power over the Spartans” (1993:94). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 7 summarize the content of a particular section of text, we must be careful about labeling it a discussion of “resources” or “strategy.” It may be both at the same time. This modem distinction leads to more serious problems in interpreting Thucydidean speeches. In particular, it imposes limits on scholars’ notions of what constitutes a “resource.” Many scholars construe resources simply as the material preparations for the war, such as money, ships, hoplites, and so on.1 6 This notion is too limited, as Perikles’ first speech shows. And what is missing does not just fall into the category of “strategy.” Throughout the warmongers’ speeches, as I will show, one of the most important types of resource is psychological advantage. In what follows, I use a rather wider notion of resources than is usually accepted. My concept of resources more accurately reflects the categories and vocabulary used by Perikles and other warmongers. Perikles’ main term for discussing Athens’ readiness for war is ta hyparchonta. He uses cognates of this term many times throughout his speeches. And on several occasions, Perikles does indeed use the term when introducing detailed descriptions of Athens’ military preparations— men, ships, and money (1.141.2, 2.13.3, 9; cf. 2.62. 2). This makes it tempting to translate the word 1 6 See de Romilly 1963; cf. Allison 1989:17-44. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 8 as “resources,” in the narrower sense. However, the term really means “that which is present” or “that which belongs.” Perikles uses this same term to cover notions not usually recognized as resources. He uses the term to express notions of property, either in a concrete or an abstract sense. For instance, he uses hypcirchonta of the inessential property, such as land and homes, which the forefathers sacrificed when resisting the Persians (1.144.4).1 7 And in an abstract sense, Perikles uses hyparchei to describe the habitual predicament (or property) of ruling states— that they are hated by their subjects (2.64.5). In the former instance, Perikles is expressly distinguishing those things he describes as ta hyparchonta from those things which are actually crucial to Athens’ military power, such as money and hoplites. Perikles returns to the abstract sense in the 1 7 This instance shows that Perikles does not use the term ta hyparchonta exclusively to express military preparations or readiness for war. However, he does use the term in a military sense in the great majority of cases. Perikles uses the term in its wider sense far more than in the restricted sense of material preparations: ships, men, money. The Korinthians use the term ta hetoima (1.70.4) in the same way as Perikles uses ta hyparchonta. In this context, the Korinthians are accusing the Spartans of being reluctant to go abroad because they risk losing their current possessions, while the Athenians are only too eager to go abroad and acquire more. The Korinthians are referring to possessions the Spartans have acquired over the years; however, those possessions include a network of alliances and military forces; this network itself contributes to Sparta’s military strength. So both ta hyparchonta and ta hetoima could simply mean “possessions” in a non-military sense. However, these terms almost always carry military overtones, and refer to either concrete or abstract factors which they expect to play a part in the war. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 0 9 Funeral Speech, when he says that other states lack the hyparchonta which Athens currently enjoys (2.42.1). In this case, he is referring to all the qualities he praises in Athens: its laws, its citizens’ free lifestyle, the respect it enjoys across the Greek world. While all these ideas would not naturally correspond to modem notions of military resources, Perikles nevertheless presents them as factors which will influence the war. By invoking an abstract notion of possession, Perikles implies a measure of intellectual control over future events. Perikles’ speeches are argumentatively complex, and they incorporate many different kinds of hyparchonta.I S Perikles has a notion of hyparchonta which is wider than either material possessions or modem notions of military resources. It incorporates material preparations, and also potential strategies, threats, national characteristics, and other factors. As a matter of convenience, I will sometimes refer to the term as meaning “resources,” understood in this wider sense. Other speakers use this wider conception of resources as well. The Korinthians use hyparchonta twice in their third speech (1.122.1, 1.124.1); on both occasions, they are introducing arguments 1 8 In chapter 2.62, Perikles uses the term four times, referring to the fear which should prevent the Athenian allies from breaking the alliance. To be sure, this fear arises from Athens’ naval superiority, but Perikles treats this fear as a factor, a hyparchon, in itself (2.62.1). Perikles argues here that the most important reason why Athens rules the seas is not that Athens actually does sail everywhere, but the recognition by the allies and by Sparta that it could if it wished. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 0 about a range of factors— material, strategic, and psychological— which they believe will give an advantage in the war. I follow Perikles’ more inclusive conception of the term. It can cover anything that is likely to give an advantage or disadvantage in the coming 19 war. Perikles’ method of analysis now becomes clear. In his speeches for war, he includes both concrete and abstract factors as a state’s resources. And each factor counts as an argument about potential advantage or disadvantage in the war. Obviously, Perikles expresses the belief that Athens is in a stronger position, since he recommends going to war. However, he does discuss points in the enemy’s favor as well as points in Athens’ favor. These advantages are not confined to material preparations. They are also based on fear and threats, on the corporate character of a nation, and particularly on potential strategies. In general, these arguments are individually quite small scale: none of the factors they present will win or lose the war by themselves. And in fact, neither 191 say “disadvantages” because each speaker also recognizes the enemy’s resources and his own relative weaknesses. In the tables below, I categorize resources as strengths and weaknesses. Strengths comprise all those advantages which the speaker sees as valid reasons for going to war, and weaknesses comprise all those all those disadvantages which the speaker recognizes as reasons not to go to war. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 1 Perikles nor any of the other warmongers offers any guarantee that his state will win the war. Because such a guarantee is lacking, these arguments should be treated as examples of small scale, short term reasoning. On the other hand, because the warmongers do not link these advantages to final victory in the war, they can more or less guarantee the success of these small scale factors. We can see from the tables and discussion below that other warmongers tackle the question in the same way as Perikles. If we examine warmongers’ speeches sympathetically, we find that most of the individual arguments are strong ones. Those which turn out to be wrong at least reflect the speaker’s state of knowledge at the time. I have discussed a similar type of reasoning already. In the first chapter, I showed that generals tend to view an imminent battle in terms of potential advantages and disadvantages. When Demosthenes gives his direct speech just after arriving at Pylos, he views the coming battle in terms of a disjunction between “that which gives grounds for confidence” and “that which is to be feared” (4.10.2-3).2 0 Characters assess 2 0 In his speech to the sixty picked troops, Demosthenes presents the difficulty of landing as a factor giving grounds for confidence, and presents the enemy’s numerical advantage as a factor which induces fear (4.10.2-3). I noted in the first chapter that Demosthenes frequently assesses a difficult situation using an antithesis of this kind. Brasidas also discusses advantages and disadvantages in his speeches at 4.126 and 5.9. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 312 critical military situations by distinguishing potential strengths and weaknesses. If we turn to decisions to go to war, we find that other warmongers also look at the situation in these terms. At 1.36.1 the Kerkyraians discuss the circumstances of their proposed alliance with Athens and conflict with Korinth in terms of a contrast between what is to dedios for the Korinthians, and what is to tharsoun for the Athenians. At 1.123.1, the Korinthians give “reasons to advance boldly.” At 6.34.9, Hermokrates asks the Syracusans to use their current fears as a basis for planning and for establishing confidence. Perikles refers to this attitude in the Funeral Speech, when he says that the ideal informed military attitude is “to know most thoroughly what is pleasant and what is to be feared” (2.40.3).2 1 Each of these discussions of particular situations makes an antithesis between things which give confidence and things which are fearsome. For convenience, I shall refer to these factors as strengths and weaknesses. These strengths and weaknesses include any factors which the speaker believes will have an influence However, Brasidas’ analysis incorporates a wider range of factors, which fall under the heading of psychological expertise. 2 1 In this passage, Perikles uses to hedu “pleasant” to refer to any factor which gives a sense of confidence in battle, and which persuades men not to shirk danger. In context, Perikles is arguing that logos is vital in military campaigns precisely because it can separate out strengths and dangers. In the previous two sections, he emphasized the role of logos in Athenian civic life. At 2.40.3, he asserts that Athenian logos provides practical advantages in war. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 3 on the conflict to come. Interestingly, among these examples, Demosthenes and Hermokrates use this intellectual approach to argue forcefully against the views of ordinary people in their audience.2 2 They criticize the ordinary men for basing their policy decisions only on concrete military preparations.2 3 In the tables below, I analyze complete speeches according to this conception of resources. These tables do not represent complete cases for war, because they ignore arguments about large objectives and war aims. The tables and the following discussion focuses on small scale potential achievement. They do show, however, how warmongers build quite comprehensive cases out of individual claims. They move from small factors to large. I have analyzed each section within the speech, and I have sorted "Thucydides often emphasizes the way leaders analyze present circumstances better than ordinary men. On many occasions, Perikles looks at la paronta— the present circumstances (2.13.2, 2.36.1, 2.41.1, 2.62.1, 2.63.2, 2.64.5, 2.64.6). In each of these instances, it is clear that his view of them is very different from that of most Athenians. 2 3 A crucial difference between Demosthenes and Hermokrates, however, is that the former is only discussing the potentialities of a single situation at the time of the speech. Hermokrates is discussing strengths and weaknesses in all the possible conflicts with Athens within the coming war. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 4 the content into eight categories.2 4 These categories reflect the way speakers use the notion of resources, and the way they structure their own speeches. Perikles points out his argument’s major structural units at 1.141.2 and 1.143.3.2 5 In the first, he says he will present Spartan weaknesses and Athenian strengths; in the second, he introduces other Athenian strengths. These descriptions fit Perikles’ overall argument, but they do not represent all the content of the speech. If we look at the specific claims in each section, we can also find many concessions about Athenian weaknesses and Spartan 2 4 In order to make the data presentable, I have tabulated the arguments according to chapter and section divisions in the text. If a given section contains a significant argument within a given category, then I enter that section number in the corresponding column in the table. Each section then gets “credit” under the heading of “offensive weakness,” for example, if it contains an argument for an offensive weakness, as defined above. Almost all sections have content that fits several categories. I take significant content to mean at least one explicit statement, or firm implication, of a given type of advantage. For instance, when Perikles makes the generalizing remark that wars are maintained more by reserves of money than by forced taxes, it is clear that Perikles is talking about the Spartan system of forced taxes as against the Athenian system of tribute payments. As a result, this comment fits in the categories of Athenian defensive strength, Athenian offensive strength, and Spartan offensive weakness. Many statements about defensive weaknesses naturally imply the other side’s offensive strengths, though this is not always the case. On the whole, a remark about one’s own defensive weaknesses will get credit only for that category if the speaker is only describing a potential enemy strategy. Such a statement will also get credit in the category of enemy’s offensive strength if the speaker implies that the enemy is likely to employ that strategy, and that it will be effective and possibly decisive in the war 2 5 The Korinthians structure their speech in the same way at 1.121.2, 1.122.1, and 1.124.1. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 5 strengths. The tables represent all of these claims. Perikles’ own explicit statements about his method yield two main distinctions, and four categories— strengths vs. weaknesses, and own side vs. the enemy. By examining the nature of these advantages and disadvantages, a third distinction reveals itself— that between defensive and offensive. Perikles draws a consistent distinction between factors that will actively harm the enemy, and those that will simply protect against the enemy’s strength. For instance at 1.141.7, he demonstrates the need for a consistent policy whether it is defensive or offensive. He claims that Athens’ ships will both harm Sparta (1.142.4) and prevent Sparta from acquiring naval strength (1.142.7). And when he tells his audience to think of Athens like an island (1.143.5), he is thinking of Athens in a defensive mode.261 agree with those scholars who maintain that Perikles has an offensive policy, which is distinct from his defensive policy.2 7 All in all, Perikles draws three main distinctions in 2 6 Perikles distinguishes the offensive and the defensive strength of the Athenian fleet: offensively, it can make attacks on the Peloponnese; defensively, it can supply Athens with whatever it needs, making Athens effectively into an island. Similarly, Perikles insists that the Spartans’ lack of money, their upbringing, and their lack of time will make them unable to compete in naval warfare; each of these factors constitutes an offensive weakness. 2 7 Holladay 1978:415 argues that Perikles has virtually no offensive policy, as does Cogan 1981:37. However, certain passages in the speech clearly indicate an offensive policy, and Thucydides appears to confirm this point at 2.7.3. Holladay’s case seems to R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 6 analyzing Athens’ prospects in the coming war; these three distinctions yield eight categories of analysis. There are four each referring to the Athenian side and to the enemy: they are offensive weaknesses, offensive strengths, defensive weaknesses, and defensive strengths. In the tables below, I have represented these categories as OW. OS. DW, and DS. The capitalized headings refer to the speaker’s own side, and the lower case headings refer to the enemy. We can analyze Perikles’ whole speech according to these categories. Furthermore, these same categories apply to the arguments for war by other speakers. In fact, it is possible to make a table like this for every warmonger’s speech in Thucydides.2 8 In this section I compare the tables for three speeches: the first speech of Perikles, and the speeches by the Korinthians and the Mytileneans. rely mostly on Perikles’ two conditions on success “if you do not try to extend the empire while fighting the war, and if you do not voluntarily set dangers in front of you” (1.144.1). I believe, with Gomme that Perikles is here making a distinction between aggressive naval operations and land campaigns (ad 1.144.1). That is to say, the Athenian operations at Pylos and Methone do not count as extending the empire, because those are temporary fortified posts. Athens is not adding tribute paying cities to its empire. Nor is it clear that Perikles would have regarded the Pylos or Methone expeditions as “voluntary dangers.” Perikles asserts that fortified posts in enemy territory make up a crucial part of Athens’ offensive policy (1.143.4). 2 8 This method can easily be applied to the other cases for war in Thucydides: the Kerkyra Debate, the tetralogy in Sparta, the Melian Dialogue, the Sicilian Debate in Athens, and Hermokrates’ speeches in Sicily. The results from these speeches are similar to the ones I present below. When comparing speeches for war in this way. it is worth making a simple distinction between monothematic speeches and polythematic R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 7 My main purpose in presenting these tables is to show how warmongers perform short term future analysis. The tables demonstrate the way in which speakers connect present resources, strategies, and qualities to potential achievement in the near future. However, the speakers do not make all claims with equal confidence. Each speaker makes a distinction between real or expected consequences and contingent or potential consequences. This distinction governs the way warmongers discuss future events and achievement. The main argument in a warmonger’s speech concerns the question whether to go to war, or to make concessions and seek peace. The warmonger naturally condemns the peace option. Consequently, each speaker spends some time describing the disastrous results of yielding to the enemy or of making concessions. He makes clear that these results will come about if the audience votes against war (or against joining a war alliance), and he claims that they will be avoided by choosing war. speeches. If we use this method to analyze Perikles’ other speeches, we see that the indirect speech at 2.13 focuses only on Athens’ defensive strengths, while most of the Funeral Speech praises Athens’ offensive strength almost exclusively, with only occasional references to other factors. Perikles’ last speech, however, covers all categories, because he is arguing that Athens should pursue the war and see it through to the end (cf. 1.140.1, 2.59.1). Speeches for war by other characters tend to be relatively polythematic, because most of the time the occasion requires a complete argument for war. All three of the speeches I discuss here are polythematic. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 8 Accordingly, the tables reflect a distinction between realities and potentialities or contingencies. I mark contingencies with parentheses.2 9 On the whole, when the warmonger describes what he regards as a wrong policy decision, he will mark out the results of that choice as contingencies. However, he will mark out the results of correct choices as realities, i.e. as relatively firm predictions.3 0 The speaker realizes that the 2 9 If a prediction is stated confidently, with the implication that this result will follow if events take their natural course, the speaker is treating the result as a reality. But on many occasions a speaker makes less confident predictions, and implies that events will be thrown off their natural course. If results depend on some unceitain prior condition, then they can be called “contingencies.” Characters like to speak as if they have control over future events; they know that contingency may mean chaos and disaster. When they describe contingencies, speakers usually attach the result to a condition: “if X then Y.” The Y component is the contingent result. The X component is the strange, unnatural, and by implication unpredictable action that throws events off course. The unpredictable action could be anything that is not foreseeable at the time: an act of nature, a sudden change of plan, or a strange enemy tactic. The speaker obviously regards these possibilities as beyond the state’s control. But in several instances, the speaker enters the same contingent realm when describing what will happen if his own governing body votes against him. According to the speaker, such a vote would be obviously wrong, and would so clearly break the logic of the situation that the vote could throw events off course by itself (see for example the extract at the head of the chapter, and compare the first Korinthian speech in Athens). Speakers take realities as results which are not contingent, i.e. the expected consequences of good practical choices. Therefore, contingent results are events that are inherently unpredictable, whether they are caused by nature, by other people, or by the speaker’s own people. 3 0 Perikles makes some relatively firm claims about the future in his speech: that the Spartans can build a fort in Attika and attack from it; that Athens can encourage helot revolts (1.142.2-3); that the Athenians can neither stop the Spartans marching against Attika, nor defend their land and homes in the country (1.143.4-5); and that Athens is R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 1 9 assembly (or governing body) has the ultimate decision, but on the whole he assumes that it agrees with him. Consequently, the warmonger suggests that if the assembly votes against him, it would be doing something grossly unnatural. He then argues that this wrong decision will throw events out of their natural order. According to the warmonger’s argument, the assembly’s vote will decide whether events follow his firm predictions, or whether they will take a contingent and disastrous course. In doing so. the warmonger places responsibility for the consequences onto the audience. Each speech contains a mixture of both contingencies and realities. By looking at all of these claims together we can assess the speaker’s general approach to the question of going to war.3 1 liable to make hamartiai (1.144.1). But Perikles makes other claims about disadvantages which could come about if Athens makes bad policy decisions: at 1.140.4-141.1 he spells out the disastrous consequences of making concessions to Sparta, especially on the Megarean issue. Perikles treats this disadvantage as contingent because Athens could prevent it by going to war. Warmongers recognize that contingent results are usually preventable. 3 1 The following tables are numbered #2 through #4; table #1 is in the first chapter. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 320 T able #2: Korinthians* third speech: o w OS DW DS ow os dw ds 1.120.1 1.120.1 (1.120.2) (1.120.2) 1.120.2 (1.120.3) (1.120.3) 1.120.3 1.120.3 1.120.4 1.120.4 (1.120.4) 1.120.4 1.120.5 1.120.5 (1.120.5) (1.120.5) 1.121.1 1.121.2 (1.121.2) 1.121.3 1.121.3 1.121.3 1.121.3 1.121.3 1.121.4 1.121.4 1.121.4 1.121.4 1.121.4 (1.121.5) 1.121.5 1.122.1 (1.122.1) 1.122.1 1.122.1 1.122.1 (1.122.2) 1.122.2 (1.122.3) (1.122.3) (1.122.3) 1.122.3 (1.122.4). (1.122.4) (1.122.4) 1.122.4 1.123.1. (1.123.1) 1.123.1. 1.123.1 1.123.1 1.123.2 1.123.2 1.124.1 (1.124.1) 1.124.1 1.124.1 (1.124.1) 1.124.1 1.124.2 (1.124.2) (1.124.2). 1.124.2 (1.124.2) (1.124.3) (1.124.3) 1.124.3 Kev to table headings: OW - Own state’s offensive weakness; OS - Own state’s offensive strength; DW - Own state’s defensive weakness; DS Own state’s defensive strength; ow Enemy’s offensive weakness; os Enemy’s offensive strength; dw Enemy’s defensive weakness; ds Enemy’s defensive strength. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 321 Table #3: P e rik le s’ first speech O W O S D W DS o w os dw ds 1.140.1 1.140.1 1.140.1 (1.140.2) 1.140.2 1.140.3 (1.140.4) (1.140.4) (1.140.5) (1.140.5) 1.140.5 (1.141.1) (1.141.1) 1.141.1 1.141.2 1.141.2 1.141.2 1.141.2 1.141.3 1.141.4 1.141.5 1.141.5 1.141.5 1.141.5 1.141.6 1.141.6 1.141.7 1.142.1 (1.142.2) 1.142.2 1.142.2 1.142.3 1.142.3 1.142.3 1.142.4 1.142.4 1.142.4 1.142.4 1.142.5 1.142.5 1.142.5 1.142.5 1.142.6 1.142.7 1.142.7 1.142.7 1.142.8 1.142.8 1.142.8 (1.142.S) 1.142.9 1.142.9 1.143.1 1.143.1 1.143.1 1.143.1 1.143.2 1.143.2 1.143.3 1.143.3 1.143.4 1.143.4 1.143.4 1.143.4 1.143.4 1.143.4 1.143.5 1.143.5 1.143.5 1.143.5 1.143.5 1.143.5 1.143.5 1.144.1 1.144.1 1.144.2 1.144.2 1.144.2 1.144.3 1.144.3 (1.144.3) (1.144.3) 1.144.4 1.144.4 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 322 T ab le #4: M v tilen ean s’ speech at O lym pia: OW OS D W DS ow os dw ds 3.9.1 (3.9.1) 3.9.1 (3.9.1) 3.9.1 3.9.2 (3.9.2) 3.9.2 3.9.2 (3-9.3) (3.9.3) 3.9.3 3.10.1 3.10.1 3.10.1 3.10.1 3.10.2 3.10.3 3.10.4 3.10.4 3.10.5 3.10.5 3.10.5 3.10.6 3.10.6 3.11.1 3.11.1 3.11.2 3.11.2 3.11.2 (3.11.2) 3.11.3 3.11.3 3.11.4 3.11.4 3.11.4 3.11.5 (3.11.5) 3.11.5 3.11.6 3.11.6 (3.11.7) 3.11.7 3.11.8 3.11.8 3.12.1 3.12.1 3.12.1 3.12.1 3.12.1 (3.12.2) 3.12.2 (3.12.2) 3.12.2 3.12.3 3.12.3 3.12.3 3.12.3 3.13.1 3.13.1 3.13.1 3.13.1 3.13.2 3.13.2 3.13.2 3.13.3 3.13.3 3.13.3 3.13.4 3.13.4 3.13.5 3.13.5 3.13.5 3.13.5 3.13.6 3.13.6 (3.13.6) 3.13.6 3.13.7 3.13.7 (3.14.1) (3.14.1) R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 323 These tables give a fairly complete account of the specific strategic cases made in these three speeches. By presenting them in this way, we can see each argument’s shape. We can also appreciate how rigorously the speakers focus on the question of war, and how they tackle the issue from several directions. There is not space to discuss every reference in these tables. So in the following discussion, I will investigate some of the major strands of argument. The discussion below concentrates on four topics in particular. I note first how each of these speakers calculates the opposition’s strengths and weakness as well as his own side’s. Second, I make clear how the speakers assess each strategic point as a calculation of advantage and disadvantage. In many instances they convert an enemy disadvantage into an advantage for themselves. Third, each speaker recognizes that their fighting strength relies to a large extent on non-material factors. A large part of their argument relies on psychological advantages, rather than on material factors such as hoplites, ships, money, and so on. Fourth, each speaker recognizes the importance of threats, and knows how to use them to advantage.'2 3 2 In the following discussion, I illustrate each point with examples from different speeches; with these examples, I include references to the section divisions of the text and to the categories mentioned in the tables. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 2 4 First of all, these tables bring out the way in which each speaker calculates the enemy’s strengths and weakness as well as his own. We might expect advocates of war to be well informed about their own side’s armaments, plans, and weak points. As Alkibiades says at 6.91.6, “Everyone knows his own terrors best.” But to a remarkable extent, these speakers are also aware of the enemy’s strengths and weaknesses. These factors cover both military preparations and potential strategies. I will start with enemy strengths. Perikles recognizes that the Spartans have superiority on land, and makes it clear that the Athenians must not challenge them when they attack, since the Spartans can always produce another army if they lose one battle. He also mentions their ability to build a fort in Attika. Consequently, he recommends that the best defense would be to concede Attika and let them come up against the walls of Athens ( 1.141.5: os; 1.143.4-5: OW, os, ds; 1.142.4-5: os; 1.143.5: DS, ow). The Korinthians are well aware of the Athenians’ naval superiority.3 3 They observe how Athenian sea power enables them to make inroads into landlocked areas. They recognize that Athens’ wealth is critical to producing a dominant navy, and they recognize that Athenian naval episteme is currently superior to their own. Indeed, the Athenians are so strong that it is necessary 3 3 The narrative of the battle of Naupaktos 2.85-93 indicates that the Korinthians are overconfident about their ability to overcome their own naval limitations: see chapter one. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 2 5 for all of the Peloponnesian allies to fight together (T.120.2: (DS), os; 1.121.3-4: OS, os; 1.122.2: (DS), os). The Mytileneans also describe the way in which the Athenians have used naval power to tighten their grip on the allies. The Athenians only started subjecting allies some time after the Persian War, and consequently the Mytileneans had been allies for some time before they noticed suspicious developments. Athens started using stronger allies against weaker ones, which made the Mytileneans dig themselves ever more deeply into an unfriendly alliance. The Mytileneans also show how Athens’ naval power enables Athens to control allies by threatening action; this enables it to escape any harm from actual conflict, and to avoid condemnation for harming its allies (3.10.4: DW, os; 3.11.3-4: DW, os; 3.12.2-3: (OW), os). The warmongers are well aware of the enemy’s strengths. They do not think these enemy strengths will defeat them, but they realize that any plan for war will have to recognize those strengths. All three speakers also notice enemy weaknesses. They see how to exploit enemy weaknesses, especially defensive ones. This perception however does not lead the speakers to predict victory. They concentrate merely on their ability to harm the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 2 6 enemy. That is, warmongers realize that the war will be a hard struggle. While these advantages are not necessarily decisive, they give the speaker a reasonable expectation that he will have an overall advantage in the war. The Korinthians claim that the Athenians are vulnerable to fortifications in Attika. Moreover, the Korinthians can use their navy to stir revolts among the Athenian allies. They propose to attract sailors from the Athenian navy with higher pay (1.122.1: OS, dw; 1.121.3: OS, dw). Perikles realizes that the Athenians can establish forts against the Spartans in response to Spartan invasions of Attika. He recognizes that Sparta is much more dependent on its land than * the Athenians are on Attika itself; if they lose their land, they will have to fight for more (1.142.3: OS. ow, dw; 1.143.4: OS, DS, dw). The Mytileneans recognize that this is the best chance for the Peloponnesians to weaken Athens. The plague has seriously reduced the Athenian fighting strength. In war, the Athenians fear the Mytileneans, because they could get away cleanly to an Athenian enemy. The Mytileneans know where Athens’ weakness (as well as its source of strength) lies. They tell the Spartans that the war will be fought in the islands, not in Attika. The Mytileneans can use their large navy to start prying allies away from Athens, and to deprive Athens of money (3.13.3: OS, ow, dw. 3.12.1: OS, dw; 3.13.5-7: OS, dw). The arguments in the last two paragraphs demonstrate that warmongers do not simply list points in their favor or in the enemy’s R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 2 7 favor. They link each claim to an argument about potential achievement. These potential achievements are relatively modest. They do not think these advantages and disadvantages will win or lose the war by themselves. But they make up a vital part of a state’s war effort. Second, each speaker recognizes the way enemy weaknesses depend upon his own side’s strengths, and the way his own side’s strengths depend upon enemy weaknesses. In other words, they realize that advantages do not exist in isolation. Advantages must be understood in terms of the enemy’s military resources. In the tables above, I have not interpreted every single weakness of the speaker’s own side as a corresponding enemy strength, but I have done so when the speakers make this association clear. At the beginning of his speech, Perikles explicitly mentions the relationship between enemy strengths and Athenian weaknesses. He claims that every little concession the Athenians make will be construed as a weakness, and will turn into a source of strength for the enemy. Moreover, he recognizes that the Athenians will do most harm by sea, and that the Spartans will do most harm by land: if the Spartans construct a fort in Attika, the Athenians will attack the Peloponnese, and will be able to inflict more harm on Sparta than Athens will suffer. Moreover, Perikles claims that R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 2 8 these naval attacks will themselves deter the Spartans from practicing naval technique, and make them unwilling to fight at sea (1.140.5: (DW), os; 1.142.4-5: OS, DW, os, dw; 1.142.7: OS. ow). The Korinthians recognize, like Perikles, that making concessions will be construed as a weakness. In their words, hesychia or raistdne is not a viable response to the Athenians. Any concessions made by the Peloponnesians will advertise Athenian strength. States who give up territories fall victim to the three worst failings: stupidity, weakness and apathy. The Korinthians believe in planning, but they maintain that the success of a plan depends on the quality of opposition rather than its intrinsic qualities.3 4 When they discuss the nuts and bolts of the coming war, they construe the mercenaries in the Athenian navy as a potential weakness, and consider their own manpower a potential relative strength for themselves ( 1.120.3: (OW, DW os); 1.122.3-4: (DW, DS, ow, os); 1.120.5: (OW, OS, ow, os); 1.121.3: OS, ow). The Mytileneans also recognize the intimate relationship between their own weaknesses and 3 4 We may compare this claim to that of Artabanos in Herodotos 7.105, who claims that a bad plan is a bad plan even if it succeeds by chance. Edmunds 1975:18-20 contrasts these two passages, but I am not sure to what extent they reflect different outlooks. Both speakers acknowledge that good plans may be defeated by chance: the Korinthians maintain that quality does not guarantee success, while Artabanos maintains that quality is quality irrespective of success. It appears that the two speakers place a different value on the objective quality of the speech, but they do not necessarily have different attitudes about the utility of reasoning. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 2 9 enemy strengths. Echoing the second Korinthian speech (1.69.2), they criticize the Spartans for failing to finish the job of freeing Greece after the Persian Wars. The Athenians took only what the Spartans conceded to them. The Mytileneans recognize that the Athenian alliance is starting to look like the old Persian empire. The Athenians have managed to subjugate the smaller states, which they can attack without help, and thereby reduce the number of states who could defect from the alliance. Mytilene has fewer autonomous allies as a result; the Athenians have made its position more exposed, and have made its defection more difficult 13.10.2: DW, os; 3.11.4-5: DW, DS, (ow), os; 3.11.1: DW, os). While all three speakers treat resources as reasons to go to war, they do not examine their own resources in isolation. They realize that their own advantages and disadvantages can only be understood relative to the enemy’s. I noted in the second chapter that Brasidas and certain other figures in Thucydides have the ability to see the enemy’s position and planning. They are able to do this in the circumstances of a single battle. These warmongers, however, are anticipating many potential conflicts. In this sense, they have a more general outlook than the commander with psychological expertise. All three of these speakers display considerable intelligence. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 3 0 My third observation is that the arguments do not rest entirely on material preparations, such as men, hoplites, ships, and money. The speakers recognize that certain non-material factors will play a large role in the coming war. These non-material factors do not just include potential strategies, which I discussed under the first point. It is also crucial to recognize that each speaker bases his arguments on human qualities and motivations, which influence people’s fighting effectiveness. These human qualities give certain psychological advantages, and, to an extent, override simple material preparations. The Korinthians believe that it is necessary to fight with courage and conviction. Moreover, their innate mental toughness will give them an advantage once they have matched the Athenians in skill; the Peloponnesians, they claim, have a tradition of making gains through toil (1.120.3: (OS, OW, DS, DW); 1.121.4: OS, DS, ow; 1.123.1: OS, DS). Most of all, however, the Korinthians feel the conviction that they are in the right. Since other states see the harm the Athenians do, they will be likely to join the Peloponnesians (1.120.3: OS; 121.1: OS; 123.3: OS; 1.124.1: OS, ow).3 5 Perikles disputes the Spartans’ views about their own superior courage. Perikles proposes that poverty will impose limitations on their motivation and courage in the 3 5 Rhodes 1987 argues that Thucydides recognizes the importance of appearing to be in the right, and that he has structured the first book so as to suggest that the Athenians were in the right. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 3 1 field, and that conscious inferiority in naval warfare will deter them from attempting a large battle at sea; the Athenians have extensive naval experience, and know they are superior (1.141.5: ow; 1.142.8: ow; 1.142.5.7: OS). The Mytileneans describe the way states use claims of right in foreign relations. They argue that their revolt from Athens does not make them bad or suspect allies. They later show how the Athenians used the Mytileneans’ voluntary participation as a demonstration that they were right in punishing allies. Besides exposing the evil nature of the Athenian empire, the Mytileneans are also suggesting that the empire is actually weaker than it seems (3.9.1- 2i (DS, OS); 3.11.4: os; 3.11.6: OS; 3.13.1: OS). These arguments emphasize the practical value of human qualities and motivations. The speakers do not just specify material advantages such as men and ships; they also recognize psychological advantages such as knowledge of superiority and the knowledge that one is in the right. These psychological advantages become particularly powerful when other states recognize them. Warmongers do not use claims of justification in isolation either. Instead, they show how this justification creates promises of support from potential allies. Warmongers demonstrate the practical advantages of being in the right. All of the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 332 speakers claim that knowledge of right and knowledge of superiority confer important psychological advantages. These speeches concentrate on one psychological factor in particular. All three speakers argue at length that unity of purpose is critical to success in war. They consider disunity a weakness, and consider unity a source of strength. Perikles demonstrates that the Peloponnesians lack unity on two levels (1.141.6-7: ow). On the large scale, the whole Peloponnesian league is composed of states with different agendas, and therefore as a body it cannot act decisively. On the small scale, Sparta itself is composed of individual farmers who are tied to their land, since they cannot be supported by the state (1.141.4. 7: ow). As a result the army cannot venture on long expeditions, and cannot devote its full attention to achieving Sparta’s goals.3 6 The Korinthians emphasize reasons for unity, and the need for unity, at various points in their speech. They praise 3 6 In this passage Perikles describes the way each individual Spartan neglects the interest of the whole state (1.141.7). Many scholars have noted that these words resemble Perikles’ warning to the Athenians in his last speech (2.60.2-3). In the latter passage, he criticizes the Athenians forjudging the situation only in terms of their own personal interests, and urges them to look at the interests of Athens as a whole. I will show in section three that Perikles does not mean to deny individual interests and rights, but that he means to redefine them in terms of the city as a whole. Cf. Homblower 1987:125, 179. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. the Spartans for pledging support to the Peloponnesian allies, thereby offering leadership; they also warn that the Peloponnesian allies must have a single puipose just because Athens is so strong. On balance, they believe this unity and strength will be easy to achieve, because each city has a stake in the war. As the Korinthians say, “Identity of interest is the surest of bonds, for cities and for individuals” ('1.120.1-2: DS; 1.122.2-3: os. (DS); 1.124.1: OS, DS). The Mytileneans use similar arguments, especially when they describe the nature and origin of Athenian power. The individual voting system within the Athenian alliance has prevented the allies from taking concerted action; the Athenians maintain their empire by pitting one ally against another; an alliance can instead be mutually beneficial if the partners have goodwill towards each other and have similar practices (homoiotropoi einai) (3.10.5: DW; 3.11.4-5: DW, os; 3.10.1: OS, DS). The three speakers make similar assumptions and predictions about the coming conflict. A state or alliance must act with a common purpose to be effective. In particular, states cannot execute their plans well, and cannot react well to changing circumstances, when various members have different reasons for fighting and different ideas about how to fight. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 3 4 Fourth, each speaker recognizes the role of threat. The threat of force can play as large a role as actual conflict in determining relations between antagonistic states. Blainey argues that states go to war when they disagree over their relative power, and that they seek peace when they agree on their relative power.3 7 States recognize that they can often get what they want by threatening action. They would naturally prefer to make gains by negotiation. As Blainey observes, discussions fail when neither side can get the other to recognize how far they will go to acquire what they want. If even one side recognizes the other’s threats as realistic, it will usually negotiate terms to avoid open conflict. Perikles illustrates these observations in his first speech. He is keenly aware of the role threat plays in negotiations. He warns the Athenians to refuse the Spartan demands, because a small concession, like revoking the Megarean decree, will result in greater demands. He sees this round of negotiations as a test of will. If the Athenians yield, they will acknowledge their inferiority to Sparta; if they refuse, they will show they must be treated as equals ( 1.140.4-5: DW; 1.141.1: DW, DS). The 3 7 Blainey 1973:118. As he points out, however, often the only way for two states to find out their relative power is by fighting a war. In a round of diplomacy, then, the two states have a contradictory sense of their own bargaining power, and they will try to arrive at a settlement which will satisfy each side’s idea about what it could gain by force (ibid. 114). Blainey quotes the words of Simmel: “The most effective way of preventing a war is for two nations to possess exact knowledge of their comparative strength” (ibid. 118). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Mytileneans just as convincingly describe the role threats play within an antagonistic alliance. They say, “Mutual fear is the surest guarantee in an alliance,” indicating that hostile allies will treat each other badly if they think their ally cannot hurt them. The Mytileneans fear Athens in peace, and the Athenians fear Mytilene in war. They mean by this that in war, Athens has to pay attention elsewhere, anci the Mytileneans can side with an Athenian enemy. But in peace, Athens is free to focus its full power on a single operation. The Mytileneans also show how the Athenians use threats to control allies. The Athenians are constantly threatening to attack and subject the Mytileneans; however, they are careful not to attack openly. If the Mytileneans are subjected, they will lose their navy and their power. The Mytileneans are forced to attack first; and then in the eyes of Greece, they seem to be rebelling against a good hegemon. (3.11.2: DW, DS, ow, os; 3.12.1: OS, DW, DS, os; 3.12.3: DW, DS, os). The Korinthians, like the Mytileneans, draw a picture of Athens gradually widening its rule within Greece. Athens is gradually encroaching from the sea into the interior of Greece, and it must be opposed. Like Perikles, the Korinthians recognize that at this stage of negotiation, neither side will recognize the other’s demands. Only war will establish decisively what each side can demand from the other; consequently, war is the only way to achieve R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. peace ( 1.120.2-3: os, DS; 1.122.3: os; 1.124.2: OS, (DW, DS), os). Each of these speeches illustrates the way threat governs relations between states. The speakers draw an explicit connection between threats and force. Frederick the Great said, “Diplomacy without force is like music without instruments.”3 8 All three of these speakers anticipate that sentiment. These warmongers’ speeches each encapsulate that moment when a state decides to move into war from what is, at least formally, a state of peace. They recognize that their current position is unacceptable because they are no longer able to threaten the enemy. They argue that the enemy does not respect their strength. These warmongers are confident that they have sufficient military resources to force a better situation for themselves than they currently enjoy. In each case, the speaker argues that his state must go to war because the enemy does not recognize its opponent’s true military power. Warmongers’ speeches tend to exhibit a certain tension, and it can be found in all three of these speeches. This inconsistency concerns the speaker’s own knowledge of the current situation and his ideas about the enemy’s knowledge. In the discussion above, this tension emerges if we compare the first point with the fourth. On the one 3 8 Quoted from Blainey 1973:108. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 3 7 hand, the speaker wants to persuade the audience that he is perfectly familiar with the enemy’s military capability and intentions. When he makes this claim, the warmonger makes the assumption that each side’s aims and strategies are generally speaking well known. Blainey 1973 looks at decisions for war from this perspective. On the other hand, however, the warmonger must claim that the enemy does not fully recognize his own state’s military power. If the warmonger argues that his state is likely to win the war, he must argue that the state possesses some military capability, and has some strategic plans, which go beyond anything the enemy knows. Yet, as I have said, he also maintains that he has complete knowledge of the enemy. This tension would not be problematic if the warmonger on one side were actually right— if he really does have complete knowledge of the enemy, and if he does have strategies and preparations which are unknown to the enemy. However, one of Blainey’s most important insights is that when two sides go to war against each other, representatives of both sides make the claim that they know the enemy fully, and that the enemy does not know them. As he argues, there can be no war unless representatives on the opposing sides can both make a convincing case that they will win that war. But speakers do not have to be convinced by that case themselves. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 3 8 I have been arguing in this study that Thucydides expects each speaker to uphold the interests of his state. In this chapter, I maintain that he also expects speakers to make the best case possible for a particular point of view. The inherent tension in warmongers’ speeches demonstrates a point which is also true, but perhaps less apparent, in other Thucydidean speeches. Thucydides does not consider any speech an honest and objective analysis of the situation. Perikles comes the closest, as I show in section three. However, Perikles’ arguments are sound and accurate because they uphold the interests of Athens. Perikles simply fulfils his function better than any other speaker. This section however concerns short term analysis. On this level, there seems to be very little to choose in quality of analysis between Perikles, the Mytileneans, and the Korinthians. The tables show how each speaker engages in short term analysis. The references point to the speaker’s descriptions of the nuts and bolts of war. Specifically, the tables track the way he presents material preparations and potential strategies. I have called these arguments “achievability arguments” because speakers use them to link present factors with potential achievement in the future. In the next section, I argue that R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 339 the warmongers generally recognize two standards of achievement: modest and certain achievements on the one hand, ambitious and possible achievements on the other. Achievability arguments fall into the former category, while goals fall into the latter. The tables which I have presented above reflect this distinction in another way too. The warmongers entertain somewhat inconsistent ideas about how the various predictions in his speech can be satisfied. As Blainey shows, two states on the point of war necessarily disagree on what they believe their own power can ultimately achieve (1973:115-9). But when a state goes to war, it cannot measure a war effort just by this ultimate aim. Political leaders, when describing the progress of war, must present the individual actions in the war as successes in themselves. Otherwise, day-to-day achievements might seem trivial compared with the stated war aims. Warmongers, then, present two different standards of achievement, a day-to-day standard and a more global standard. These two standards reflect the same distinction as achievability and goals. And within each warmonger’s speech, this same distinction also underlies the speaker’s claims about what constitutes a satisfactory overall argument, and what constitutes a satisfactory specific argument. Each of the references in the tables represents a particular claim about military capability. The speaker is satisfied with each of these claims, and he hopes to convey that conviction to the audience. But the speaker R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 0 presenting a case for war must also have an overall optimism about his state’s prospects in the war, even though he has no firm evidence that the state will win, and that its goals will be achieved. We can see these two standards operating in the structuring segments of warmongers’ speeches (e.g. 1.141.2, 1.121.2). When Perikles and the Korinthians say they will describe enemy weaknesses and their own strengths, the detailed discussion which follows invokes the day-to-day standard of proof, while their overall argument invokes a vaguer and more global standard of proof. These observations help us understand the typical shape of a case for war in Thucydides. Earlier in this section, I identified four necessary components of a case for war. Those four components were as follows: articulation of war aims, belief that those aims can only be achieved by war, justification of the war effort, and confidence in one’s military capability. The discussion above concerns the second and fourth of these components in particular. I discuss war aims in detail in the next three sections of the chapter. The third component, the element of justification, has been much discussed in recent scholarship.3 9 The difficulty with most of these discussions is that they do not go 3 9 Studies such as Macleod 1983, Connor 1984, Orwin 1994, and Crane 1998 discuss the role arguments from justice play in Thucydidean speeches. Justification forms a very important part of a case for war. However, this topic is tangential to my own Reproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 1 far enough. More or less every single statement in these speeches can be linked to a justificatory claim. It is psychologically necessary for a warmonger to argue that his state is in the right.4 0 In this discussion, however, I focus more on practical consequences than ethical considerations.4 1 The Periklean and Korinthian speeches show that both sides in a coming conflict can produce solid practical arguments about known factors, and that they can build them up into a case for war. The strength of one case does not necessarily indicate the weakness of the other. The Mytilenean case exhibits the same features as the other warmongers’ speeches. The speeches are not objective, nor does Thucydides expect them to be. Scholars such as Cogan and Crane focus on the way speakers interpret ethical factors according to their own interests; immediate project. When I discuss Perikles’ speeches, I will show how he associates ethical claims with Athens’ ultimate goals. 4 0 Rhodes 1987 explores this idea in an excellent discussion of Thucydides’ analysis of Athenian motives at the start of the war. 4 1 In my discussion of the tables, I noted that ethical factors have certain practical implications. Perikles argues that the decision to go to war is essential to Athenian time (1.144.4; OS (OW)), and the Korinthians claim that going to war when necessary is the sign of the aner agathos (1.120.3; OS, DS). The Mytileneans, like other warmongers, describe the enemy as evil. They believe that other states will offer support as a result. They allude to Sparta’s self-description as liberator of Hellas (3.13.1-2). This claim, Thucydides tells us, caused most Greek states to favor Sparta at the beginning of the war (2.8). Brasidas is the first Spartan who puts this claim into action (4.85.1). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 2 these tables show how they twist practical considerations too. The speakers have clear biases, and they show how to interpret the current situation according to those biases. To conclude this section, I show how the speakers’ specific points relate to the second and fourth questions: the contention that war is necessary, and the contention that their military power is sufficient. These three speeches all demonstrate the warmonger’s characteristic thesis that the state’s aims can only be achieved through war. All three speakers argue that the situation has reached a crisis point. In each case, the speaker knows that negotiations will do no good, because the enemy will not accept his demands, just as he will not accept the enemy’s demands. He knows the only way to settle the dispute is by war. Perikles sees it as his duty in the first speech to show the audience that war is necessary and inevitable: eidenai de chre hoti anagke polemein (1.144.3). This comment is clearly a key claim within the speech. Perikles uses it to tie up the large body of technical military discussion, and to orient the speech towards ends rather than means. Both at the beginning and at the end of the speech, Perikles sets the current decision in the context of Athens’ ultimate ambitions. At 1.140.3-5, Perikles argues that Athens, being the hegemon of a great empire, must not display weaknesses. A single concession, like R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 3 repealing the Megarean decree— though trivial (to brachu: 1.140.5)— will place Athens in a position of inferiority, and will inevitably lead to greater demands from Sparta.4 2 Perikles argues that the Athens must show the Spartans that it is equal to Sparta, and that Athens can only do this by war. The Korinthians, just like Perikles, claim that war is necessary (nomisantes es anagken aphichihai: 1.124.2). They too acknowledge that peace is generally speaking preferable to war (1.120.3, cf. 2.61.1). But in these circumstances, they argue, a true and lasting peace can only be achieved through war (1.124.2).4 3 The Korinthians and the Mytileneans both argue that Athens is swallowing up the Greek states one by one (1.120.2-3, 3.11-12). Since the Athenians are getting stronger, they must go to war immediately (1.120.1, 3.13.2-3).4 4 Each of these three speakers, then, wishes his state to enjoy prosperity and freedom without interference from the enemy. The warmonger tends to emphasize his state’s defensive purpose in the 4 2 In the tables, I have listed Perikles’ alternative scenarios as contingencies under the headings DW, DS. 4 3 Both the Korinthians and Perikles characterize pacifism as an idle and dangerous fantasy, if the circumstances point clearly towards war (1.120.2, 124.2; cf. 1.141.1, 2.63.2). 4 4 All warmongers in Thucydides, with one exception, argue in favor of going to war immediately. Archidamos recommends that if Athens will not yield after two or three years, the Spartans should then attack Attika (1.82.2). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 4 war. But in each speech, we can detect both aggressive and defensive purposes. The defensive war aim, i.e. to hold off the enemy’s expansion, is really just the flipside of the aggressive war aim: to defeat the enemy and enjoy unhindered prosperity. These three speeches reveal the dual nature of war aims. All three speakers recognize that war is inevitable because the enemy’s aims are incompatible with their own, and because neither side is prepared to yield. The three speeches also show how warmongers characteristically express confidence in their state’s military power. Each of these three speakers produces a detailed discussion of various factors, which he believes will influence the war. In terms of logistical planning, these speakers are very similar. Each recognizes the difference between a day-to-day standard of achievement and a more global standard of achievement. The same distinction can be seen in the way they discuss the notion of equality. Each of the three speakers invokes a notion of equality, and uses it in a particular way in his speech. Using the day-to-day standard, the speaker argues that he has many specific overall advantages, and that the advantages of going to war outweigh the disadvantages. But in terms of the ultimate or more global standard of military capability, the speaker may admit that his state is merely equal to the enemy. Perikles, R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 5 for example, insists that Athens should be treated as Sparta’s equal (1.140.4-5). He is not denying all of the specific advantages Athens holds, which he is about to lay out. He means that within Greece, Athens belongs in the same “superpower” category as Sparta. Perikles recognizes that Sparta cannot be conquered tomorrow, despite all of those military advantages. Perikles uses the concept of equality in presenting his overall argument, using the global standard of achievement. But Athenian cases for war are different from all others in one crucial respect. As Perikles demonstrates, Athens possesses all the necessary resources itself, and merely has to maintain its empire. All other states need to secure alliances to go to war. For that reason, all speeches for war except Perikles’ involve a quest for alliance. Athens’ choice of war is broadly speaking its decision, rather than a multilateral decision. The Korinthian and Mytilenean speeches demonstrate the difficulty of persuading other states to join a war effort. In these speeches, the speaker needs to consider combined forces to argue that his side is at least equal to the enemy.- 1 5 The 4 5 However, as Perikles argues, alliances also sacrifice unity of purpose (1.141.6). Perikles sees Athens’ unity as an advantage. He argues that the Athenian assembly, as a single body, bears sole responsibility for Athens’ decisions. The citizens are not answerable to other people; individuals are answerable to them (1.140.1, 2.60.4-7, 2.61.2, 2.63.1, 2.64.1; cf. 2.65.8). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 6 tables for these speeches present advantages for the combined forces as one’s own strength. The Korinthians maintain that the Peloponnesian states together are equal to Athens (1.122.2). And using the same more global standard, and assuming support from their audience, the Mytileneans also argue that they are equal to Athens. At the outset of the speech, they concede that they are not equal to Athens in respect of paraskeite (3.9.2). As the speech progresses, however, they show how their forces will be strong enough for the type of conflict they anticipate, i.e. a siege.4 6 This speech, then, presents a contrast between objective assessments and applied assessments of military strength. The Mytileneans include Spartan support in their logistical calculations. They also argue that they can achieve equality with Athens in other ways, especially in a psychological sense.4 7 These assessments of potential achievement in the coming war 4 6 The Mytileneans recognize that it is much easier to defend one’s own territory than to attack foreign territory. Hanson 1991:253-6 expresses this idea with the term “home court advantage,” though he uses it exclusively of hoplite warfare. The term could also apply to conflicts involving naval forces: Perikles uses a similar idea at 2.39.2. The difference between attacking and defending is especially great when the campaign involves a siege. The Mytileneans are confident that they could survive a siege from Athens, if they receive help from Sparta. 4 7 “But since the opportunity for action is always in their hands, we ought likewise to have the initiative in resistance” (3.12.3, tr. Crawley). On the face of it, this claim seems paradoxical. The Mytileneans argue that they need to “retaliate” to attacks before those attacks have actually occurred. These words make sense, however, if we set them in the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 7 are not overoptimistic. The speakers do not claim that they are decisively stronger than the enemy; nor do they claim that they will win the war easily and quickly. Each speaker argues in his own way that, according to the global standard of comparison, he will be equal to the enemy. It is important to stress these speeches’ overall consistency and quality, because scholars have often tended to underrate the non-Periklean speeches for war. Macleod, indeed, sees the third Korinthian speech as the product of orge.i & That is to say, the Korinthians exhibit irrational optimism about the war, mainly because they are unaware of Athens’ true strength. Both Gomme and Macleod also see contradictions in the context of a discussion about the power relations between Athens and Mytilene. Athens currently has supremacy in threat and initiative, the Mytileneans claim. Since Athens has not done any naked act of aggression against Mytilene, Mytilene has no objective grounds for revolt. But once Athens has attacked Mytilene, it will be too late. However. Athens is deliberately imposing a constant threat of attack. The Mytileneans use this psychological pressure as justification for a revolt. This psychological view also enables them to argue that Athens fears Mytilene: when Athens is at war, Mytilene can more easily ally with Athenian enemies (3.12.1). Employing these psychological standards, the Mytileneans claim equality in terms of threat and initiative (isou . . . homoiou 3.12.2). 4 8 Macleod 1983:124 comments on the words ho . . . orgistheis . . . ptaiei (1.122.1): ‘T he historian uses their rhetorical sententiae to expose their own rashness.” In Macleod’s view, the war itself causes people to act irrationally. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 S Mytilenean speech.4 9 But my comparison of the three speeches seems to me to work against this view. If we recognize the essential components of each case they appear to be remarkably similar in intellectual approach and quality. The Mytileneans’ argument about equality, for example, becomes clear when we recognize that they qualify this judgment according to the enemy and type of conflict. Each speaker is careful to set individual claims about future achievement within a realistic context. This context is set by his best assessment of the way the war will be fought, and of the enemy’s particular strengths and weaknesses. This is not to say that the assessments are objective. The speakers aim to produce forceful arguments based on reality, although those arguments also serve their own purposes. The function of the warmonger’s speech is to persuade a state to go to war. According to the day-to-day standard of achievement, and according 4 9 See Gomme H C T2:263 and Macleod 1977:66. Macleod sums up the Mytilenean speech with these words: “In short, Thucydides deliberately presents the speakers getting entangled in their arguments. The main cause of this entanglement is that, like Cleon later on, they try to maintain that their action is both just and expedient.” Macleod sees two main contradictions {ibid. 65-66). Following Gomme, he applies statements about their relations with Athens to the projected alliance with Sparta. A statement like “alliance depends on mutual fear” (3.11.2), for example, would not fall easily on Spartan ears. I suggested above that the Mytileneans are referring only to their Athenian alliances, or at most, only to hostile alliances. Second, Macleod finds that the Mytileneans’ statement about Athenian weakness (3.13.3-7) conflicts with their reasons for revolt: “It weakens their justification for rebelling by contradicting the supposition that their power is unequal to Athens’.” R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 4 9 to the point-to-point standard of proof, these speeches serve that function well. Each of the three speeches emerges as the product of remarkably powerful rationality. The discussion above demonstrates that each speech has a similar analytic structure. All three speakers analyze the current situation in a recognizable fashion. They observe a variety of different factors, and use them to derive possible outcomes. They calculate their own power relative to the enemy, and relative to the anticipated type of conflict. They identify both sides’ strengths and weaknesses, and identify objectives appropriate to their relative military strength. They can also see what the enemy’s objectives are, and how the enemy will pursue them. By viewing the current situation against each side’s declared objectives, they can see when it is necessary to move from threats to war. To a certain extent, then, the speakers can both read the enemy’s thoughts and make sound predictions about future achievement. Such qualities are signs of intelligence in Thucydides. All in all, these three speeches are deeply serious and rational cases for war. Since each of these speeches uses identifiable categories of analysis, and since each gives a coherent and convincing case on its own terms, we can claim that they each fulfill standards of quality. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 0 Part Two: What is Conceivable and What is Achievable I demonstrated in the previous section that warmongers argue that their present state of military strength allows them to achieve specific results. I call those claims “achievability arguments.” But arguments for war have another major component: the articulation of goals. These goals correspond to a state’s ultimate aims in war. By definition, these goals are far off, and the warmongers acknowledge that the state must do a whole series of actions in order to achieve them. In order to achieve that final victory, a state must for instance equip itself properly, go to war, construct a strategy, implement that strategy, maintain morale among army and people, adjust to circumstances, and execute a final victory. These intervening steps make arguments about goals much more delicate than arguments about specific tactics and actions. As I showed in the first chapter, analyses by characters on the point of battle tend to have two foci: on the present and on the future. In arguments by warmongers, achievability arguments correspond to that present focus, and arguments about goals correspond to the future focus. The raw data that the warmongers present, then, serve two quite separate arguments. Warmongers present some conclusions as realistic and achievable given the present situation, while they direct some of their arguments towards what is desirable but only potential at the time of speaking. In this section I investigate the ways R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 1 in which a number of warmongers distinguish immediate achievability and long term goals. The tables in part one represent short term logistical analyses in three warmongers’ speeches. I argued that the speaker representing each state does in fact produce a sound, rigorous assessment of military resources. I showed that the speech seems to incorporate two ways of judging the data, a day-to-day standard and a more global standard. Warmongers must make certain assumptions about the applicability of their arguments. They analyze their military resources in terms of the enemy’s strength and the anticipated type of conflict. I have mentioned the way the Mytileneans use a particular notion of equality to argue that their military resources are sufficient to defend the city in a siege, and to fend off the Athenian navy. The Mytileneans construe the term in relation to the type of engagement they will fight. Later in the work, Thucydides describes the Chians’ organization of foreign affairs with the term esio asphalesteron (8.24.3). The Chians decide to revolt from Athens after the Sicilian expedition, during a wave of revolts by other states. This revolt counts as asphalesteron because Athens is no longer as powerful as it was, and is currently stretched beyond its means. Thucydides praises the Chians for their sound and reasonable judgment, even R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 2 though their revolt eventually ends in failure. Judgments about equality and military capability require rigorous rational analysis. But sound future analysis clearly does not come just from looking at the data. Long term assessments require experience and expertise as well as logical ability. But I have shown that characters build up their analysis according to their own purposes. They define future achievement in terms of their own goals. The most successful warmongers also define goals in terms of what they think they can achieve. Warmongers articulate goals clearly, and they expect the state to pursue those same goals throughout the course of the whole war. Arguments for war are especially useful for studying the characters’ intellectual approach to the future, because they show how long term future considerations set a framework for the analysis of present circumstances. In this section I focus on connections and divisions between the present and the future. As I will show, warmongers reject certain arguments that do not seem to account satisfactorily for the difficulty of predicting future events. The prospect of war confronts the speaker with practical questions. He must define them in such a way as to satisfy the audience’s sense of reality, and at the same time to fit his own state’s goals. He may define war aims positively, to acquire something for his own side, or negatively, to prevent the enemy from acquiring certain R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 3 things for itself. Many times the positive and the negative arguments boil down to the same thing. Thucydides is particularly interested in recovering and presenting the thinking which lies behind large scale historical events. I show below that he ensures that the participants set out their war aims clearly.5 0 Indeed, we might say that the war itself provides states and their representatives the opportunity to set out clearly their long term goals. If war is the most serious action a state can undertake, we can expect that the reasons for going to war should be connected to the state’s most serious concerns, such as its own survival and sense of identity. In a fundamental sense, each 5 0 Scholars have not always recognized the expression of war aims in speeches for war. Partly, this is the result of a failure to distinguish between the warmonger’s strategy during the war, and the ultimate purposes for which the war is being fought. For example, Cogan denies that Perikles expresses war aims in any of his speeches: What we must recognize in Perikles’ speech, and what is most peculiar and revelatory of Athens’ orientation at the beginning of the war, is that Perikles has proposed no war aims. . . . As far as this Thucydidean Pericles is concerned, the totality of Athenian intentions at the beginning of the war was to be mere endurance. Cogan 1981:37 Cogan is here describing Perikles’ strategy for the war, which in his opinion is overwhelmingly defensive. But when discussing a later speech by Perikles, Cogan does acknowledge that Perikles has an ultimate aim in the war (ibid. 76): to make Sparta admit the impossibility of defeating Athens. This last point is absolutely correct. However, Cogan does not stress its importance, and crucially fails to recognize how this idea underlies all of Perikles’ speeches. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 4 warmonger uses a goal oriented method for assessing critical situations. In this section I show how difficult this method is. In part four of chapter two I discussed Thucydides’ use of the metaphor of vision to express knowledge or intellectual penetration.5 1 All characters, even the most ordinary ones, can predict coming events in certain circumstances. The metaphor of vision represents intellectual penetration on various levels. It is not surprising, then, that warmongers should make use of the same metaphor to analyze future events. Naturally, they talk about the future more than most characters. They often refer to future events as either “visible” or “invisible”: phaneros or aphanes. If they call a future event “visible,” they must be able to establish a firm intellectual link between that event and the present circumstances. The examples below show how intelligent characters have a consistent rationale for assigning future events to the categories of the visible and invisible. Like all other characters, the speakers who advocate war admit that the future is essentially unknowable: they frequently mention the power of tyche, to para logon, or the uncontrollable nature of the course of events. Nevertheless, they remain confident that 5 1 The fullest discussion of this topic occurs in Huart 1968, especially in his of the words horan, aisthanesthai, and phainesthai. For example, Thucydides uses ho ran to express Brasidas’ understanding of Kleon’s plans in 5.7.1. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. many particular consequences are indeed knowable. Warmongers speak of future events as knowable or visible when they can establish a solid argument that those consequences will follow, and that no other factors will take events in another direction. That is to say, future events are visible if they are not contingent upon prior events. Using several passages from warmongers’ speeches, I will demonstrate how intelligent speakers use contingency to distinguish the visible from the invisible. One very important reference to the notion of invisibility occurs in Thucydides’ own voice, as he describes the genius of Themistokles (1.138.3). Thucydides claims that Themistokles was the best at identifying good or bad consequences in to aphanes. i.e. the future.5 2 This passage obviously demonstrates that intelligent characters are able to predict things in the future which others cannot. But it is significant in another way. By 5 2 The adjective aphanes simply means “invisible.” It is not always used of future events, of course. There are other reasons why an object or idea might be out of sight. However, when characters use the neuter substantive to aphanes (literally, “that which is out of sight”), they usually mean “the future.” Both Thucydides and his characters use the neuter substantive to refer to the future: 2.42.2, 4.63.1, 5.103.2, 5.113.1, 6.9.3, 8.92.11. The phrase en toi aphanei, implying a region or a category, refers exclusively to the future: 1.138.3, 1.42.2,1.15A. Similarly, the term phaneros may be used specifically to refer to the visibility of future events: 1.42.2, 1.42.4, 1.69.2, 1.102.3, 4.68.6,5.103.2. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 6 using the term to aphanes Thucydides adopts the point of view of ordinary characters: the events Themistokles could predict are obviously not future or “invisible” to the historian, but only to other characters in the narrative. Thucydides refers to the future as a region or category of objects which are absolutely inaccessible intellectually: en toi aphanei. He implies that most people hold this view of the future. But Themistokles seems to recognize that over time certain contingencies become visible. Later in this passage, Thucydides claims Themistokles was both the best in analyzing present circumstances, and also the best eikastes of the most distant events in the future. The most acute intellects, like Themistokles, see consequences first. As a whole, the passage shows how human intelligence converts the static idea of an “invisible” future into a dynamic sense of the ever-unfolding course of events. As I have shown in previous chapters, intelligent characters look at the present for clues about future events. Intelligent characters like Themistokles can see specific events by calculating the possible consequences of the present circumstances. Warmongers are engaged in a similar intellectual activity. However, compared with practitioners of operational expertise, they additionally survey strategies on a potential and general level. Warmongers also pay more attention to communicating these analyses in their speeches. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 7 They need to discuss the future convincingly because they are trying to convince a whole polis to go to war. Following the practice of Thucydides and his characters, I consider to aphanes as an analytic category, containing things unknowable to all characters at a given moment in time. Items placed in the category of the invisible future may be either particular or general. Warmongers may use the term “invisible” to refer either to specific future contingencies or generalized notions like the course of events. Thucydides uses the terms invisible and visible to distinguish which future events can be foreseen by characters and which cannot at a given point in the narrative. Warmongers assume that the present circumstances, at the time of speaking, are wholly “visible.” In reality, the warmongers may indeed have a strong grasp of the strategic maneuverings of several states. They would not, however, have complete access to the mental calculations of their rivals in other states. But warmongers try to give an impression that they have all the necessary knowledge about present circumstances. Moreover, warmongers also consider other states’ intentions and expectations. They even treat the likely results of those intentions and expectations as categorically paronta “present,” andphanera “visible,” even though these actions technically lie in the future. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 S That is to say, the distinction warmongers make between the categories present/visible and future/invisible does not correspond to a normal temporal division between present and future. The first two examples come from the first and third speeches by the Korinthians in book one (1.37-43, 1.120-124). In these passages the Korinthians make explicit references to the future, to mellon; they establish a clear distinction between the particularities of the current situation and things which are future.3 3 Though they are delivered at different times and in very different circumstances, the two speeches demonstrate a consistent model for analyzing the future. This model employs contrasts between visibility and invisibility, and between present and future. Both passages adopt Themistokles’ dynamic notion of events emerging from the region of to ciphcuies into the region of visibility, from the future realm to the present realm. These antitheses emerge clearly in the first passage: 5 3 Since the Korinthians give the two speeches a year or so apart, they categorize things differently: they describe the war as “future” in 1.37-43, but call it “present” in 1.120- 124. In this instance, the natural progression of the course of events explains the shift (the Spartans have voted for war by the time of the latter speech). We must take into account that events change over time. However, I point out something rather different in the discussion. I observe instances in which speakers refer to events as present, though strictly speaking they are still in the future. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 5 9 t o peXXov T o u t t o X e u o u cb ( j> o { 3 o u v te s upas KepKupaToi k e X e u o u o iv ciSikeT v e v d<pav£t e t i k e i t c u , k c u o u k a§iov ETrap0EUTa^ auTcp (pccvspav ExQpav fjSri Kai ou psXXouaav Trpog Kopiv0(ou$ KTT|aaa0ai. The coming of the war, which the Corcyraeans have used as a bugbear to persuade you to do wrong, is still uncertain, and it is not worth while to be carried away by [calculations of advantage] into gaining the instant and declared enmity of Corinth. 1.42.2, tr. Crawley The Korinthians argue that if the Athenians are carried away by to xymplieron (antecedent of a u T c p ) and accept the Kerkyraian alliance, they will make Korinth openly hostile, and make war inevitable. The Korinthians use the antitheses I have noted. They invoke the theme of the invisible future, and place war in that category (en aphanei). However, a single action by the Athenians— alliance— is enough to pull war out of that category and make it “visible.” They reinforce the point with the other antithesis, between mellon and ou mellousan. This echoes and challenges the argument by the Kerkyraians at 1.36.1 that war is inevitable already. According to the Korinthians, the course of events is not yet certain, and war is quite avoidable at this point. But if Athens accepts the alliance, war will be both inevitable and imminent. I return to this interesting claim below. At the moment, however, we should notice that R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 0 the Korinthians establish a firm association between the future and invisibility on the one hand, and the present and visibility on the other. The Korinthians also use the metaphor of invisibility a propos the future in their third speech, though they do not use the term to mellon. Here, the main question is not the possibility of war, but the strategies they can employ in the war: u-rrapxouai Se icai aAAat oSoi r o u ttoA eu ou f n _ u v , ^ u n p a x o o v x s aTToaxaaij, p aA taxa Trapai'pEaig o u o a x c b v trpoaoBcov a l g iaxuouai. <a\ e ttits ix io u o s xrj x c o p ? - aAAa t e o c a ouk a v x i $ v u v upofBoi. q K i o T a y a p tt6A eho$ etti p r i T o I g x u PE ^ a u x o g Se a c p ' aurou tcc ttoAAcc xE xvaxai Trpos t o T r a p a x u y x a u o v - We have also other ways of carrying on the war, such as revolt of their allies, the surest method of depriving them of their revenues, which are the source of their strength, and establishment of fortified positions in their country, and various operations which cannot be foreseen at present. For war of all things proceeds least upon definite rules, but draws principally upon itself for contrivances to meet an emergency. 1.122.1, tr. Crawley In the first sentence the Korinthians propose concrete strategies: stirring allied revolts and establishing fortifications in Attika. These strategies function as achievability arguments (OS). They represent an intellectual control of the current military situation. Accordingly, they classify them as current resources: ta hyparchonta. As I noted in section one, warmongers often associate the terms ta hyparchonta and ta paronta. But R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 1 the Korinthians go on to suggest a different set of strategies, which they do not specify, and which are as yet only potential. The repetition of a lla i. . . alia represents the fact that they are shifting categories. These future plans are invisible to everyone at this moment in time (ouk . .. proidoi).5 * The Korinthians personify polemos as a shifty character, running along unknown roads, and making crafty plans as opportunities arise. However they retain Themistokles’ dynamic perspective: they are confident that opportunities will emerge later on (implicit in nun). They use their current strategies as grounds for confidence that other strategies will emerge later on. This passage shows the mechanism whereby ideas in the future can be brought into view. According to the Korinthians, the course of events itself brings new ideas and strategies. They assert the power of human anticipation. The last sentence begins as a general gnome about the nature of war, but it turns into a description of the Korinthians’ own attitudes. While they accept that events in the distant future are generally speaking unpredictable and 5 4 While the Korinthians know people will do things in the future, they cannot interpret those actions as human reactions to circumstances, and so they attribute those acts to the impersonal agency polemos. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 2 inscrutable, they also assert that skilled surveyors of the future can see those results and possibilities before other people can.5 5 There is an important difference between the second passage and the first. In the first passage, the Korinthians anticipate a specific but as yet invisible future event. In the second passage, the “invisible” strategies are quite general and lie in the distant future. At 1.122.1, the Korinthians claim confidence in their present strategies, and their ability to exploit specific opportunities in the current situation. But they cannot yet see the particular opportunities for future strategies. They describe the course of events in the war (polemos) as an impersonal and inscrutable agency because they cannot establish any rational link between those future actions and the current circumstances. At 1.42.2, the Korinthians refer to the war as a possibility which is on the cusp of 5 5 The Korinthians have a specific rhetorical purpose in invoking the topos about the course of events in war. By juxtaposing the visible realm and the invisible realm in this passage, the Korinthians associate themselves with polemos. If the distant future is inaccessible to everyone, it is inaccessible to the enemy as well as themselves. And while polemos takes unknown paths (oukepi rhetois chorei), they can themselves take paths which are unknown to the enemy (allai hodoi). The Korinthians recognize that while the future is invisible, the course of events does not reveal itself to different people simultaneously. Certain ideas may be visible to them, but invisible to the enemy. Rational planning can give them an advantage. The Korinthians use their strategic planning in the present as evidence that they can exploit similar advantages in the future. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 3 visibility. The speakers describe this possibility specifically, and they emphasize that only one thing has to happen in order to make it become categorically present. They know exactly what that one event is that stops the war from being present and visible; that event is an Athenian decision to ally with Kerkyra. Clearly, this argument is designed to scare the audience, the Athenians. It is a warmonger’s speech, after all. Though warmongers make arguments that serve their own interests, nevertheless those arguments often share a similar intellectual basis. The Korinthians make the same distinction between present and future as the other warmongers. These passages, when taken together, help us to see the way the typical warmonger visualizes future events. Both passages compare events that are still categorically future with those that are categorically present. We could say that the latter events have emerged over a “horizon” of visibility.5 6 The Korinthians appear to 5 6 My use of the term “horizon” in this sentence comes from Crawley’s translation of to autika periskopon, viz. “scanning the horizon.” This phrase occurs in the Kerkyraian speech at 1.36.1: they present an image of the warmonger state, i.e. Athens, surveying the Greek world at the time, and looking for opportunities in the coming war. The Kerkyraians imply that we should interpret the field of vision or the horizon temporally as well as geographically. Athens is not only looking at specific places in the Greek world, but at future contingencies. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 4 recognize three classes of future event. First, some events are present and visible, such as the proposed strategies; second, some events are completely invisible, such as the distant course of events within the war; and third, some events are intermediate between these. They are as yet invisible, but are close to the horizon of visibility; an example would be the prospect of war in the first passage. This classification reveals clues about the way characters calculate future events. The first category, and the tables in section one, show that Thucydidean characters do not restrict their use of the terms "present" or “visible” to things which currently exist. They use the same terms to refer to potentialities, provided that they can produce a coherent argument that those potentialities will come about. Nor does the distinction between visible and invisible rely on a contrast between particular and general. The Korinthians place specific future events in either the first or the third categories. But they also discuss the war as a whole and the course of events. These generalized notions could go in either the second or third category. Speakers can specify events in both the first and third categories by identifying them as possible consequences of the present circumstances. Events in the distant future cannot be so treated. Future events are visible or “present” only if they can be related to the current situation. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 5 The Melian Dialogue provides a number of interesting comparisons with these Korinthian arguments. The Athenians at Melos seem to use exactly the same model as the Korinthians. They make the same distinction between the category of visible/present and the category of invisible/future. For example, when the Melians protest that the Athenians are giving them a choice between war and slavery, the Athenians dismiss these considerations as suspicions about the future (hyponoicis ton mellonton: 5.S7). They insist instead that only present and visible factors should determine the Melians’ choice of action (ton paronton kai lion horate: 5.87). That is to say, they are asking the Melians to produce some reason for thinking they can resist the Athenian force successfully. The Korinthians make such an argument in the first sentence of 1.122.1. As the Athenians say, only present and visible factors count. I show below that the Athenians use the same categorizing vocabulary throughout the dialogue, and that they have the same rationale for separating those categories. The Athenians use the same model as the Korinthians for analyzing the future. At the very end of the Melian Dialogue, the Athenians sum up the situation using the language of visibility and invisibility. Throwing up their hands in despair at the Melians’ apparently senseless resistance, the Athenians remark: R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 6 You regard what is future (mellonta) as more certain than what is before your eyes (hordmena), and what is out of sight (aphane), in your eagerness, as already happening (gignomena). 5.113 In this passage, ta mellonta and ta aphane refer to the Melian reasons for continued resistance: hope, tyche, and the possibility of Spartan assistance. The Athenians have already refuted these contentions earlier in the dialogue (5.102-5).5 7 The Athenians argue in this passage that the Melians are making a fundamental category mistake. They introduce possible consequences as if they were present factors. The Melians cannot produce a compelling reason for thinking they will prevent the Athenians from conquering the island. Slightly earlier, the Athenians insist that the Melians produce present factors rather than considerations which depend on the future: “Your strongest expectations are in the future, while your present resources are too scanty to hold out. compared with those already ranged against you” (5.111.2). The Athenians here make explicit the contention that actors ought to make calculations about consequences on the 5 7 While most military actors in Thucydides recognize the role of tyche in events, the Athenians show that there is no reason to expect it to play a role in the current situation. Similarly, there is no reason to expect the Spartans to offer assistance, given their past record (5.105.4). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 7 basis of present circumstances. The Athenians are not saying that only concrete military forces determine outcomes. They are asking for rational arguments based on the particular conditions at the time which suggest that the Melians can stand up to Athens. The Athenians recognize that in this case the relative military discrepancy is so great that all other factors can be discounted.5 8 In this situation, only two results are realistically possible: Melian subjection or Melian defeat in war. The Melians offer reasons for resistance, but they cannot tie them compellingly to the present situation like the warmongers I studied in section one. This comparison between the Athenian and Korinthian arguments shows that various highly self-interested arguments all recognize very similar categories of analysis. The distinction between present/visible and invisible/future runs very deep indeed in warmongers’ speeches. These categories are capable of containing just about any type of object or idea: an army, naval power, the notion of chance, a potential war, possible Spartan help, a general notion of the future course of events, and as yet unformed strategies. The categorical distinctions seem to override any other distinctions 5 8 By balancing each side’s intentions and capability, the Athenians can determine the likely results (cf. ta dynata: 5.89). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 8 between types of event, idea, or possibility. Warmongers use these categories to analyze any and every consideration that is relevant to a decision for war. They analyze objects within these categories according to established rules of inference. The Athenians recognize the same three classifications of future event as the Korinthians. The most interesting distinctions involve items which are close to the horizon of visibility. Just as the Korinthians recognize that war is kept categorically future and invisible by one single decision, the Athenians claim that the Spartans’ choice whether to support Melos places the Melians’ hopes of support in the future. These similarities suggest that characters share a sense of the “normal expectations” surrounding events.5 9 Items are categorically future and invisible if they are contingent on prior events. Events are categorically present and visible if they are not contingent on a prior event, that is, if a serious and rational argument can be made that nothing is likely to stop those events coming about. Contingency often consists of a human choice, but it could also involve 5 9 Warmongers naturally argue that they are themselves acting normally and expectedly. The Athenians at Melos, for example, argue that both sides in the dispute ought to share their view, and that their view corresponds to conventional human beliefs: Ta S u v a r a 5 ’ e £ cbv E K & T E p oi a A r | 0 c b s 9 p o v o u [ i E v 8iaTrpdaaea0ai. Eipf|KaTE cp av0pcoTTOi d v TTicjTEUoavTE^ voniaetav aco0f|aea0ai. 5.89, 5.111.2 R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 6 9 the operation of chance. However, warmongers like the Athenians tend not to take chance into account. They are more inclined to blame other people rather than chance for bad consequences. These passages suggest the following conclusions. Contingency plays a fundamental role in every warmonger’s speech. All warmongers acknowledge that fate and the course of events place limits on future planning. On the other hand, they make confident plans for the short term future, as the tables in the last section attest. Warmongers present these confident plans as secure predictions, ones which are not susceptible to the whims of fate. Speakers use words for visibility to express this confidence in analysis. Implicitly, they posit a horizon of visibility, and at times they define quite precisely where this horizon lies. By analyzing data in this way, they are able to separate outcomes which are contingent from those which are noncontingent. Ultimately, I will show that warmongers make two different types of statement regarding future events. They make confident statements regarding the visible future, and less confident statements about the remote future. They acknowledge that long term prognoses depend on the course of events. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 0 Thucydides himself uses the distinction between contingent and noncontingent in his famous judgment on Athenian reactions to the second Sicilian expedition during the Archidamian War (4.65.4). By imposing fines on the unsuccessful generals, the Athenians demonstrated an appetite for both possible and more remote objectives: ta dynata en isoi kai ta apordtera.*0 Thucydides implies here that the people should have recognized that the expedition was ambitious, and that their expectations should have been more modest.6 1 Thucydides might simply have used ta apordtera in place of the phrase mentioned above. Instead, he establishes a contrast between ta dynata and ta apordtera. This is significant because Thucydides attributes the same distinction to his characters in major speeches. In the course of the text, we see many intelligent actors in various situations calculating which objectives are achievable in the present circumstances, and which objectives are contingent on the actions of others or on 6 0 Scholars disagree on whether apordtera means “more difficult” (e.g. Lattimore) or “too difficult” (e.g. Farrar). I would favor the former, though either would fit the present argument. 6 1 In this passage, Thucydides claims that the assembly did not have realistic expectations about the opposition to Athens, and about the forces necessary to subdue the island (meden enantiousai . . . endeesteraiparaskeuei). Enantiousai incorporates both direct opposition by the enemy and the “opposition” provided by complex sets of events. This criticism still holds true nine years later (6.1.1). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 1 tyche.6 2 Thucydides castigates the Athenian assembly for failing to recognize a fundamental intellectual distinction. And he makes Kleon criticize the Athenians for the same reason: “[you examine] the possibility of future events on the basis of fine speeches” (3.38.4).6 3 Unless characters distinguish contingent and noncontingent objectives in a rational fashion, they do not make wise decisions. Warmongers constantly keep this distinction clear. Alkibiades, for example, makes strategic suggestions to the Spartans that have a decisive influence on the war’s outcome. He outlines the possible consequences of occupying Dekeleia, including loss of revenue to Athens both from the silver mines and from the allies; Thucydides later confirms the accuracy of this prediction (6.91.7, cf. 7.27.2-5). Alkibiades sums up his analysis by stating “I am absolutely confident. .. that these are possible (dyncitci).” In the main, warmongers use the word dynatos to refer to immediate likelihoods, not remote 6 2 Thucydides uses many words besides aporos to describe contingent outcomes. Perhaps the most vivid of these is the word “obstruction” (koluma: 4.63.1). Hermokrates here concretizes those factors which prevent the Sicilians from achieving their goals. Herodotos uses an equivalent term in the speech by Artabanos, referring to the way tyche poses obstructions to a plan (enantidthenai: 7.105). 6 3 Kleon’s words are ta .. . mellonta . . . hos dynata gignesthai. To be sure, Kleon’s main arguments in this section are that the people behave like a theatrical audience, and that they do not use their own faculties of judgment when making political decisions, but rely on the proclivities of the speaker they favor. Nevertheless, he expresses these points in terms of the distinction between contingent and noncontingent. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 2 possibilities. Alkibiades could conceivably have said that a long term goal, such as Sparta’s eventual victory in the war, was dynatos.6 * But like most other warmongers, he uses this vocabulary only for objectives that can be achieved in the short term. This point of vocabulary, like the other points above, show that both Thucydides and his characters recognize a profound distinction between short term objectives and long term goals. Immediate objectives depend only minimally on tyche or on the actions of other people. Warmongers tend to avoid committing themselves to their predictions unless they are confident they can bring them about. Tables #2-4 (above, page 320-22) show how prevalent these confident predictions are. Each particular analysis represents a likely advantage or disadvantage for the speaker’s polis. Claims such as these are short term, modest, and noncontingent. They make up a distinct class of analysis in warmongers’ speeches. I have called these arguments “achievability arguments” 6 4 Alkibiades ends the speech (6.92.5) with a vision of Spartan victory, and contrasts their longstanding security with the total defeat of Athens. But he introduces this proposition using a purpose clause with hina. He does not state outright that this prediction will be fulfilled, as he does at 6.92.1. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 3 because warmongers start with confident claims about specific achievements, and build larger cases out of them. Warmongers’ speeches contain arguments about long term objectives, and these arguments are very different. Political leaders have to persuade the people of the state, or at least the governmental body, to go to war. The warmonger articulates the long term aims of the polis. As he presents them, these goals are jeopardized by the enem v. and they can only be accomplished by war. He has to make the polis’ war aims match its long term goals. Warmongers frequently claim that war is inevitable.0 3 Goals function, at a profound level, as the reason for going to war. However, these goals are obviously contingent. They depend on a whole host of unknown factors. Warmongers in Thucydides do not tend to think that the war will be both victorious and short; as we have seen, they realize that uncertainty makes the war disappear into the realm of to aphanes. Yet the warmonger’s arguments for pursuing war depend on ultimate victory, on achieving something which is as yet unclear. Warmongers have to wrestle with the idea that the outcome of a war is never certain, and still come up with sound arguments 6 5 Korinthians, 1.42.2, 1.124.2; Perikles, 1.144.3; Mytileneans, 3.12.3; Hermokrates. 4.59.2; Alkibiades, 6.18.3. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 4 for war. Each speaker acknowledges the unforeseeability of the future course of events.6 6 While he thinks his state will win the war, he does not offer guarantees that it will win, or about when it will win. At most, they say victory is likely, and they produce the best reasons they can for thinking they will win. The difference is important, because it shows that speakers give statements about long term achievement with a certain hesitancy. Goals are long term, ambitious, and contingent. Arguments about long term achievement recognize that contingency. Achievability arguments and arguments about goals operate concurrently in warmongers’ speeches. While we can concentrate on specific claims about strategy, or on large scale arguments for war, we must also be sensitive to the way these levels of argument depend on each other. By comparing the main practical arguments in warmonger’s speeches, we can see how they link present choices to long term consequences. I return to the Korinthian and Athenian speeches, and I investigate the way they link long term achievement to critical present decisions, using the fundamental distinction between present and future, and between contingent and “ Athenians, 1.78.2; Korinthians, 1.122.1; Perikles, 1.140.1; Archidamos, 1.81.6, 2.11.4; Mytileneans, 3.13.2; Plataians, 3.59.1; Spartans, 4.18.3-5; Hermokrates, 4.62.4, 4.64.1; Melians, 5.102,4; Alkibiades, 6.18.3; Nikias 6.23.3, 7.61.3. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 5 noncontingent. This distinction governs the way warmongers present human choices or alternative courses of action. Warmongers tend to argue that the subsequent course of events depends entirely on certain critical decisions. This point comes out most clearly when the warmongers address their potential enemies, like the Korinthians at Athens and the Athenians at Melos. Each speaker boils down the potential courses of events to two possibilities. If the audience makes one choice, the outcome will be catastrophic; if they choose the alternative, all will be well. For instance, the Korinthians give the Athenians the following choice. Either (A) Athens allies with Kerkyra and war ensues, or (B) Athens rejects the alliance and war is avoided. According to the Korinthian argument, the Athenian choice between (A) and (B) will determine whether consequence (A) or consequence (B) follows. The Korinthians have worked out the expected consequences for either Athenian choice. In the Melian Dialogue, the Athenians give the Melians a parallel choice.6 7 Either (A) the Melians refuse to surrender and the Athenians annihilate them, or (B) the Melians surrender and the Athenians subject them. According to the 6 7 The choice emerges explicitly at 5.86 and 5.93, but underpins the whole discussion. See Bosworth 1993. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 6 Athenians, everything hinges on the Melians’ decision. Both speakers narrow down the possible results to consequence (A) or consequence (B).6 8 Option (B) leads to reasonable consequences, and option (A) leads to disaster. Of course the audience does not necessarily agree with this assessment. But this method of presentation reinforces conventional notions of normality. The speaker stigmatizes option (A) as somehow abnormal; he presents option (B) to the audience as a normal and sensible course of action. He assumes, that is, that if his audience chooses the disastrous option (A), they will be entirely to blame for the consequences. By implication, everyone else involved 6 8 The pattern is similar when the warmonger addresses prospective allies rather than potential enemies, as the Mytileneans do. In these cases, the speaker argues that both he and the enemy is acting perfectly according to expectations, even if the enemy is evil. But the audience’s voluntary action might help the enemy abnormally, and ensure their complete victory. The Mytileneans give the Spartans a choice between (A) ignoring the Mytileneans and seeing all the Athenian subjects refuse to revolt, and (B) helping the Mytileneans and gaining the power to destroy the Athenian empire. Hermokrates gives the Sicilians the choice between (A) fighting each other and being destroyed by the Athenians, and (B) uniting and resisting Athens. In all four of the cases I have discussed, the speaker maintains that large scale events depend on a single choice by the audience. He does, of course, recognize that other actors contribute to these events, and that they have choices too. The warmonger therefore makes an assumption that these other actors (including themselves) pursue their own interests as they see them, that they act perfectly normally and predictably. On the one hand, then, the speaker and other actors are compelled by circumstances to pursue given courses of action, while on the other hand the audience is not compelled by circumstances, and its choice of action will be fully voluntary. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 7 in the events is behaving in a perfectly normal and proper fashion. Only the audience, by choosing option (A), shifts events away from their natural course. The component of free human choice counts as an element of contingency. Voluntary choices are presented as chaotic, unpredictable, and potentially disastrous. When tracing events into the future, warmongers try to remove the component of free human choice as much as possible.6 9 Warmongers treat the audience’s critical choice as the last piece of contingency left in the way of disaster. They present themselves as the only thing 6 9 We can compare this assumption with the “voluntary intervention principle,” which is often recognized in the philosophy of law. Hart and Honore 1985:129 define voluntary intervention as “the free, deliberate and informed act or omission of a human being, intended to produce the consequence which is in fact produced, ” and they claim that such an act “negatives [sic] causal connection.” In other words, the process of tracing causation back from a given consequence stops at a fully voluntary and intentional act. Therefore, any act occurring before the voluntary intervention cannot be deemed responsible for the final consequence. Feinberg 1974:153 discusses this principle insightfully, and cites the following example. If someone pushes a child down an open elevator shaft, this counts as a fully voluntary act, and the perpetrator is responsible for the consequences. Now if the elevator operator had negligently left the elevator shaft open and unguarded when this act happened, then the operator cannot be held responsible, because the voluntary act intervened between his negligent omission and the consequences. In the same way, warmongers in Thucydides warn the audience of the consequences of their decision, and promise to hold the audience responsible for them if they choose the destructive option (option A in these cases). They regard other human choices as somehow dictated by circumstances, therefore not fully voluntary, and therefore not responsible for the consequences. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 8 preventing the enemy from destroying the world.7 0 Warmongers are naturally optimistic about their chances in war, but this does not mean they are convinced of victory. They recommend war to head off otherwise inevitable and catastrophic consequences. Perikles uses this style of analysis just like the other warmongers. In his last speech, Perikles lays the critical choice at the door of the Athenians, since he is addressing them and not the enemy. It is stupid to go to war if you have a choice. Perikles states (2.61.1). He then presents two potential Athenian reactions and their consequences: (A) to make peace and to subject themselves to Sparta; (B) to continue the war and eventually overcome Sparta. Option (B) represents Athens’ own goals, and option (A) represents the enemy’s goals. Perikles takes chance out of the picture, and sets one human intention against another. He expects both Athens and the enemy to pursue their own goals, and presents these goals as diametrically opposed. In this context, it would go against the normal order of things to yield, to take option (A). This is the type of argument warmongers use when they address their own side or potential allies. Hermokrates and the Mytileneans also draw a picture of two outsized intentions 7 0 The Melians are the only warmongers who argue that tyche might stop the enemy. The others argue that it is up to themselves to oppose the enemy. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 7 9 pitted against each other. All three of these speakers argue that yielding to the enemy is out of the question, since it will lead to certain disaster. To each of them, compliance would be irrational. What is interesting in these three cases, however, is their complexity of tone. While all the speeches describe in detail the terrors posed by the enemy, they are nevertheless remarkably sober about their chances of success. Perikles argues that if the Athenians choose option (A), the consequences will be certain: the Spartans will definitely destroy Athens (cf. 2.63.2, extracted at the head of the chapter). But Perikles is not so certain about the consequences of option (B). He acknowledges that this course of action involves risks (kinduneusein). He does not guarantee at any point in his speeches that Athens will win if it continues the war. Perikles encourages the Athenians to resist and suffer in the short term, because it has a chance of success in the long run. But only a chance. The Mytileneans, Hermokrates, and the Korinthians (in their second and third speeches) give similarly nuanced arguments. If warmongers simplify the military situation, they do so according to a detectable pattern. Warmongers have an interest in exaggerating the danger posed by the enemy. On the whole, however, they do not exaggerate their own chances of victory.7 1 711 have suggested in section one that some speeches contain weak arguments. Alkibiades seems to exaggerate the Athenian chances of victory in his speech at 6.16-8, as do the Korinthians to a certain extent at 1.120-124. Much of the material in these two R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 0 These arguments represent some of the most important predictions about long term achievement in Thucydides. They are the biggest arguments concerning the greatest events. Warmongers use these argumentative techniques to persuade a state or governmental body to make immediate sacrifices, to go into a war which they know will be long and hard. They cannot be sure they will win, but they argue that circumstances force them to take action now.7 2 They treat war as a matter of survival. Warmongers identify their war aims with the state’s ultimate goals. If we look at a few statements of aims, we find they have more than one function. Perikles tells the Athenians to go to war to show Sparta that they will not take orders about their foreign policy; Archidamos argues that the Spartans must stop the Athenians harming Spartan allies; both the Mytileneans and the Sicilians go to war to avoid being swallowed up speeches is speculative. Both of these speeches, however, give grounds for confidence, and their advice about how to achieve victory is not carried out. Other warmongers, like Perikles, Hermokrates, the Mytileneans, and the Korinthians on other occasions (esp. 1.68-71), do present relatively sober analyses of the future. 7 2 Archidamos seems the only exception to this statement: he argues that Sparta should go to war in two or three years, because it is not militarily ready now (1.82.2, cf. 1.80.3- 1.81.6). All others advise immediate action. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 1 into the Athenian empire (1.140.3; 1.82.1; 3.11.1-3; 4.60.1-2).7 3 Statements like these are both simple and complex. They have a straightforward rhetorical function: the speaker must tell the audience in simple terms what they are fighting for. But as pieces of analysis these statements are complex, because they are highly nuanced. Warmongers know these aims depend on future events, which are as yet uncertain and invisible. By quoting these statements in isolation, we ignore the delicate structure of propositions about future achievement which supports them. In sections three and four, 7 3 Note that in these cases the speakers express their states’ war aims in negative terms. It is not hard to derive a positive reflex for each of these claims: Perikles wants the Athenian empire to prosper without Spartan intervention; Archidamos wants Sparta to maintain its system of allies and to continue its dominance in land warfare; the Mytileneans wish to restore eleutheria and autonomia for themselves and potentially for all the Greek states (3.13.1); Hermokrates wants each of the Sicilian cities to live freely and equally, and to judge good and bad action for themselves (4.63.2). By defining war aims negatively, the warmonger appears to use the enemy’s goals to define his own state’s goals. They present aims in this way because they feel more confident about describing the enemy’s threats than their own prospects of success, for the reasons I gave in the last paragraph. Warmongers argue that the enemy must be stopped at all costs. Warmongers see their positive goals as the exact opposite of the negative goal. By aiming for their own goals, they are aiming to prevent the enemy from achieving its own goals. But even when they define their goals positively, they do so tentatively. As I argued above, they recognize that these positive goals depend on victory, and that victory still depends on many things besides their present state of military readiness. They acknowledge that these are remote goals, which can only be achieved by defeating the enemy decisively in war. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 2 I will be investigating those structures, focusing first on Perikles, and then on the other warmongers. It is important to recognize the complexity of warmongers’ analytical statements about long term achievement. Up to now, scholars have tended to hold a monolithic view about characters’ prognostications. That is to say, scholars assume that predictions are of the same type, and can easily be tested by comparing them to later events. De Romilly 1956 and Stahl 1973 have shown that this method works well when assessing analysis about concrete factors. The warmongers’ speeches in general hold up well when we compare the achievability arguments with later events. However, arguments about goals are different in nature. In particular, predictions relating to goals are not made with the same confidence as specific achievability arguments. I will give a particular example here. Many scholars have criticized the third Korinthian speech for assuming that the war will be a short one.7 4 But if we look at the whole speech, we find 7 4 Many commentators have found fault with this speech. Recent critics include Cogan 1981:35-36 and Macleod 1983:124. But perhaps the most forceful statement comes from Gomme, who catalogues specific points on which they were supposedly wrong: The foreign rowers in the Athenian fleet were not to be bought (mainly, doubtless, because Athens controlled the seas to which they belonged); a single defeat at sea did not end Athenian resistance; years of practice at R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 3 that they are not at all clear on this point.7 5 Scholars tend to draw attention to two statements in the speech which suggest a short war. At 1.121.4, the Korinthians claim sea did not make the Peloponnesian fleet the equal of its enemy until the latter had been almost entirely destroyed at Syracuse, and hardly then, as later Athenian victories showed; above all, the war was not a short one, as the Corinthians clearly envisage it, nor did it show that a war could secure a just and lasting peace. If Thucydides did compose the speech out of his own head, he intended it to show, among other things, the mistaken optimism of many of the Peloponnesians at the beginning of the war. Gomme HCT 1:419 While the first three points can clearly be identified in the speech, the point about the length of the war seems to be a composite of several passages. Like most other commentators, Gomme treats these statements monolithically, as if they can all be judged straightforwardly on the basis of subsequent events. As I hope to have shown, this attitude is problematic. Even the first three points mentioned by Gomme do not turn out to be simply wrong. While it is clear from the narrative of 2.83-92 (discussed in the first chapter) that the Peloponnesians did not understand the real nature of Athenian naval superiority, it is not clearly foolish to hold those beliefs: the narrative does not unequivocally condemn the Korinthians’ ideas. In the Sicilian expedition, a couple of decisive sea battles do have a severe impact on Athenian naval domination; at the beginning of book eight it remains unclear whether Athens can continue the war. The Korinthians show that the Athenians rely on shaky assumptions about naval superiority; eventually the Syracusans exploit the particular conditions in the Great Harbor of Syracuse to help them against Athens. But Thucydides attributes the innovations made by the Syracusans at 7.36 to the Korinthians, who fought a naval engagement against Athenian ships with ships designed to exploit the cramped conditions of the Korinthian gulf (7.34). So these statements made at the very beginning of the war, while necessarily optimistic, are not simply unrealistic. 7 5 By contrast, both Archidamos and Perikles make explicit statements that the war is likely to last a long time (1.81.6, 1.141.5). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 S 4 that Athens will likely lose the war if it suffers a single naval defeat, and at 124.2 they request the allies to look beyond the war to the peace which follows. Neither of these, however, necessarily indicates that they envision a short war. In the first passage, the Korinthians accept the possibility that it will take some time to defeat the Athenians at sea; they are asserting that they will have advantages whether the war is long or short. Nor does the second passage belittle the war. That claim functions as a support for the argument that in these circumstances going to war is safer than remaining at peace. The Korinthians say quite specifically in this passage that peace can only be enjoyed after the war has been won decisively. They would prefer a long war to a short but indecisive one. And elsewhere in the speech, they make the general observation that people always fall short in executing their plans (1.120.5). Nowhere do the Korinthians say that they will win a quick victory.7 6 They know that the question of going to war is a large and difficult one. Like most other warmongers, they are reluctant to make confident predictions about the results of the war. Nevertheless they make confident achievability arguments, as I have demonstrated above. The Korinthians may move easily between 7 6 It is worth pointing out that at 1.121.1 the words katathesometha [ton poleinon] en kairdi depends on the previous clause. The Korinthians mean, “we will end the war as soon as we have succeeded in defending ourselves against the Athenians,” not that they will defeat the Athenians quickly. See Gomme’s note ad loc. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 5 realistic and hypothetical analysis, but this does not mean that they confuse the two. The statements which I have mentioned above are marked out using a kind of bracketing technique. The Korinthians are careful to mark out some statements as contingent and others as noncontingent. Some claims refer to the invisible future, others refer to the visible present. Like Perikles, Hermokrates, and the Mytileneans, the Korinthians speak about future achievement with a certain amount of care. In this section I advance a simple but very important conclusion. Warmongers use a different style of argument when speaking about goals than when making achievability arguments. For the reasons I have outlined above, they cannot treat arguments about going to war in the same way as the specific claims about strategic advantages in the war. If they believe the war will be long, then whatever their reasons for going to war, those reasons necessarily depend on factors they cannot predict. I have identified the criterion of contingency as a crucial assumption throughout the speeches of warmongers. Warmongers seem to accept that their wider argument recommending war depends on numerous factors which they cannot delimit precisely. Warmongers use a contingent form of argumentation side by side with noncontingent arguments. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 6 Arguments from achievability maintain that certain advantages and disadvantages can be directly connected to the present situation. But the state’s goals lie beyond the visible horizon of the course of events. These cannot be fulfilled in the immediate future. Naturally, warmongers are basically interested in potential and long term achievement. The specific strategic arguments function as a means to an end. They serve as sound data for perhaps speculative cases about the remote future. Warmongers do not necessarily hold the wider arguments to the same standards of accuracy.771 have argued that future events can legitimately be described as present or visible if they can be strongly connected to the present situation, if intervening factors such as ryche can be reduced to a minimal level. However, warmongers do have some standards for arguments about goals. Now Thucydides gives us many examples of human actions 7 7 A little tableau from the Melian Dialogue illustrates this difference in attitude and intellectual commitment. The Melians sheepishly advance some arguments which they acknowledge do not fit the strictest standards of accuracy (entou tou akribous: 5.90). The Athenians are not impressed; this is because the Melians are making predictions about possible future events which may save them (cf. 5.100-104) while the Athenians are demanding present solutions. Speculative arguments may be acceptable for a state starting a war, but they do not hold any weight when the speakers are confronted with military forces. For an ideological interpretation of this episode, see Crane 1998:8-9, 55-65. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 7 which are governed by quite unrealistic goals.7 8 But as I will show later, warmongers’ goals are almost never unrealistic in this sense. Speakers who deliver pieces of long term future analysis are very careful to qualify their predictions. I have argued that warmongers recognize a categorical distinction between achievability and goals. They consider goals as future because they are contingent: they are susceptible to tyche, or they require things to happen which the state cannot control. Achievability arguments, on the other hand, focus on factors which the state can control more or less directly. From the speaker’s perspective, goals represent the far end of the future, and achievability arguments represent the near end. Goals represent the furthest 7 8 We can find many instances in Thucydides of characters conceiving unrealistic goals. Some of the most famous instances involve the term elpis (though it is worth remembering that elpis can be either well founded or ill founded: cf. 2.84.2, 3.30.3 etc.). Thucydides judges that the Thracian states who revolted during Brasidas’ expedition were motivated by “blind wishing rather than by sound foresight” (4.108.4). Hermokrates claims that those Sicilian states who would like Athens to weaken Syracuse, and yet want Syracuse to protect them from Athens, hold “a wish beyond human power” (6.78.2). In Kleon’s view the Athenian allies who have revolted “conceive wishes beyond what is possible” (3.39.3). These aims are unrealistic, and are criticized at the time, because the characters ignore vital conditions which are visible and predictable at the time. Hermokrates, Kleon, and Thucydides judge other characters’ predictions on the basis of the conditions obtaining at the time those predictions are made. Both achievability arguments and arguments about goals must give due attention to the essential factors which determine the situation at the time of speaking. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. limit of his concern with the future, while achievability arguments represent future events which are so immediate he often describes them as “present.” Each speaker attempts to make a convincing transition from near to far, that is, from what is achievable to long term goals. Each acknowledges that tyche and the future course of events lies between the two. I will be arguing that Perikles uses the third form of reasoning, general knowledge, to make a convincing bridge between these two ways of. looking at the future. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 8 9 P art Three: Perikles In this section, I show how Perikles engages in long term analysis using general knowledge. I have shown so far that warmongers can approach the long term future in two different ways, using two different types of argument. These are achievability arguments and arguments about goals. But in order to make convincing and successful predictions, characters must combine these two fundamentally different modes of argumentation. I argue in this section that Perikles is supreme at making a successful bridge between achievability and goals. I discussed Perikles’ achievability arguments in the first section, and found that in themselves these arguments are not fundamentally different from the arguments advanced by other warmongers, since they focus on factors which are immediately visible, factors which can be counted upon in the war to come. In this section I focus on Perikles’ arguments about Athenian goals, and I also demonstrate Perikles’ capacity to relate those goals to particular situations. A major part of the warmonger’s project is to give a convincing account of the state’s goals, in order to convince people that it is worth going to war. When a state goes to war, its goals are equivalent to its war aims. Warmongers try to persuade the governing body that those war aims are desirable, or that any alternative is unacceptable. In this sense, arguments about goals are the main object of the warmonger’s long term analysis. In what follows R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 0 I argue that Perikles gives the most compelling articulation of war aims among all the warmongers, because in his speeches, we find arguments about goals bound most tightly to the arguments about achievability. In this study, general knowledge is the intellectual capacity to combine achievability and goals. The material for this section will be Perikles’ three main speeches. I have discussed Perikles’ first speech in the first section, because it contains a high concentration of achievability arguments. But it is crucial to recognize that all three speeches serve as powerful arguments for war. All three contain clear and convincing arguments about both achievability and goals. One of my findings will be that Perikles’ overall argument stays very much the same from the first speech to his last speech, almost two years later. Perikles makes this point at the beginning of his last speech (2.60.1), but scholars have not always appreciated how deeply true this claim is. I treat the Funeral Speech as an expanded description of Athens’ goals or war aims. It gives the reader a powerful vision of what Athens is fighting for. The final speech reinforces Perikles’ strategy, and places that strategy in a political context. Though these speeches focus on different aspects of the question of going to war, we can find throughout his R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 1 speeches a remarkably powerful and clear vision of Athens’ goals, and of how to realize those goals. The wider argument of the chapter is that Thucydides presents Perikles as an ideal of human reasoning about events. By studying Perikles’ analysis over the first two years of the war, we can recognize his supreme ability to apply a consistent analysis to successive sets of circumstances. Perikles maximizes what is accessible to human understanding, and minimizes the role of the unpredictable. I will argue that in Thucydides’ eyes, this constitutes an ideal intellectual approach to circumstances. In his obituary of Perikles (2.65.10), Thucydides condemns Perikles’ successors for not following his example, and instead fighting with each other and trying to please the crowd. In Thucydides’ opinion, the successors could have done what Perikles did, but did not. So Perikles is not presented as an individual with an unmatchable talent for finding correct policy, but as a man whose personal interests do not interfere with his policies. I have mentioned Thucydides’ presentation of Themistokles’ genius (1.138.3).7 9 It could certainly be argued that Thucydides regards him as the intellectual 7 9 This description refers principally to Themistokles’ conduct during the Persian Wars, which Thucydides has given us in very little detail. The only extended Themistokles narrative in Thucydides concerns his efforts to save himself; it does not show R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. equal of Perikles, at least for his action in the Persian Wars. But Thucydides gives us much more material for Perikles, both in his speeches and in the narrative. The section of the text which directly involves Perikles covers the first two seasons of the war. During that time, Peloponnesian invasions and the plague have shifted the Athenians’ mood from initial enthusiasm and confidence to utter panic and despair. It is clear that Thucydides has structured his narrative so as to present Perikles’ first and last speeches as bookends for this period.8 0 On an explicit level, Perikles’ speeches apply to that period in Athenian history. In this period, the Athenians suffer a catastrophic plague, and experience the psychological trauma of uprooting themselves from Attika and of seeing the Spartans march all over their land. Nevertheless, Perikles is able to get the Athenians to appreciate the strength of his plan for the war. Arguably, however, this first couple of years could be taken as a synecdoche for the whole war. Certainly, the obituary of Perikles compares his strategy with Athenian policy throughout the whole Themistokles working for Athens. Throughout this study I have concentrated on characters who are working on behalf of their own state. 8 0 Connor 1984:69-72 contains good comments on the way Thucydides has used Periklean speeches to structure the narrative. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 3 Peloponnesian War.8 1 In a profound sense, Thucydides in chapter 2.65 sets up the ghost of Perikles to hover over the whole later narrative. It is important not to overstate this argument. Perikles is not able to predict whole sequences of future events, and his strategy should not be applied mechanically to specific later events and decisions. But in his speeches Perikles does demonstrate a mastery of general knowledge. He has a firm idea of Athens’ goals, and he knows how to work towards them in particular situations. I argue in the fourth section that that the intellectual comprehension demonstrated by Perikles in the first two years of the war serves as a model of interpretation which Thucydides expects the reader to bear in mind when reading about subsequent events. Thucydides uses Perikles to present to the reader a form of analysis about events which may be applied to a wide range of situations, but which still takes into account the subtle changes in circumstances throughout the course of the war. Perikles not only explains current circumstances in a particularly powerful fashion, but he also sets down an intellectual framework for analyzing potential future events. Thucydides expects the reader to recognize how to 8 1 Westlake 1968:40 calls chapter 2.65 the obituary of Perikles’ strategy, not the obituary of Perikles himself. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 4 apply this framework to events throughout the Peloponnesian War and theoretically to other wars as well. The idea that Perikles provides a key to interpreting the whole work is not a new one. Many of the best Thucydidean scholars have discussed the importance of Perikles, and specifically his intellectual qualities. One of the most influential of these discussions, Edmunds 1975, posits that Athenians (and especially Perikles) focus on the power of human rationality, while Spartans tend to stress the unpredictability of future events. Chance and intelligence are clearly central themes in Thucydides’ work. I hope to make two contributions to this debate. First, I do not treat Perikles’ intelligence as a monolithic entity. We can explore the nature of his intelligence not only by exploring explicit vocabulary, but also by using implicit references. A sensitive reading of Perikles’ speeches reveals the way his reasoning works in practical situations. In particular, I distinguish Perikles’ treatment of short term consequences and long term ones. Second, I focus on the way Perikles’ intellectual capacities determine attitudes and emotions. I suggest that Perikles recognizes the unpredictability of long term consequences, and speaks about them with deference. However, he is quite confident about short term results. For these reasons I believe it correct to describe Perikles as the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 5 embodiment of gnome, as long as we recognize in gnome a distinction between short term and long term analysis8 2 In section two I have suggested that many Thucydidean speakers acknowledge the difference between short term and long term predictions. Perikles distinguishes them with remarkable rigor; but at the same time, he is able to construct arguments of great intellectual density to move between the short term and the long term. In this section, I explore the way Perikles does this. Without a doubt, Perikles presents rationality and logical analysis as the way to achieve success in the war (e.g. 1.140.1, 2.61.3, 2.62.5). But it is worth pointing out that Perikles also emphasizes the role of chance, and treats the distant future as unknown, just like any other character. Perikles nowhere suggests that rationality will guarantee future success; instead, he believes it brings a measure of control over future events. This control can be seen most clearly in the achievability arguments I described in section one. Most of the discussion below focuses on those parts of Perikles’ analysis which look forward to the distant future. Ultimately, I argue that rational analysis can play a role in reducing in number the sources of unpredictability. The most intelligent characters, like Perikles, can reduce sources of 8 2 Compare Parry 1972:59-60. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 6 unpredictability to a minimal level.8 3 It would be absurd and impossible to say that Perikles removes absolutely all sources of unpredictability. However he does seem to discount everything except that irreducible set of factors that truly count as matters of chance.8 4 Perikles does this by making long term results as open as possible to the type of analysis he uses in his achievability arguments. Perikles’ arguments employ the two forms of cognition I studied in the last two chapters. His speeches contain both operational expertise and psychological expertise. 8 3 Edmunds 1975:97-99 observes that the Peloponnesian generals blame a wind as if it were a matter of chance, when they have in fact shown a lack of expertise (2.S7.2). See chapter one for this episode. One of Edmunds’ capital insights is that tyche as a class of events is subject to interpretation (1975:97-99). Different characters may attribute events either to chance or to human planning. They may describe an event as an act of chance for reasons of self-exculpation, as the Peloponnesian generals do at 2.87.3. I argue that Perikles uses his own brand of rational analysis to minimize the role played by tyche in the war to come. 8 4 Inevitably, Perikles cannot see certain things that, for instance, somebody in Sparta could see. My argument is that Perikles reduces unforeseeable events as much as possible. Consider Perikles’ attitude to the plague, an event which is generally agreed (by both characters and Thucydides scholars) to be a matter of chance. At 2.64.1 Perikles describes the plague as an act of chance, and the only event he failed to foresee. Perikles means that he foresaw everything else. Now he is not making the absurd claim that he foresaw absolutely every event in the war, in sequence, except the plague. Rather, Perikles is intent on minimizing the role in the war played by tyche and other unpredictable factors. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 7 The achievability arguments I studied in section one demonstrate military analysis in specific types of military operation, and they also demonstrate his sensitivity to the enemy’s strategic thinking. In the following discussion I show how Perikles’ analysis subsumes these levels of thinking but forms a third category in itself. Brasidas could see the enemy’s goals because they were tightly bound to the current operation or campaign. Perikles sees further into the future than this. His vision subsumes a whole war. This is not to say that he knows specific events in the coming war. Perikles is more interested in producing general truths about the war, which allow those who understand them to decide policy for specific occasions. Perikles does this using general knowledge. In the discussion below I discuss various propositions demonstrating general knowledge. These claims are not specific in nature, but they pick out essential elements in various different sets of circumstances, and are designed to hold true far into the future. I begin the investigation with the same piece of text many previous scholars have identified as the key to Perikles’ intellectual qualities. During his final speech, Perikles suggests that he fits four crucial criteria better than everyone else: R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 8 K a iT o i E |io \ t o i o u t c o a v S p t o p y {£ E O 0 E 05 o u S ev o s fia o co v o io p a i e T v a t y v c b v a i t e r a S e o v t c c K a i e p n r |V E u a a i T a O x a , 91X0 T T0 X1 5 t e te a t x p T l u a x c o v K p e i'a a c o v . And yet if you are angry with me, it is with one who, as I believe, is second to no man either in knowledge of the proper policy, or in the ability to expound it, and who is moreover not only a patriot but an honest one. 2.60.5, tr. Crawley Perikles claims here that it is critical for a politician not only to find the best policy, but also to persuade the people to take his advice. Moreover, he must be devoted to the city and be free from corruption. These criteria have inspired a number of influential insights in Thucydides scholarship. Gomme has recognized that ta cleonta is a crucial term. He argues that it is a key to our understanding of Perikles, because it is a key to understanding Thucydides.8 5 Perikles is not making the banal claim that he gives the right advice. Every politician would say that; he could hardly say he is wrong. The term 8 5 Gomme notes that the term ta deonta occurs in two important contexts in Thucydides: Thucydides’ methodological statement “I made [the characters] say what was to my mind ta deonta given the factors present on each occasion” (1.22.4); and also when Thucydides praises Themistokles’ intelligence “he was the best at improvising ta deonta”{1.138.3). Thucydides uses a similar term, Gomme says, in praising Antiphon’s intelligence {ha gnoie: 8.68.1). This passage contains remarkable similarities to the passages praising Themistokles and Perikles. Developments of this idea in more recent works include Rusten 1989 ad loc. and Farrar 1988:158-163. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 3 9 9 ta deonta gains significance from its association with Thucydides’ statement on historical method.8 6 Gomme uses the term to make a bridge between historical method and characters’ intelligence. More recent scholars, who are somewhat more interested in questions of audience reception, have chosen the second criterion. These scholars describe ways in which Perikles teaches the Athenians.8 7 Farrar and Crane turn Gomme’s insight around. Farrar describes four ways in which Perikles functions as an historian in his speeches. These four didactic functions are: analysis of present circumstances, appreciation of human instincts, of the people’s collective responsibility, and of the role of leadership. She discusses these Periklean roles in terms of Thucydides’ historical methods. Crane uses Perikles’ ideological function to illustrate Thucydides’ own ideological conception of realism.8 8 8 6 Gomme sees the association as deliberate. Since Gomme often asks questions about the authenticity of the speeches, the insight prompts him to declare: “I find these two sections [2.60.5-6], however, perhaps the most artificial thing in all Thucydides’ speeches, the farthest removed from actuality” (HCT 2:167). 8 7 See Farrar 1988:159-62, Yunis 1991:181-6, and Crane 1998:38-71. 8 8 Crane 1998:48-56. Crane is positing four kinds of realism in Thucydides; he calls these realisms “procedural,” “scientific,” “ideological,” and “paradigmatic.” He uses Perikles to illustrate ideological realism. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 0 Up to now, scholars have treated the first two of Perikles’ criteria as by far the most important; they consider the last two criteria as comparatively minor points.8 9 On my interpretation, all four criteria are equally important and profound. This is because they all link up to a single central idea: Perikles is the best at what he does. Perikles is, for Thucydides, the ideal adviser. All of the four criteria point to this conclusion. I now explore the third contention, that Perikles is philopolis-90 When Perikles claims to love the city, he means he understands the role the city plays in every citizen’s life. This point sums up Perikles’ claims at 2.40.2-4, that everyone depends utterly on the city, and that all citizens should define personal achievement in terms of the city’s 8 9 E.g. Yunis 1991:182. But some scholars do point towards the importance of the third and fourth criteria. Dewald 1985:56-7 suggests that Thucydidean characters are basically motivated by concern for their polis. Crane 1995:xiii and passim argues that Thucydides himself concentrates on the world of the polis, while excluding other types of motivation that we find in Herodotos (e.g. family, women, dreams, and pillowtalk). Perikles’ third criterion, that he is philopolis, counts as evidence for these views. 9 0 On Perikles’ claim to be philopolis, Gomme compares Alkibiades’ lack of patriotism (6.92.2-4), and in general the elite politician’s ability to appeal to the demos. Kimon. for example, was famous for welcoming the poor. Indeed, Plutarch (Kimon 10) states that xenoi as well as Athenian citizens enjoyed his hospitality. I am arguing that Perikles’ appeal is based on his own individual and unique qualities. Perikles is remarkable in being the best at what he did, as well as being the most popular. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 1 achievement. Perikles presents himself as a model citizen.9 1 Perikles does not mean, however, that all the citizens need to be exactly like him.9 2 Perikles is profoundly different from every other character in Thucydides. Specifically, Perikles’ speeches are remarkable in that he completely excludes personal interest from them. I suggest that Perikles is the most convincing because he has a personal connection with the city's interests. Perikles never expresses personal interests in his speeches. Every other speaker-including Kleon, Diodotos, Nikias, Alkibiades, and Brasidas— explicitly discusses his own personal stake in the advice he gives.9 3 In Perikles’ speeches, we 9 1 The idea of being a paradigmatic citizen links Perikles’ claim to be philopolis (2.60.5) with his famous exhortation to the people to become erastai of the city and to fix their eyes on its power (2.43.1). 9 2 Perikles consistently tells the assembly that he has authority over them only to the extent that they choose his advice over other people’s (1.140.4-5; 2.60.4, 7). He believes he is prominent only because they consistently judge his advice to be the best. Perikles only gives advice. The people actually make the policy decisions. Perikles is one among many people who step up and give advice at the assembly (cf. 1.138.1). Even if Perikles is overwhelmingly the most convincing, and the people pick his advice more often than that of all the other advisers combined, the people still have their choice. They are still in control, and consequently they are responsible for what Athens does. According to Perikles’ argument (2.60.4-7), the people are also responsible for the consequences of their decisions, such as their own suffering. 9 3 In order to appreciate the significance of this point, it is worth comparing Perikles with Diodotos. Several recent scholars, including Scanlon 1987, Farrar 1988:171-2, Orwin 1994, have seen Diodotos as the only wise and good Athenian politician after Perikles. However, on the question of the individual’s relation to the city, Diodotos has R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 2 cannot identify anything as a personal stake.9 4 He makes his recommendations exclusively on the basis of the city’s interest.9 5 Just as he exhorts the citizens to do, very different ideas from Perikles. Perikles believes that he, like all other citizens, must devote himself completely to the city and suppress any personal interests he might have (2.60.5). But Diodotos believes that the politician can have private interests, specifically personal profit. If a politician gives good advice to the city, Diodotos contends, it should not matter if he stands to gain personally from that advice (3.42.4-3.43.1). If we compare Perikles with Diodotos, we find that their disagreement is not a matter of profit but one of personality. Diodotos contrasts the accountability of politicians with the assembly’s lack of accountability (hypeuthunon . . . aneuthunon: 3.43.4). [f advice turns out badly, he adds, the people do not suffer as much as its original proponent (3.43.5). But Perikles argues at 2.60.3-4 that no individual should consider private suffering significant as long as the city remains strong. Perikles does not think private suffering is at all comparable to harm to the city. If Diodotos adhered to Periklean standards, he would not consider public penalties as real suffering. These speakers differ consistently on the relation of the individual to the state. Perikles does not think the individual holds for himself any rights, interests, responsibilities, enjoyments, needs, burdens or values. Diodotos introduces himself as a personality in his own case: the speech functions as a self-justification and a plea for sympathy. By contrast, Perikles does not consider his own present or future standing at all relevant to his argument. Perikles argues with remarkable consistency throughout his speeches that all the significant interests of individual citizens derive from the state. 9 4 I thank Carolyn Dewald for suggesting this point to me in conversation. 9 5 In his chapter on Perikles, Westlake fails to find any information in Thucydides which sheds light on Perikles’ personality (see especially 1968:30, 39-40). He sees this lack of personality as evidence that in the later parts of the History, Thucydides characterizes individuals more fully. In response to Westlake’s thesis, I suggest that Thucydides gives remarkably little personal detail about any of his characters. When we read Plutarch on Alkibiades, for example, we find there is a lot more to say about him as a personality than Thucydides lets on. Westlake compares Perikles’ resources speech at 2.13 to a “[British] government white paper.” But that list of material preparations is not R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 3 Perikles redefines his personality, values, interests and aims in terms of the city. In the Funeral Speech, he suggests that citizens of widely differing backgrounds can find ways to attach themselves to the city in this way (2.40.2-3, 2.42.4). Perikles is an adviser, while the people can fulfil their function by being carpenters, potters, educators, soldiers, and citizens.9 6 For Perikles, citizens who pay no attention to Athenian political decisions are useless (2.40.2, 2.63.3). Perikles emphasizes each citizen’s role in the political process. He uses his own personality to show how each citizen can contribute to Athens.9 7 necessarily an index of Perikles’ character. Westlake ignores, for instance, Perikles’ passionate devotion to the city of Athens. 9 6 Thucydides describes Perikles as the first citizen in what was nominally a democracy (2.65.10). On my interpretation, Perikles’ preeminence does not mean that he is like all the other citizens, only better. I am suggesting that Perikles is overwhelmingly the best at what he does. In Thucydides’ eyes, he is the ideal adviser. Perikles gives advice on specific occasions about current decisions. But his advice also lives in the future, in the sense that it fits many successive sets of circumstances. Perikles does not of course predict long sequences of events. His advice has general application in so far as it fits many unspecified future events. 9 7 Perikles is the ideal adviser in Thucydides’ judgment. Perikles does what he does uniquely well. The other citizens are not advisers themselves; those others who speak to the assembly have personal interests, and are not pure advisers. For Thucydides, Perikles is unique, and Athens only needs one of him. Thucydides does not think that Athens could only have achieved success if it were populated by clones of Perikles. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. The conflict between individual self-interest and the interest of the state is a common theme in Thucydides (2.65.9, 3.82.2, 6.16.2). Farrar discusses the way Perikles teaches the citizens how to identify their interests with those of Athens (1988:161 -3). As Farrar points out, ordinary characters would naturally think of their own fortunes first of all; Perikles’ achievement, then, is to teach the citizens another way of looking at individual interests and aims. Perikles shows the citizens that their safety and prosperity, and in fact everything which they value about their personal fortunes, depends on the city (2.60.2-4). In both the Funeral Speech and in his final speech, Perikles makes a firm connection between Athens’ goals and those qualities which individuals enjoy: freedom, influence, wealth, and glory. In the main structuring segment in the Funeral Speech (2.42.2), Perikles declares that by praising the city he is praising the men who made it great. The occasion requires Perikles to praise the men, and Perikles chooses to do this by describing the qualities of the city. Athens serves as an education to Greece; the citizens should gaze upon the power of Athens and become its lovers (2.41.1, 2.43.1). These claims show the people how the city plays a central role in their lives. They also show that when Perikles tells the people to focus on the city’s interests and not individual interests (2.60.2), he is not at all denying the value of R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 5 individual interests.9 8 He is exhorting the citizens to redefine them in terms of the city. Athens has power because all components of the city work towards the same end, and consequently all citizens should identify with the city’s goals. Farrar sees the relationship between individual goals and the city’s goals. These goals incorporate the people’s interests, qualities, and fortunes: Pericles argues that the fate of the polis must be every citizen’s first priority not only because his own survival depends on safeguarding the whole, but because the polis is itself great, magnificent, powerful and worth suffering for. Farrar 1988:161 Perikles connects the city’s qualities and individual attributes consistently throughout his speeches.9 9 Some of the claims I studied in the first section emerge in a new light 9 8 Homblower argues that Thucydides makes Perikles express “totalitarian” sentiments (1987:123-5, 179). He compares Perikles’ statements at 2.60.2-4 to those expressed by Kreon in Antigone and in the Republic of Plato: “Both for Plato and for Thucydides’ Pericles, the job of the statesman must be to calculate what will be the best for the community, regardless of the unhappiness of individuals.” {op. cit. 124). Does Perikles have no concern for the fortunes of individuals at all? It would be better to say that Perikles makes individual welfare absolutely dependent on the state. Those benefits to the state, conferred by each citizen, secure the only real prosperity that an individual can enjoy. 9 9 Farrar cites as examples 2.61.4, 2.62.3, 2.63.1, 2.64.3. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 6 when we grasp Farrar’s point. In my investigation of achievability arguments, I discussed the importance of having a common purpose. Perikles argues in the Funeral Speech that Athens’ power lies in its unity. He mentions Sparta’s need to bring in allies to attack other states (1.141.2), but he sees how this factor will favor Athens not only in specific military operations, but also throughout the whole war. He identifies Athens’ unity of purpose with its goal. Athens’ war aim is the same as its long term goal. Since Perikles is most in touch with the city’s interests and goals, he is best at articulating arguments about Athens’ long term future. This point can be detected in the first speech: Perikles suggests that by bringing in allies, Sparta will not be able to produce a policy for set goals, because each ally will have its own ideas about how far to pursue the war (1.141.7). By implication, Athens does not have this weakness.1 ™ 1 The fact that Athens has a single deliberative governing body means that, in his thinking, Athens will be able to exploit opportunities quickly when they occur (1.141.6). Perikles takes up the same theme explicitly in the Funeral Speech. There, he claims that Athens’ strength 1 0 0 Perikles argues that the Peloponnesians exhibit disunity on two levels. On the large scale, the Peloponnesian league is composed of individual states with different ideas about how to pursue the war; on the small scale, Sparta itself is composed of individuals who lack unity of purpose (1.141.6, 7). At 5.109 the Athenians at Melos maintain that Perikles’ first point still holds true in 416/15: the Spartans are particularly unwilling to go beyond their boundaries without allies to back them up. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 7 does not depend on secrecy or expulsions but on firmness of purpose (2.39.1-2). Perikles connects Athens’ unity with its openness.1 0 1 These two factors combined make Athens’ power evident to all. As Perikles says later, Athens uses its openness to advertise its intentions across the Greek world, and to make foreign lands constantly fear invasion by Athenians (2.41.4). In these arguments, Perikles asserts a link between interests and ultimate goals, and between goals and war strategy. He suggests that goals which are coherent, and which can be clearly articulated, have a power in themselves. In the Funeral Speech, Perikles sets operational points into a broader temporal context. He demonstrates the wider implications of specific military advantages, and suggests why they should bring a general advantage throughout the war. Perikles offers military unity as a principle of Athenian warfare. 1 0 1 It is true that Athens does not always act on its own in the war. Connor, for example, demonstrates that this theme becomes prominent in the catalogue in book seven (7.57- 9). Athens’ allies on Epipolai (7.42), and in naval battles with Korinth, appear to harm the force as a whole (3.78). However, Perikles is not focusing on specific operations in the Funeral Speech. Instead, he argues forcefully that Athens can contemplate pursuing a war effectively on its own, while Sparta cannot pursue the war unless it uses allies at every stage. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 8 Perikles’ fourth criterion, his freedom from corruption, contributes to the same idea. Perikles does not simply regard corruption as a bad thing in itself.1 0 2 Individual wealth is one of the main kinds of personal interest among Thucydides’ characters (2.65.9, 3.42.4, 6.15.2). Perikles suppresses these personal interests. We can look at Perikles’ contention from an intellectual point of view as well. For Perikles, good decision making depends on recognizing at all times how to relate the current situation to the city’s interests. Personal motives impede people’s vision of the city’s interests. Perikles has a unified purpose, just as the city has a unified purpose. Perikles suppresses personal interests because they divert attention from the city’s goal. According to Perikles, the city must be the essential guide to citizen behavior. I suggested in section two that many characters envision the distant future as a realm in which potential events are impeded by various factors, such as chance and voluntary human choices. They believe that the future becomes more visible if these obstructions are removed. Perikles’ view of Athens’ interests is like this. He seeks to minimize anything that could obscure his view of the city’s interests. All four of Perikles’ criteria for being a good politician, in fact, represent the unhindered pursuit of Athens’ goals. Devotion to the city means 1 0 2 Gomme argues that chrematon kreisson means to avoid making personal wealth an aim in political life. He suggests that both Themistokles and Alkibiades pursued their own wealth in this way (1.138.2, 6.16.2). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 0 9 suppressing any personal interests that do not contribute to the city. Because he sticks to this principle, Perikles believes he is uniquely qualified to analyze and expound ta deonta for Athens. Perikles shows citizens how to be good citizens without necessarily being experts in political analysis like himself. The most detailed of these alternative lifestyles is the description of the soldier. In the Funeral Speech, Perikles presents the soldier as a model of individual achievement (2.42.4). In the central tableau of the Funeral Speech, he describes the last thoughts of the soldiers before they die in battle. Just before, Perikles says that the speech as a whole praises the men by praising the city (2.42.2). In this central tableau, Perikles reverses the emphasis, and praises the city by praising the men. In a long series of antitheses and comparisons, the passage traces the soldiers' reasoning at the moment of death. It illustrates how they reject personal motives and aims, and recognize the city’s interests and goals in their own action. Perikles presents an ideal death for them, using his own style of reasoning. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 0 Many scholars have pointed out that the passage gives a dramatic illustration of Periklean values in action.1 0 3 It clearly reflects Perikles’ ideas about individual behavior and the city. Edmunds sees in the passage a consistent division between gnome and tyche.w He regards this antithesis as a characteristically Periklean view.1 0 5 My 1 0 3 Rusten 1989:164-8 gives an excellent introduction to the difficulties of this passage: Rusten 1986 covers textual issues; he maintains that the passage is not corrupt. Edmunds 1975:61-68 and appendix also gives an excellent interpretive discussion: see below. 1 0 4 Specifically, Edmunds 1975:60-65 believes the key to the passage lies in the claim that the soldiers are “released from chance.” Edmunds argues that this passage reflects the central antithesis in Perikles’ (and Thucydides’) thought between chance and intelligence. He sees in the Athenians’ choice to die an expression of the typical Athenian attitude to intelligence and chance: Patriotism of this sort is a release from fortune, because the city itself is considered to embody the values of the citizen so that he knows in advance— and all the more so if he risks his life in battle— that the individual mischance of his own death will not have destroyed what is most essential in him, his character as Athenian citizen. . . . This subjective or self-conscious Athenian patriotism differs from the Spartan habit of unreflecting obedience to the state. Edmunds 1975:67 In order to illustrate this thesis, Edmunds sets out nine pairs of expressions in this passage under the headings gnome and tyche {ibid. 63-65). Edmunds argues that Perikles rejects the traditional view that human life is subject to fortune, and that he praises the soldiers for choosing intelligent deeds which are “real” in place of hopes and things that are “unreal.” The traditional notion, which Edmunds describes well, associates tyche with “the future, desire, hope, words (as opposed to deeds).” While I agree with much of this discussion, I would suggest that Perikles does not reject all R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 1 argument is absolutely compatible with Edmunds’ view. However, my discussion points to a different antithesis. Edmunds claims that the soldiers reject hopes and wishes because they are not as “real” as Athens’ power and the gnome that lies behind it. Edmunds’ nine antitheses between gnome and tyche (see note 104) establish a distinction between reality and mere ideas. One of these antitheses is the following: eArnSt [ i s v t o c r a v e s t o u KaxopOcbaeiv E T r iT p e v p a v T E s , s p y c p Se TTEp'l TO U f j 5 f | OpCOUEVOU O q U O lV O U T O lj a ^ to O V T E S TTETTOlQsuat . . . . Having committed to hope the invisibility of future success, but resolving in action with respect to what was presently visible to trust in themselves .... 2.42.4, tr. Edmunds 1975:63 (c.l & c.2) things that are “out of sight.” Perikles accepts that certain future events are out of sight, like other intelligent warmongers, but believes that it is necessary to work as hard as one can to realize goals which are still contingent on future events. 1 0 5 Edmunds 1975:17 uses the opening of Perikles’ first speech to argue that Perikles sees chance in terms of the limits of human reason, rather than the other way around. This is a fine observation, but I would disagree with his contention that in Perikles’ view “Adverse luck is then understood as that which was unplanned, badly planed, or contrary to plan” (ibid.). Perikles frequently acknowledges that there are things in the future which cannot be planned. Perikles does indeed appeal to the variability of fortune in the opening of his first speech, as he does elsewhere (2.61.3, 2.62.5). When Perikles says, for example, that the plague was the one thing he failed to account for (2.61.3; cf. Edmunds 1975:73-75), he is speaking retrospectively, about the important factors which underlie the current situation in Athens. Perikles is saying that he was largely successful in predicting a general state of affairs (except for the plague), not that he can predict a series of events. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 2 While I accept Edmunds’ argument as a whole, I read this particular passage rather differently. According to Edmunds’ argument, the contrast between elpis and ergon gives the soldiers two options; they reject the elpis and embrace the ergon. On my reading, the soldiers view the whole of this phrase in positive terms.1 0 6 The first part of the phrase expresses the soldiers’ expectation that glorious death will contribute to the city’s long term goals {elpis, to aphanes), and the second part refers to their duty in the situation immediately at hand (to horomenon, ergon). I argued in the previous section that warmongers make a consistent division between the short term or "visible” future and the long term or “invisible” future. The invisible future is contingent on prior events or circumstances, while the short term future is not. Perikles uses to ciphanes here 1 0 6 Perikles uses the word katorthoun only once elsewhere, at 1.140.1. In this context he clearly uses the word positively, and in reference to Athenian success, rather than private success: “I think it just for you to support our common decisions, if we happen to meet a setback, or otherwise, if we are successful (katorthountas), not to claim a part in our intelligence.” Likewise, the Mytileneans promise “We will produce benefit from our success” (katorthdsai: 3.14.1), and Kleon asks “Do you think that there is any who will refuse to revolt on a trivial pretext when freedom accrues to the successful (katorthdsanti) and nothing terrible happens to those who fail?” (3.39.7). Each of these instances presents the successful achievement of a city’s goals in a defined struggle: Athens’ struggle against Sparta, and the allies’ struggle against Athens. As a further parallel with the present passage, all of these passages present success as a future notion. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 3 because he is describing the soldiers’ perception of Athens’ long term goals. The soldiers do not think that their death will lead directly to victory in the whole war. Athenian victory is still susceptible to tyche and the future course of events. But they do have a firmly grounded hope that the city will eventually win through the efforts of men like themselves. They are brought to a realization that they form part of a succession of Athenians who will sacrifice themselves for their state. On the other hand, the soldiers view death in battle as to hordmenon because, in their eyes, the prospect of death is immediate and noncontingent.1 0 7 In a sense, they view death as an immediate personal accomplishment. The soldiers see in the moment of their death that they are doing their duty to the state and achieving the glory they deserve. This achievement is in a sense personal. However, each soldier also sees that he is one of a whole army doing the same as he does, and that this army is just one of the many past, present, and future armies Athens sends out to achieve its goals. The state of Athens also recognizes how each man’s death contributes to Athens’ glory and to Athens’ prospects in the war. The soldiers redefine their notion of prosperity in terms of the success of their state rather 1 0 7 Thucydides, ever a master of unclear antecedents, does not tell us specifically what the soldiers see as “ro hordmenon.” On my reading, they see the prospect of death as to hordmenon, because they experience the whole sequence of thoughts in 2.42.4 at the moment they know they are going to die. Alternatively, they could regard the current battle itself as to hordmenon. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 4 than personal success {elpisploutou). The soldiers’ intelligence lies in their ability to visualize Athenian goals, and to see how their present action contributes to those goals. Of course, all this intelligence and insight is just Perikles’ own. He has projected his own ideas and personality as an ideal of civic action. In addition to the contrast between gnome and tyche, and between hope and secure expectation, this passage contains a powerful contrast between different notions of personal achievement. That is to say, Perikles praises the soldiers for rejecting their own future lives and prosperity. He praises them not just because they are future, nor because they are hopes and desires as opposed to real deeds, but because they are personal. Perikles praises the soldiers for accepting a death which gives prosperity to the city. The whole passage describes the replacement of personal interests with a single collective interest.1 0 8 1 0 8 In this passage Perikles presents contrasting focalizations of human motivation. Specifically, he contrasts personal motivations for individual action with city-oriented motivations. Perikles’ vocabulary juxtaposes one attitude with the other, often in paradoxical fashion. For instance, Perikles claims that these men “flee” a shameful reputation {ephygori), in the way the coward might flee danger; he also claims that the soldiers trust in the city’s “prosperity” rather than continuing to enjoy their personal wealth {katorthoseiri). In the first instance, Perikles implies that public shame is as fearsome as the enemy in battle, and therefore that to confront the enemy is to flee from R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 5 Perikles and the soldier have similar qualities, and each in his own way confers those qualities onto the city. One of those qualities is steadfastness. In the last speech, Perikles contends that the political leader must not let circumstances divert him from the right advice. Similarly, citizens must not let suffering divert them from taking the right course of action (1.140.1, 2.61.1). Perikles describes his four criteria in order to criticize the citizens for vacillating in the face of suffering (2.60.5). In the same way, the soldier must remain steadfast in the most critical circumstances (2.42-43). A second quality is rationality. The political leader, like the soldier, needs rational analysis in each specific situation to work out what course of action best fits the city’s interest. Perikles highlights this point using a pointed verbal reminiscence (gigndskein ta deontci: 2.43.1, 2.60.5). Perikles and the soldier also lack certain qualities. For instance Perikles is insensitive to the Athenian people, especially those who have lost land, homes, or relatives in the war (1.43.5; 2.60.2-4; 2.62.3; 2.44-6). But Perikles demonstrates a rational attitude towards suffering throughout his speeches. By presenting himself and disgrace. In the second case, Perikles evokes the city’s idea of prosperity, and contrasts it with an individual’s ideas about wealth {elpis ploutou). In both these instances. Perikles uses value terms naturally associated with individual motivation, and redefines them according to what we might call a “city focalization.” R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 6 the soldier as examples, he asks the citizens to adopt this attitude too.1 0 9 Perikles makes the case that the soldier, politician and artisan, whether rich or poor, can and must devote himself to the city.1 1 0 Throughout his speeches, Perikles shows how citizens demonstrate individual versions of the city’s actions and qualities. In the Funeral Speech, Perikles argues that the city derives its good qualities from its citizens, both the citizens making decisions at home and the soldiers fighting abroad. He claims that the soldiers’ ciretcii are the qualities to be praised in the city (2.43.1), and that men’s ways of life make Athens a 1 0 9 Perikles shows how each individual can himself embody the qualities of Athens as a whole. For instance, the adviser and the soldier display intelligent decision making as well as courage and enterprise. Similarly, Perikles’ praise of the city at the beginning of the Funeral Speech shows how each individual demonstrates these same qualities in his own daily life (2.38, 2.40). 1 1 0 Perikles divides the dead soldiers into the rich and the poor, and describes how each can have convincing motivations to pursue the city’s interests (Cf. Rusten 1986). He makes the same division of citizens in his discussion of political participation by citizens at 2.40.2. Rusten 1985 argues, on the basis of this difficult sentence, that Perikles describes three possible lifestyles, not two. In any case, Perikles concentrates on the unity of disparate groups, and tries to get the Athenians to recognize this unity as a crucial ingredient of Athenian policy making and power. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 7 bold city.1 1 1 Since Athens as a city is steadfast and unyielding, Perikles argues in specific situations that the Athenians must not yield (1.140.2-5, 2.63.1-3). Perikles comes closest to making an explicit connection between his own character and that of the polis in the following passage: ei 5’ dvayK aiov rjv t) Et^avTas eu0ug toTs tteXqs uTtaKoOaai f| KivSuveuaavTas TTEptyEVEaSat, o cpuycbv to u k(u5uvov to u UTT00TCCVT05 pEpiTTOTEpoj. Kai Eydb pev o auTog sipt tcai ouk E^taTapai- upsTs 5e pETajSaXXeTE. But if the only choice was between subm ission with loss of independence, and danger with the hope of preserving that independence,--in such a case it is he who will not accept the risk that deserves blame, not he who will. I am the same man and do not alter, it is you who change. 2.61.1-2, tr. Crawley This passage highlights two sides of Perikles’ role as political adviser. First, it demonstrates the way he links the individual and the city. In the first sentence Perikles explicitly associates the city’s choice with the individual’s.1 1 2 The first clause refers 1 1 1 Perikles makes this statement at 2.39.4 and 2.41.2. I translate tropoi as “ways of life” or “practices,” rather than “character.” Tropoi refer more accurately to particular traits, which may or may not collectively constitute a discrete character (e.g. homoiotropoi: 3.10.1). Cf. Rood 1998, Luginbill 1999. 1 1 2 Here Perikles does not suggest that Athenians would do differently from any other people. Instead, he uses an argument made at a number of points through out the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 8 specifically to the options available to Athens (hypakousai. . . perigenesthcii). But in the following clause, Perikles illustrates this choice by placing judgments on a hypothetical individual’s action. By this means, Perikles emphasizes each citizen’s role in civic decision making."3 Second, the passage shows how Perikles places the current decision into an historical context. In the second sentence of the quotation, Perikles claims he has a special role in holding the people to their responsibilities. The first sentence refers to Perikles’ reasons forgoing to war, which he gave at 1.140.3-5. This parallelism implies that the reasons for continuing the war are the same as those for starting the war two years earlier. In both speeches Perikles argues that making concessions will have disastrous long term consequences (1.140.3-5, 2.63.3). In the last speech Perikles argues that the people are overrating present factors, and are forgetting the long term reasons for war. Perikles asks the people to judge the current action against a broader historical background. The citizens should evaluate the present position in the light of their long History, one used apparently universally (at least of Greeks): that it is honorable to resist the aggressor, and dishonorable not to do so: cf. 3.11.2, 3.56.2, 4.61.5. 1 1 3 Perikles expresses the assembly’s choice by mixing vocabulary normally associated with states (e.g. hypakousai, eixantas, perigenesthai, hypostantos) with vocabulary that normally describes individual behavior (kinduneusantas, phygon). Perikles uses a similar mixture of vocabulary in his first speech (1.140.5). As Farrar points out (1988:162), Perikles is able to view the assembly either as a unity or a collection of individuals, and jumps nimbly between these views throughout his speeches. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 1 9 term goals. These goals have remained the same since they voted for war: to maintain the empire without interference from states such as Sparta. The decision to go to war, Perikles constantly emphasizes, reveals the character of Athens. Conversely, then, the decision to make peace with Sparta would jeopardize both Athens’ destiny and its character, since these notions are intertwined. Athens’ character as a city depends on the determination and unity of successive generations of citizens. Throughout his speeches Perikles makes policy a matter of character. By making the parallelism between the individual’s choice and the city’s choice, Perikles shows that Athens’ character is embedded in the character of the individuals who make choices for the city. And since Perikles holds the people to their long standing responsibilities, he among all citizens embodies the city’s character. While I showed in the first section that Perikles is an expert at logistical planning, I also argued that in this respect Perikles is not fundamentally different from other warmongers. However, the qualities I have demonstrated in this section go deeper than that, in two main ways. First, Perikles recognizes the relation between small scale analysis and large scale analysis. I have discussed in detail the way Perikles juxtaposes R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 0 the individual and the city. Perikles shows how individual action affects the city, and how city action affects the individual. This tight linkage is a fundamental part of Perikles’ overall case. Athens’ long term goals provide the basic reason for going to war. But in articulating those goals, Perikles also reveals how Athens should go about achieving them. Perikles suggests that the Athenians can gain eventual success by recognizing Athens’ unity, military strength, and psychological power in particular situations. The skilled politician also identifies choices and motivations on an individual level. Perikles is able to bind different people’s motivations and the city’s goals into a coherent argumentative unit. When making logistical arguments, by contrast, warmongers take account of both large and small factors, but they present each as factual points instead of making elaborate connections between the two. This difference basically reflects the contrast between a warmonger’s specific data and his overarching argument. Compared with other warmongers, then, Perikles makes a particularly elaborate and compelling overall argument. Thucydides has made clear through all his characters, and in his own voice, that achievability and goals form two distinct ideas about the future. But Perikles makes the most convincing association between them. Perikles argues that oniy the city as a whole has the power to achieve significant goals: for this reason, individuals should pursue the city’s goals rather than what they perceive R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 1 as their own goals. Moreover, Perikles presents Athenian victory as a goal to be achieved by psychological means; he shows each individual how by acting for the city he can achieve the city’s goal first and then his own. Perikles is able to describe Athenian goals in terms of achievability. The second difference is more important for my present argument. When making his arguments about Athens’ goals, Perikles injects a temporal dimension. The achievability arguments do not reveal this dimension. Perikles shows how Athens’ power can only be understood properly over time. He recognizes that the current decision forms part of a process which stretches both backwards and forwards through time. For the purpose of his analysis, Perikles sets Athenian victory and the achievement of its goals as the future limit of this process. The limit in the past is hard to set precisely; however, Perikles seems to regard Athens’ successful fight against the Persians as part of the same process (1.144.4, 2.61.4, 2.62.3). Perikles shapes all three of his speeches according to this analytical narrative. A couple of specific examples will illustrate the temporal dimension in Perikles’ arguments. The Funeral Speech shifts nimbly between the present and the future: for R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 2 example, Perikles describes the death of the soldiers (2.42.4) in order to inspire the survivors to maintain that same spirit in the struggles to come (2.43.1). And in the final speech, Perikles describes Athens’ naval superiority in such a way as to recall his presentation of Athens’ initial war aims (2.62.1-3; cf. 2.41.2-4, 1.140.2-4). Athens went to war to prove that the Peloponnesians could not limit Athens’ current power or restrict future expansion.1 1 4 Perikles now shows that in a way Athens possesses this ability already. This claim is rhetorically effective. Perikles characterizes Athenian goals in such a way as to emphasize their achievability. Perikles also uses references to the past to argue for a present course of action (1.144.4, 2.36, 2.61.4, 2.62.3, 2.64.3). On various occasions, he asks the Athenians to show the qualities their forefathers demonstrated in the Persian Wars: to rely on gnome and tolma (1.144.1); not to give in to disasters (2.64.3); to be willing to leave behind homes and land (hyparchonta: 1.144.4); and to “invest” people’s lives and incur suffering in order to make long term gains (2.63.1, 2.64.3). The ancestors have established an Athenian character, which can be seen in the death of the soldiers and in the enterprise Athens shows as a city (2.41.4, 2.42.4). This character must be preserved, 1 1 4 So, rightly, Cogan 1981:76. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 3 Perikles argues, because it is the foundation of Athens’ power, and because it underlies the Athenians’ present way of life (2.38-40, 2.43, 2.62.3-2.63.1). Perikles argues further that Athens’ past imposes concrete obligations on the current generation. Their fathers have set Athens on the road to empire; the current generation must continue that development or disaster will ensue (2.36.1-4, 2.63.2-3). Part of Perikles’ rhetorical function in these speeches is to remind the people how the present decision fits into the progressive development of Athens’ power.1 1 5 Perikles makes the Athenians recognize themselves in their ancestors, in the sense that the Athenians are pursuing the same goals. The description of the soldiers’ final thoughts reverses this perception. Perikles here makes the people recognize the soldiers’ qualities in themselves; by implication, Perikles describes the ancestors’ qualities too. I showed in the first section that power may exist in the inner workings of people’s minds. Other people’s expectations set a standard of achievement for Athens. Similar expectations make other people fear Athens’ military power (2.41.4, 2.43.2-3). When Athens undertakes a military 1 1 5 Perikles illustrates this point in the final speech with the following gnome: “For the judgment of mankind is as relentless to the weakness that falls short of a recognized renown, as it is jealous of the arrogance that aspires higher than its due” (2.61.4, tr. Crawley). Perikles argues elsewhere that the apragmon has no place in Athens (2.40.2, 2.63.2, 2.64.4). Again, Perikles admires individuals only to the extent to which they exhibit the qualities Athens needs. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 4 campaign, this action reminds other people of great deeds Athens did in the past. Perikles recognizes this natural mental process, and this is why he argues that it is necessary to keep others aware of Athens’ ambitions (2.62.3, 2.64.3). Throughout this study I have suggested that Thucydides presents psychological factors as important historical data in themselves. To Perikles, Athens’ power is heavily psychological, and as such it is one of the most important factors governing contemporary human events. These arguments demonstrate the scope of the third type of cognition in Thucydides, namely general knowledge. General knowledge incorporates operational expertise and psychological expertise. Both of those types of cognition can be seen in the achievability arguments: achievability arguments involve both tactical planning and considering the enemy’s goals. But Perikles’ arguments about goals are different from these. I have suggested two main differences above. Perikles combines different scales of analysis into a single unit, and he adopts a perspective which places current events within an overall progression. Both of these characteristics suggest a quite different intellectual approach from the achievability arguments. I have called the warmongers’ logistical analyses “achievability” arguments because these speakers use firm and R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 5 factual data to ground analysis of that type. They tackle the unknown future using what they consider achievable. In the arguments I explored above, however, Perikles uses Athenian goals as the basis of his analysis. That is to say, he tackles the future from the opposite end, and works backwards from that to Athens’ current situation. In terms of the object of analysis, this shift in perspective involves a move from the particular to the general. This type of analysis is not founded on specific and verifiable data. Perikles does articulate Athens’ goals or war aims in simple terms, but his description is not factual in the same way as is the logistical analysis. In the arguments I presented above. Perikles explains Athens’ goals using general themes, such as the Athenian character, the psychological nature of Athenian power, and the individual’s function within the city. These themes function as principles of warfare, and indicate how Athens can set about achieving its goals. Especially in the Funeral Speech and the last speech, Perikles selects specific data to illustrate these principles. Perikles is showing how to fit different sets of circumstances within the framework laid down by Athens’ goals. As we have seen, Perikles performs two types of analysis concurrently in his speeches: achievability arguments and arguments about goals. He ties up these arguments into a cohesive unit, yet he recognizes a basic distinction between them. I R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 6 argued in section two that warmongers consistently recognize the difference between long term analysis and short term analysis. This distinction allows Perikles to stress the general unpredictability of the coming war, and yet to maintain confidence in his own analysis. I submit that the distinction should also affect the way we assess his speeches. Perikles’ predictions about the long term future are not firm factual statements like his achievability arguments. I have suggested above that Perikles tries to set down principles of warfare which do not apply precisely to future events, but which apply generally over multiple engagements. Accordingly, I suggest that speeches should not be judged on the basis of their accuracy in predicting future events, but on the basis of their general application. I have argued in this section that Thucydides views Perikles’ speeches as examples of an ideal type of prewar analysis. The whole chapter is entitled “Putting Perikles into Practice” because I believe Thucydides presents the Athenian war effort, in his narrative, as Athens’ attempt to make the events of the war correspond to Perikles’ analysis.1 1 6 1 1 6 Thucydides at 2.65.10 blames the Athenians for failing to make the ergci of the war fit Perikles’ logoi; he does not blame Perikles for failing to produce logoi which apply to the subsequent erga. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 7 Many scholars have tackled the question of Thucydides’ judgment on Perikles, and they have come up with wildly differing judgments.1 1 7 To some extent, these judgments must take into account the fact that Athens eventually lost the war after 27 years. Critics have handled this problem in different ways. Some scholars praise Perikles because Athens broadly speaking followed his analysis in the first ten years of the war (Gomme HCT vol.l ad 1.144.1). Some suggest that Perikles’ speeches sound tragically ironic in the light of Athens’ defeat twenty-seven years later (e.g. Connor 1984:36 n.36). Some scholars exculpate Perikles on the grounds that all of his conditions for success were broken during the course of the war (Holladay 1978, Cogan 1981:98,278 nn.15,17). Others convict Perikles on the grounds that it was impossible, practically speaking, to adhere to Perikles’ principles (Stahl 1973:61). These different judgments show how difficult it is to fit a complex and extended historical process with a prospective analysis of that process. It illustrates the difficulty of applying general ideas to particular events. Each of these judgments depends on selecting events with which to compare Perikles’ statements. Three of these judgments include Athens’ 1 1 7 Scholars tend to identify Thucydides’ judgment on Perikles with their own views of the man. Few now argue that Thucydides was actually wrong in his judgment on Perikles. Wade-Gery, however, calls Thucydides a “devout disciple” of Perikles, suggesting that Thucydides’ judgment was too rosy. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 8 eventual defeat. In the opinion of the majority of commentators, Thucydides could not reconcile the brilliant rationality of the age of Perikles with Athens’ eventual defeat; they suggest that this is why the eighth book lacks speeches, or why Thucydides gave up writing his History altogether. The argument I have set out above suggests a different way of assessing Perikles’ speeches. Thucydides shows us that it is extraordinarily difficult to predict coming events. Perikles has created a very elaborate and powerful analytical approach, and yet even he does not come close to predicting the future. Thucydides does not expect him to. I have argued that Perikles’ speeches are valuable for their general application, rather than their accuracy in predicting specific events. Thucydides does seem to expect all his warmongers to make confident and accurate predictions when they discuss tactical material. Thucydides can hold his characters to this standard because he believes in the human capacity to acquire tactical skills, to spot patterns in psychology, and to react to other human characters. Within the limits of operational and psychological expertise, each warmonger makes confident predictions. But the adviser’s main task is to deliver long term analysis. All warmongers think the war will be long R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 2 9 and difficult. They do not overrate their ability to predict the future. They produce the best reasons they can for thinking they will eventually win. Perikles uses a combination of achievability arguments and goal oriented arguments to deal with the exceedingly difficult task of predicting remote future events. As I showed in section two, warmongers are painfully aware of the hazards of long term analysis. Most scholars have tended to overrate Perikles’ logistical skills relative to his peers, and they have tended to underrate his long term judgment. I now show the way Thucydides tackles questions of prediction and Perikles’ analytical skill in his “obituary” of Perikles at 2.65. This passage contains two particularly relevant claims. At 2.65.10-11 Thucydides criticizes Perikles’ successors for fighting among each other, and for basing policy on considerations foreign to the purpose of the war. Thucydides has shown, in his presentation of Perikles, that the skilled adviser must produce tight overall arguments based on the state’s goals. As I argued in this section, Perikles strips away all factors that are irrelevant to the purpose of the war. His analysis does not recognize personal interests or any other features that might detract from its quality and clarity. Thucydides presents this analysis as an ideal, as the words of the best adviser Athens ever had (2.65.9). The following section explicitly blames the successors for not R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 0 observing that ideal in practice, rather than suggesting that there was something unattainable about that ideal.1 1 8 Thucydides does not claim that Perikles’ successors are stupid or intellectually limited. Kleon and Alkibiades, for example, make relatively convincing cases for their own points of view, at least in their achievability arguments. Warmongers constantly recognize the difficulty of making convincing strategic predictions about future events. The other speakers in the History are intelligent also, and they produce sound and rational arguments for their own point of view. However, they find it exceedingly difficult to interpret events according to Perikles’ own principles of warfare because the events themselves exist on a particular level, while Perikles’ advice exists on a general level. Only the most remarkable intellects in Thucydides have the capacity to produce analyses which continue to apply to much later events; Perikles achieves this by articulating a powerful vision of Athens’ goals. Thucydides recognizes that it is just about impossible to put Perikles’ principles into action, because events are so hard to 1 1 8 There is a problem with Perikles’ reasoning, however, in that he expects the Athenian assembly to be independently intelligent. I discuss this in the conclusion of the dissertation. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 1 interpret. Nevertheless, Thucydides believes that Athens’ failure must be attributed to the successors, not to Perikles. In 2.65.12 Thucydides advances another argument for this view. He lists the ways in which the events of the war gradually diverge from Perikles’ principles of warfare.1 1 9 Kallet-Marx argues against most scholars that Thucydides’ real intention in this section is not to explain away Perikles’ apparent failure, but to show just how far into the war Perikles’ analysis holds up: All of these debilitating factors [the lack of quality in Athens’ subsequent leaders, the Sicilian expedition, internal faction, Persian chremata for the Lakedaimonians’ nautikon, and revolts among allies], even combined, could not fatally deplete Athens’ resources. Kallet-Marx 1994:117, her emphasis 1 1 9 Parry 1972 claims that Thucydides must have seen a contradiction between the result of the war and the thoroughly rational Perikles he presented in the first two books. Connor 1984:73 argues that Thucydides does not subscribe to the view that if the Athenians had followed Perikles’ advice, Athens should have won the war. “The failure to follow Periclean leadership . . . is not a simple mistake or moral deficiency on the part of the Athenians but the result of a conflict between the Periclean demand for restraint and tranquility and the innately restless character of the Athenians.” Cf. Stahl 1973:61. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. On this view, Perikles is not responsible for Athens’ downfall, nor is there anything lacking in his analysis.1 2 0 Nobody could be expected to predict the course of the war from its outset, and even those engaged in the war find it hard to make the events fit their state’s true interests. But Perikles’ analysis of Athenian resources is remarkable because it lasts so long, given the forces that eventually work against it. I agree with Kallet-Marx’ interpretation of this passage. The arguments in the last two sections suggest how Thucydides could have arrived at this conclusion about Perikles. These arguments also underscore the extreme difficulty of predicting the long term future. I have argued throughout this study that subsequent events do not ultimately prove characters’ ideas right or wrong. Instead, as Kallet-Marx suggests, we should view Perikles’ ideas as extraordinarily powerful. 1 2 0 Cf. Connor 1984:62-63 & n.30. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 3 P art F o u r G eneral K no w led g e In the last section I showed how Perikles uses a goal oriented mode of analysis. Perikles expounds a strategy tied exclusively to the interests of the state, and he intends this strategy to apply to the changing circumstances of the war. Perikles does not think he can predict the specific events of the coming war. But he thinks that by accurately defining Athens’ goals, he can show the people how to achieve success in the war by recognizing Athens’ true interests in each situation. I have suggested that Perikles possesses general knowledge, the third and most intellectually demanding type of cognition in Thucydides. In this section I move away from Perikles, and look at the way general knowledge is played out in the later narrative of the war. While Perikles is the supreme practitioner of general knowledge, other characters display this type of cognition also, at least at times. General knowledge allows a character to make predictions that hold true long into the future. I have argued in this chapter that achievability arguments and arguments about goals are complementary modes of analysis. The former moves from small known factors to larger less known conclusions. The latter moves from large future questions to conclusions about the present situation. Achievability arguments, while not completely objective, are more realistic in nature; arguments about goals are more subjective. The most intelligent characters in R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 4 Thucydides can combine these modes of analysis. Characters who combine these modes of thinking in a convincing fashion possess general knowledge. On the level of achievability arguments Perikles is an expert, but so are the other warmongers in Thucydides. The tables and discussion in section one show that the basic tactical arguments of Perikles are quite similar in nature and quality to those of the Korinthians and the Mytileneans. It is quite possible to look at the other speeches for war in the same way: those of Archidamos and Sthenelaidas, the Kerkyraian Debate, the Melian Dialogue, and the Sicilian Debate. All of these speeches employ achievability arguments, and in each case the speaker demonstrates considerable military expertise. Furthermore, these speakers are all good at predicting tactical moves in the war.1 2 1 Each speaker takes care that his analysis is cogent and faithful to the circumstances. Though Perikles arguably sets out his categories of analysis more explicitly than other speakers, all others use those same categories. They interpret various factors, both material and 1 2 1 This point can best be seen in the references to the fortification of Attika. This strategy is mentioned in the speeches by Archidamos (1.80.4), the Korinthians (1.122.1), and Perikles (1.142.4); later, Alkibiades specifically instructs the Spartans to fortify Dekeleia (6.91.4-5). Thucydides confirms at 7.28 that Sparta’s year-round occupation of Attika played an ultimately decisive role in the Peloponnesian War. In a sense, the characters know how to win the war, or at least how the war will eventually be won. However, they do not know how to put this plan into practice. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 5 psychological, as strengths and weaknesses in the future conflict. An obvious conclusion presents itself. The speakers use this mode of analysis because they are warmongers. That is to say, Thucydides views achievability arguments as the appropriate type of analysis for people advocating long term and ultimately uncertain policy. It is not hard to see why the speakers analyze the situation in this way. When they recommend war, the speakers know that they are starting a process which will last a long time, and which will involve a large number of different people and states. From the warmonger’s perspective, this process is incomprehensibly complex as a whole. But he can break the whole into pieces of analysis, each of which rests on some relatively well known factor. These individual analyses reach a certain distance into the future, and allow the speaker to make some relatively firm predictions about it. Achievability arguments thus represent one common way of tackling the unknown future. Within limits, they are demonstrably successful. Perikles’ goal oriented method of analysis starts with an ultimate ideal, and work backwards through the unknown future to the current situation. Other speakers articulate questions of war in the same way. I have argued that warmongers must do this R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 6 to persuade a nation to go to war. However Perikles seems to go beyond most other warmongers: he describes Athens’ goals in great detail, and he also presents them in such a fashion that the audience can easily recognize them and pursue them. In this respect the Mytilenean and Korinthian speeches suffer by comparison. The Mytileneans offer the Spartans the chance to deliver on their promise to free Greece (3.13.1). They give the best reasons they can muster for thinking they will have an advantage in the war. However, the argument has limits. Their predictions are predicated on the Spartans’ accepting their offer of alliance. More significantly for my present argument, they identify their goals completely with victory in war. They know, like all other warmongers, that the course of the war will be uncertain. While their achievability arguments are very sound, the Mytileneans present victory as their ultimate goal. Unfortunately, they also present that goal as an ultimate standard of achievement, as a way to interpret all the particular achievements in the war. In the absence of an argument breaking their goals down into achievable individual components, as Perikles does in his Funeral Speech, the Mytileneans cannot successfully bridge the gap between the realm of the achievable and the realm of goals. The Korinthians, like the Mytileneans, identify goals with victory in war. They ask the audience to contemplate the freedom and comfort of the peace which follows war (1.120.3, 1.124.2). But their R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 7 argument displays the same limits as the Mytileneans’ speech does. They produce sound achievability arguments and give strong reasons for thinking they will not lose the war. Both of these speeches are limited in their articulation of goals. However, I would hesitate to call these limits weaknesses. They are both extremely effective speeches for the occasion on which they are delivered, they display sound achievability arguments, and they also present a possible future context for interpreting current action and analysis. They should not be considered bad speeches. These speeches exhibit the same limitations that afflict anyone planning for the future.1 2 2 Perikles’ arguments about goals are different from the Korinthians’ and Mytileneans’. As I argued in the last section, Perikles is able to present Athens’ goals in such a way as to make them seem achievable. Perikles’ arguments can also be applied to specific military situations. However, as the career of Demosthenes has shown, knowledge is not self-explanatory.1 2 3 It is hard to guarantee the results of knowledge, as 1 2 2 Stahl 1966 passim describes in detail how men’s plans go awry in Thucydides’ History. I have discussed this “pessimistic” view in chapter two. 1 2 3 See especially table #1 (page 115) and the discussion of Demosthenes’ career in part three of chapter one. Both Demosthenes and Phormion achieve expertise in specific kinds of warfare, but they cannot know in advance exactly how their planning will play out in the event. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 8 even good generals like Demosthenes and Brasidas find out. Nevertheless, Thucydides suggests that the reader can understand Perikles’ principles, as expounded in his speeches, and apply those principles judiciously to the later war (1.22.4).1 2 4 Theoretically the later characters could have done this, but they did not (2.65.10). In this sense, Perikles presents Athenian victory as achievable. On the other hand, Perikles does not offer victory in war as the ultimate validation for his own arguments. As I have shown above, his arguments are fashioned to show that Athens can win the war over Sparta, and to show how in general to go about doing this. As Kallet-Marx observes. Perikles’ arguments do not guarantee that Athens will achieve that goal. Perikles is not confident that Athens will in fact be victorious. Perikles mentions other possibilities in the future. As many scholars have noted, Perikles mentions the pessimistic possibility of Athens losing its empire (2.64.3). On the other hand, Perikles frequently mentions a wildly optimistic possibility: of world domination (2.38.1, 2.41.4, 2.43.1, 2.62.2, 2.64.3). Neither of these possibilities serves as a particularly realistic or achievable prospect in the future. All of Perikles’ arguments relate to the ultimate goal of victory in war over Sparta and of avoiding defeat. Perikles presents victory in this war as Athens’ 1 2 4 1 argue this point, and discuss the crucial passage 1.22.4, in the conclusion of this study. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 3 9 main goal, and his achievability arguments relate to this goal in particular. But in a looser, less confident sense, Perikles asserts that Athens could look beyond the current war to larger victories in the future. Practically speaking, Perikles is content with ruling the largest number of Greeks, and controlling the largest area of the Greek world (2.64.3). By presenting Athenian goals in this way, Perikles shows the people that to an extent Athens has achieved the goal of world domination already. Athens is supreme at advertising its intentions, Perikles argues, and these ambitions exert power over the whole world. Perikles believes that intentions, when recognized, constitute psychological power.1 2 3 1 2 3 The argument in this paragraph forms my reply to the posthumously published Parry 1972, which I believe to be one of the best articles ever written on Thucydides. At the end of this paper, Parry wrestles with the tension between Perikles’ supreme intelligence and the result of the war. Parry’s final response to the problem runs as follows: The second consideration is deeper. It is the foreknowledge of Athens’ defeat which Thucydides attributes to Pericles in his Last Speech. There the historian suggests that there is a valid sense in which it does not matter whether Athens falls or not, because the quality of her memory will remain; and that Pericles was clearly aware of this sense. As conception in the present becomes fact in the past, in this case the uniqueness of Athenian power at one moment in history stays alive in the present as concept. In this way, Periclean Athens does escape the grim system which Thucydides develops as the intellectual foundation of his narrative. Because Athens under Pericles remains an ineffaceable image R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 0 General knowledge is the ability to combine achievability arguments and arguments about goals. I have argued that Perikles is supreme at general knowledge, since he can make a convincing intellectual bridge between the current situation and Athens’ future ambitions. This means Perikles can see how to go about achieving them, though he cannot predict events or guarantee success. According to this view, general knowledge is not validated by specific events, even monumental ones such as victory in war. I have argued that general knowledge applies in a different, more general way to subsequent events. Perikles identifies how Athens’ power can be an ongoing factor in the war. In the first speech, he advocates strategies designed to preserve this ongoing preeminence: in particular, to avoid land battle with the enemy, to preserve the fleet so Athens can both control the allies and attack the Peloponnesians, and to avoid extending in the mind, the city is truly invincible, and to fix this image is precisely the purpose of Thucydides’ account. Parry 1972:61 I would suggest that Perikles’ idea of a glorious Athens does not just exist in the minds of his contemporaries and in the imaginations of their descendants. I have argued that Perikles’ ideas also have a tangible psychological effect on others, particularly on those who stand in Athens’ way. Perikles suggests how to achieve Athens’ goal. If Athens can subject others to Athens’ power on a mental level, it is half way to subjecting them in reality. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 1 the empire while fighting the war (1.144.1, cf. 2.13.2). Scholars such as Holladay 1978 have tended to single out Perikles’ statements about war strategy, and to use them as a standard for testing the events of the war. But this method underrates their true depth and weight. I have shown that Perikles gives these statements as part of a compelling overall argument about Athenian strengths and goals. In particular, all of his statements incorporate both the general and the particular. The achievability arguments mark out specific tactical points, but they apply to more than one engagement; in this sense, they move from the particular to the general. And Perikles’ arguments about goals move from the general to the particular. Once we recognize the way the general and particular interact in his arguments, we can appreciate the true nature of Perikles’ war strategies. He wants to get the Athenians to interpret events for themselves, to see how his own principles of warfare will apply in the manifold particular situations to com e.1 2 6 This is not a case of memorizing a phrase and applying it to later events. We need to 1 2 6 For example, Perikles uses the example of the example of the Persian War at the end of his first speech (1.144.4). But this example could be used as an incitement to go out and fight the enemy face to face. Perikles carefully steers away from that implication in the speech: he shows how the Athenians resisted a greater power by using good judgment, not facing them head on (with dynamis). Then, as now, the Athenians gave up inessentials, and made the most of their resources. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 2 understand the assumptions and arguments which lie behind general statements before applying them to specific events. General knowledge is not easy to test. Since Perikles’ speeches do not attempt to predict particular events, it is hard to prove their validity by reference to later events in the war. We need to identify some general correspondence between his analysis and the later course of events. Perikles’ analysis can however be assessed effectively if we compare it to another later analysis. I have established that Perikles’ analysis remains essentially the same between his first and last speech, even though circumstances have changed much in the meantime. Ideally, of course, Perikles wishes his analysis to hold good throughout the course of the whole war. If we compare the later speeches about the conduct of the war with Perikles’ speeches, we can then ask whether the Athenians and Spartans act for the reasons Perikles suggests they should. Perikles makes complex calculations about human behavior in his speeches. In the course of the war people interact in complex ways, and they make complicated and unpredictable choices: nevertheless, we can expect Perikles to focus on the essential factors that govern human behavior during the war. Perikles appears to be successful in doing this. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 3 In what follows, I illustrate Perikles’ principles of warfare by reference to the Melian Dialogue. This would not be an obvious point of comparison for all readers of Thucydides. Scholars have noticed resemblances between Perikles’ speeches and the Melian Dialogue before; however, most of them see the Melian Dialogue as an example of a general decline in Athenian morality and as an expression of naked brutality.1 2 ' On this view, the Melian episode illustrates both Thucydides’ judgments on Perikles’ successors (2.65.7-11), and his remarks on the effect of war and revolution on human behavior (3.82.2). However, if we look closely at the arguments used by the Athenians, they seem to be little different from those used by Perikles. Both in thought and 1 2 7 See in particular Macleod 1974 and Crane 1998. Andrewes 1960 also reflects a traditional standpoint. He points out differences in tone between Perikles and the Melian Dialogue; Andrewes argues that the Melian Dialogue represents a later stage in Thucydides’ own thought on the nature of empire, in which he tries to reconcile the admiration expressed by Perikles with the impression that “there was something violent and nasty about it.” But I have shown that Perikles is perfectly candid about its violent consequences, and I believe Andrewes fails to show any deep incompatibility between the two parts of the History. Pouncey 1980 gives a somewhat more moderate view, arguing that Thucydides’ own judgment was also hardened by the war. He notes (1980:84) that Perikles’ language at 2.64.6 and 2.43.1 closely resembles in tone the Athenians’ “justification of empire” in Sparta (1.76.2) and the Athenians’ claim at 5.89 that the strong naturally rule the weak. Pouncey gives the most extensive argument that Thucydides records a progressive decline in human behavior throughout the war. "The fact of the escalating violence under pressure of war or revolution is, Thucydides believes, universal and inescapable.” (1980:93). He observes that Thucydides does not simply condemn violence, but treats it as a natural outgrowth of power and especially war (1980:84). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 4 vocabulary, the Melian Dialogue seems remarkably Periklean. This is not to say that Thucydides approves of the Athenian case at Melos; he clearly regrets the violence imposed by war. However, Thucydides seems to have more sympathy for the Athenian case than for the Melians.1 2 8 In this dialogue, the Athenians attempt to apply Periklean principles of warfare to the particularities of the current situation. Several passages within the Dialogue seem remarkably parallel to the arguments I investigated in the last section. The following examples show that the Athenians appreciate the intellectual system that lies behind Athenian power. Athens exerts psychological power— it has interests all across the Greek world, and it is a particular threat to places which are accessible by sea (5.99, 109 ~ 2.41.4, 2.43.2-3, 2.62.2).1 2 9 Athens likes to send forces all over the world simultaneously, and will not withdraw forces in one place because of fear of attack in another (5.111.1 ~ 2.39.3). Athens likes to attack people on its own. 1 2 8 Bosworth 1993 argues in the Athenians’ favor, against scholars such as those cited above. Bosworth observes that the Athenian decision to subject Melos is strictly irrelevant, since that decision was taken by the people in Athens. The current delegation is charged with putting that decision into action. Accordingly, the Athenians give the Melians the option of capitulating and being spared; by refusing this offer, the Melians place the Athenians in the position of having to carry out their threat to destroy the city. 1 2 9 I list the references to the Melian Dialogue first because I am using the main Athenian arguments in the Melian Dialogue to structure the discussion; I then illustrate the parallels to Perikles’ speeches. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 5 whereas Sparta must summon allies to attack Attika, or even its own neighbors (5.109 - 1.141.2-6, 2.39.1). The hegemon must be hated--Athens’ power would decline if states no longer fear it (5.95, 5.99 ~ 2.63.2-3, 2.64.5). Athens is the only power whose subjects and victims do not consider it an unworthy master and victor (5.111.4 — 2.41.3). Athens can only be effectively attacked by prizing allies away from it (5.91.1, 5.111.1 ~ 1.143.5, 2.62.2-3). A state must not yield to its equals (5.111.4 ~ 1.140.1. 1.144.2, 2.61.3, 2.62.2-3, 2.64.6), and should be moderate towards inferiors (5.111.4 ~ 2.40.4). The Athenians appreciate the principles which Perikles expounded, and demonstrate that Perikles’ analysis still applies after fourteen years.1 3 0 1 3 0 It is also possible to find Periklean parallels to the Athenian claims about the way other states fit into this analysis of Athenian power. Perikles claims that states with ambitions which go beyond their military capability are rightly despised {me prosekouses: 2.61.4). The Melians not only do this by resisting illogically (5.111.3). but they also fail to recognize that Athens' naval superiority stakes a claim on any island region (me prosekouses: 5.110.2, cf. 5.99, 5.109). It is important to base strategy on an assessment of relative strength, rather than by attacking the enemy’s strong points (5.101 ~ 1.143.2). Ethical motivations like andragathia do not have weight in themselves; they must depend on military strength, or they will lead to disaster or subjection (5.101 ~ 2.63.2). For a ruling power and its individual representatives, elpis and aischyne are useful qualities, provided they are accompanied by confidence, recognition of ta deonta, and genuine courage (2.42.4, 2.43.1). However, elpis is disastrous when these conditions do not obtain (5.103); and to aischron is merely an empty name if it makes no sense to fight {onoma epagdgon 5.111.3). But Perikles claims that for Athens, to aischron requires individuals to function together as a unit in the interests of the whole, and that this ensures its power (2.43.1). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 6 These parallels do not prove that Perikles’ analysis exactly fits the Melian situation, however. Scholars have often seen a difference in tone and attitude between Perikles and the Athenian generals.1 3 1 But as I have argued above, Perikles does not disguise the violence and suffering brought by Athenian rule. Another objection to this parallel is made on grounds of strategy. Specifically, the Athenian reasons for attacking Melos seem to go against Perikles’ warnings at the beginning of the war. “By extending the empire we become safer” they claim (5.97). Alkibiades uses a very similar argument in the Sicilian Debate.1 3 2 This argument illustrates the difficulty of applying general arguments to particular situations. The Athenians may seem to be going directly against 1 3 1 E.g. Andrewes 1960, cf. Pouncey 1980:92. 1 3 2 Alkibiades argues, like the generals at Melos, that if Athens does not expand its empire, it will risk collapse: It is not possible to regulate the extent to which we want to rule, but it is necessary for us, since we are in this situation, to plot against some, and to refuse to let others go, because of the danger of being ruled by others if we do not ourselves rule over them. 6.18.3, tr. Crawley R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 7 Perikles’ prohibition on extending the empire (1.144.1, 2.65.7).1 3 3 However, when we look more closely, Perikles’ words seem more nuanced than this. First of all, on both occasions Perikles prohibits expansion while fighting the war. Though Thucydides claims explicitly that the war continued through the Peace of Nikias (5.26.2), at the time of the Melian Dialogue or the Sicilian Debate it would clearly have been possible to argue that the Athenians were no longer actively fighting the Spartans. Second, Melos has been the object of Athenian attention during the Archidamian War (3.91.1, 3.94.1), and it clearly fits into Perikles’ aggressive strategy of ringing the Peloponnese with 1 3 3 Perikles sets out two conditions on success: “if you do not try to extend the empire while fighting the war, and if you do not voluntarily set dangers in front of you” (1.144.1). In general I believe Gomme’s interpretation of this passage holds up against Holladay 1978:415: Perikles would have condemned the Sicilian expedition under the first heading (for though Athens was not then actually at war with the Peloponnese, peace was very doubtful, as Nikias points out), the Aitolian adventure of Demosthenes and perhaps the Delion campaign under the second. There is no reason to suppose that he would have opposed the Kythera and Pylos expeditions. Gomme HCT 1:462 The Melos expedition is not, to be sure, like Pylos and Methone, since Athens attempts to make Melos a tribute paying ally. But it would not place a significant extra burden on the empire. The Athenians justify the campaign with the claim that Melian friendship would be more harmful than its enmity (5.95). Few scholars have taken this claim at all seriously. The Athenian fear of Melos, I suggest, incorporates both Athens’ aggressive strategic reasons for intervention, and its concerns about empire management. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 8 fortified outposts (2.7.3, cf. 1.142.4).1 3 4 Third, Perikles does recognize that Athens should expand its empire in the future (2.41.4, 2.64.3-4), and that Athens’ power depends on the threat of invasion (2.41.4, 2.43.1, 2.64.5). If Athens relinquishes this threat, its empire will be destroyed (2.63.1). These claims do not exactly contradict Perikles’ statements on war policy, but they do reveal a certain tension within Perikles’ overall argument. Perikles’ ideas about the role of threat and Athenian safety may in practice pull in different directions. But Perikles anticipates this problem. He does not think it will be easy for the Athenians to come up with the right policy on their own, and for this reason he insists on his own value as advisor (1.140.1, 1.144.1-2, 2.60.1-7). In Perikles’ view, particular events are hard to interpret. Accordingly, Perikles does not think that his statements on policy can easily be applied to any single situation. The Melian Dialogue illustrates this difficulty, and at the same time demonstrates the ongoing power of Perikles’ reasoning. 1 3 4 Thucydides claims at 2.7.3 that the Athenians’ strategy is to encircle the Peloponnese with fortified posts— specifically Kerkyra, Kephallenia, Akamania and Zakynthos. These places are mostly under Korinthian control. During the Archidamian War, the Methone, Kerkyra, Melos, Pylos, and Kythera expeditions, as well as the naval operations around Naupaktos, all seem designed as a part of this strategy. Holladay 1978:415 however claims that Perikles has no offensive strategy at all. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 4 9 There is one other warmonger in Thucydides whose analysis holds up after a long period of time: Hermokrates. It is worth looking into him because he emerges as Perikles’ only rival in terms of long term analysis. Nine years separate Hermokrates’ speech at Gela (4.59-64) from the speeches at Syracuse and Kamarina (6.33-4, 6.76-80). This separation is useful as evidence of a character’s analysis over time. Again, the particular occasion of each speech prescribes their contents to some extent. Nevertheless, we can detect reflections of the Gela speech in the two later speeches. Moreover, some of his arguments seem remarkably similar to Perikles’ though they are adapted to the peculiar conditions obtaining in Sicily. For example, Hermokrates’ speech at Gela centers around the contention that Sicily is an entity in itself, which has its own interests and needs its own policy.1 3 3 As many scholars have pointed out, 1 3 3 Westlake 1958 gives a very important discussion of Hermokrates’ speech at Gela, focusing on the way he treats the whole island of Sicily as a city, and its component cities as citizens of this larger city. Using this powerful metaphor, Hermokrates gets the other cities to realize that Sicily is the whole which preserves the safety of its members: the individual cities, like Syracuse, must make personal compromises in order to ensure the integrity of Sicily as a whole (4.61.2). In this way, Hermokrates establishes an argument about wider goals and interests which resembles Perikles’ arguments about the city of Athens. Hermokrates however restricts this argument to the question of defense; he does not argue, like Perikles, that this idea applies to everyday life. While Hermokrates believes “the city” of Sicily gives its people safety, Perikles believes the city gives its citizens everything of value in life. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 0 Hermokrates uses the metaphor of a city to describe Sicily.1 3 6 He portrays the individual states as citizens within this city.1 3 7 Hermokrates makes this association for the purposes of defense: just as an individual citizen’s safety depends on the city, the cities of Sicily gain safety from the island as a whole. This same idea underlies Hermokrates’ proposal in the speech at Syracuse to mount a naval attack against the Athenians from Taras in Italy (6.34.4-8).1 3 8 Such a plan, he contends, gives them two major practical advantages: they can rival the Athenians if they are united, and they are so to speak “at home”(6.34.5; 6.33.5). Taras gives them the equivalent of home court advantage.1 These arguments correspond to the achievability arguments I studied in section one. 1 3 6 Major discussions can be found in Westlake 1958 and Connor 1984. 1 3 7 As Connor 1984:123 has pointed out, Hermokrates builds a strong case by opposing the interests of individual cities to their collective interests. Just taking the first three chapters of his speech, Hermokrates treats cities as individuals with the words hekateroi prassontes (4.59.3) ison hekastoi, idia (4.59.4), idion (4.60.1), and telesi tois oikeiois (4.60.2). He refers to the collective interests of Sicily with the words Sikelia pase (4.59.1), ten pasan Sikelian (4.60.1,4.61.2), ha koinei kektemetha (4.61.3), and to koinosphoberon (4.61.6). This contrast in vocabulary underlies Hermokrates’ claim that the wars among the cities are just as dangerous as stasis within a single city. 1 3 8 Taras is the Roman Tarentum, and the modem Taranto. 1 3 9 For Hanson’s concept of home court advantage, see note 46. Hermokrates describes this location as “home” partly because the Sicilians can use Taras as a base, but more importantly because they control the shore; this is a major factor in naval warfare, as the Athenians find out in the Syracusan harbor. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 1 Hermokrates describes the practical advantages which a city gives to its inhabitants. In his third speech at Kamarina, Hermokrates continues this association of Sicily with a city. He twice stresses that the Sicilians are vulnerable only if they stand apart (6.77.2. 6.79.3; cf. 4.61.7). He deepens this argument by pointing out that Athens has acquired its empire by intervening in cities which were suffering from stasis and even invited them in. Hermokrates holds that the Ionians were complicit in their own subjection (6.76.3-77.1; cf. 4.61.1). And the Kamarinaians have a particular interest in Syracuse’s survival: they are the next city on Athens’ list, and they will find it easier to resist Athens if Syracuse has not already been destroyed (6.78.1). This line of argument associates alliances between Athens and individual cities in Sicily with Athens’ own advertised methods of building its empire. Having established the image of Sicily as a city in the Gela speech, Hermokrates returns to this image in the speeches at Syracuse and Kamarina. This image contributes to his particular arguments on each occasion. The length of time separating Hermokrates’ speeches provides some evidence about the strength of his ideas. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 2 In the speeches at Gela and at Kamarina, Hermokrates attempts to get the states to redefine the way they look at the current situation, and to question the purposes for which they take military action. Hermokrates discusses with insight the immediate interests and long range goals of the other states within Sicily. In the following discussion, I explore the way in which Hermokrates goes beyond specific claims and achievability arguments, and makes a wider argument about Sicily’s goals. He builds this case on values recognized by the Sicilian people. He realizes, like Perikles, that values encapsulate intentions and goals, and therefore prescribe action. Hermokrates possesses a deep understanding of human motivation. At times, his statements look like commonplaces; for instance, he begins by saying that everyone knows the horrors of war (4.59.2). But Hermokrates does not argue for peace because war is terrible. Instead, these words acknowledge that the states have gone to war for serious purposes. These states have some idea of the risks and uncertainties they have undertaken, but they have decided that their own aims are even more compelling. Hermokrates reassesses the terms of these decisions. Hermokrates redefines his audience’s method of justifying war. Typically, when characters make judgments on fighting between states, they refer to a defensive war R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 3 effort as to dikaion, and they use bia or a similar term for an aggressive war. As I noted above, those who go to war see their own action in terms of defense, even if to all other eyes their intentions seem aggressive. Defenders often suggest that the principle of to dikaion forces them into war. At Gela, Hermokrates uses the Athenians to undercut each state’s claim of to dikaion. The Athenians come claiming they are doing to dikaion according to the terms of a treaty, but this very action, done eagerly, counts as pleonektein (4.61.4-5). To dikaion may serve as one’s self-justification for action, but it will not necessarily be recognized as a justification by others. Hermokrates invokes the same paradox in Kamarina at 6.79.1. If Kamarina does to dikaion according to its treaty with Athens, it will help Athens commit injustices (adikdsin). Hermokrates deconstructs notions of justice as they are applied to the question of alliance and conflict. According to this argument, to justify an action on the basis of an existing treaty does not make that action just in an objective sense. Furthermore, Hermokrates shows how military action affects claims of justice. Hermokrates does not share the conventional wisdom that defending is good and attacking is bad. He shows the Sicilians that they actually have similar motivations to the Athenians. It is one thing to defend against the aggressor, he claims, but another thing to attack a prior aggressor: ripcopia y a p o u k s u t u x e T BiKai'cos, o t i xai aBiKeTrai “Vengeance does not succeed justly, simply R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 4 because one has been wronged” (4.62.4). Hermokrates’ main point seems to be the uncertainty of war, but on an implicit level he goes beyond this. He compares an aggressor’s intentions with the defender’s. Hermokrates points out that it is one thing to feel a justifiable outrage when injured by others, but it is quite a different matter to take action to impose justice on others.1 4 0 People make a false antithesis between to clikaion and bia as motivations for action (4.62.3). The claim to be “in the right” not only does not guarantee success, it also becomes quite irrelevant when one goes to war. Both the defender and the aggressor make a deliberate choice to go to war. When they choose war, both sides commit bia and sacrifice claims of justice. Hermokrates also gets the states to reconsider their war aims. Since war aims relate to goals or anticipated goods, Hermokrates redefines the states’ notion of to agathon. Hermokrates points out the essential paradox at 4.62.2. Everyone agrees that war is an evil, and that peace is good, he claims (4.59.2, 4.62.2). And yet the Sicilians 1 4 0 Hermokrates likes metaphors of imperial administration. Hermokrates makes an eye catching reference to Athenian imperialist intentions as “arbitrators” (diallaktai: 4.60.1), and to describe a state’s control of its own desires he uses the word meaning “treasurer” or “controller” (tamia: 6.78.2). By using the word to dikaion in these speeches, Hermokrates points to the difference between controlling a system of justice and having a just legal claim. Cf. Sheets 1994. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 5 resort to war to restore ti... agathon which they lack and others enjoy. He shows that Sicily as a whole may evaluate actions differently from the individual cities. Hermokrates goes on to argue that the states could gain agatha by peaceful means. He also puts them in mind of agatha which they currently possess, and which they may well jeopardize by fighting each other. Liberty is an agathon. The Athenians, he observes, are coming to take away the agatha enjoyed by everyone (4.61.3). At Kamarina Hermokrates again problematizes the notion of to agathon (6.78.3). Anticipating the objection that Syracuse has its own imperial aspirations, he shows the Kamarinaians that Syracuse does them a service by protecting them against foreign aggressors. Once Syracuse is defeated, he claims, Kamarina will wish to be in a position of envying the agatha Syracuse now possesses (6.78.3). Hermokrates could have made his point simply by referring to defense and protection. But he uses the term cigathci in paradoxical fashion.1 4 1 This point refers back to his argument at Gela, that interstate 1 4 1 Many scholars have noticed Hermokrates’ use of paradox and irony. The abundance of rhetorical figures has seemed to some an argument for authenticity. Dover in HCT 4:350, however, comments on Hermokrates’ use of paronomasia (e.g. katoikisai. . . exoikisai: 6.76.2); Dover argues that this technique is not restricted to the speeches of Hermokrates, and does not necessarily reflect the style of the original speech. Nevertheless Hermokrates uses paronomasia frequently: Gomme notes it at 6.76.2, 6.76.4, 6.79.2, and there is at least one more instance at 6.79.3. Gomme also notes Hermokrates’ use of parison (4.61.7) andpolyptoton (4.64.3, 6.79.2). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 6 rivalries start when one state desires the agatha of another. In both places, Hermokrates undercuts each state’s notion that they need to acquire the agatha they see in rival cities. If they act on these envious motives, they are doing the same as the Athenians. In the I believe we should also recognize the way Hermokrates uses rhetorical techniques to shape evaluations of the current situation. In Aristotelian terms, the following observations are more a matter of ethos than of logos. Hermokrates likes to juxtapose different focalizations. He speaks as if his audience is unconvinced: that is, he hypothesizes a wide gap between his focalization (F2) and the audience’s focalization (F3). He places judgments made from their point of view side by side with his own. I have used one example above. In the speech at Kamarina he anticipates the excuse that Kamarina has an alliance with Athens by saying “Perhaps out of cowardice (cleilicii) you will attend to justice {to dikaion)” (6.79.1). Hermokrates deliberately places the judgment deilia, his own focalization, next to a Kamarinaian focalization of to dikaion. Here he is referring to the same action from different points of view. We might also say that this speech includes implicit stage directions. Hermokrates uses this technique again later in the chapter. Hermokrates comments that while the Rhegians alogds sophronousin, the Kamarinaians ally with natural enemies eulogoi prophasei. (The Kamarinaians are Dorians but are considering helping the Athenians; the Rhegians are Ionians, but have remained neutral: 4.1, 4.24-25). The word sopronousin is focalized by Hermokrates, and it implies that the Rhegians have seen through the Athenians’ specious excuses. But alogds is a Kamarinaian focalization. If the Kamarinaians join the Athenians on the grounds of a defensive alliance {eulogoi prophasei), then the Rhegians have a much better reason to help Leontini, since they share both alliance and blood. According to the Kamarinaian own case, the Rhegians’ rejection is alogds. This technique sheds light on what is perhaps the most famous phrase in Hermokrates’ speech at Gela: ‘That the Athenians should cherish this ambition and practise this policy is very excusable; and I do not blame those who wish to rule, but those who are over-ready to serve” (4.61.5, tr. Crawley). In this sentence Hermokrates appears to sympathize with the Athenians until the last phrase. He makes the point that it is vital to define ones true interests correctly, and to pursue them without being distracted by external considerations. Hermokrates can read Athenian action because he can understand their interests and current intentions. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 7 Gela speech, Hermokrates sets out his main argument that all of Sicily should resist Athens in 4.61. He calls this policy tosouton agathon (4.62.1). Not coincidentally. Hermokrates deconstructs other notions of to agathon straight after this proposal. Throughout his speeches, Hermokrates shows how this long term analysis prescribes current policy. In the speech at Gela, he illustrates the difference between goal oriented analysis and short term analysis. Like other intelligent characters, Hermokrates combines ideas about future achievement with an appreciation for the difficulty of predicting future events. His description of the future fits neatly into the schema which I described in section two. I argued there that all warmongers, use the categories of present and future to distinguish things that can be securely predicted and those that cannot. Hermokrates invokes this very distinction in his speech at Gela:u: ’Kai v u v toO d q j a v o u s te toutou 8t a to a T E t q a a p T o v 8eo$ t c a i 8ia to h8t i + <popEpou$ T t a p o v T a s 'A Q r i v a i o u g . kcct’ a ^ o T E p a EKTrXayEVTES, te a t to eAAittes Trjs yvcbpris. c o v ekccotos ti cpf|0r|pEv u p d ^ E i v , T a l $ K co A u p ats T a U T a i ^ Ik o cvco s v o u i a a v T E S E i p x 0 f i v a i , tous E9 E O T c b T a 5 ttoAehious ek T fis CTTTOTTEliTTCOHEV, 1 4 2 This sentence is obelized because it is strictly speaking ungrammatical. The word parontas should be an infinitive, not a participle. However, this grammatical problem does not affect the force of Hermokrates’ argument. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 S Let us therefore now allow the undefined fear of this unknown future, and the immediate terror of the Athenians' presence, to produce their natural impression, and let us consider any failure to carry out the programmes that we may each have sketched out for ourselves as sufficiently accounted for by these obstacles, and send away the intruder from the country. 4.63.1, tr. Crawley Hermokrates here asserts a link between each state’s planning {gnome) and its war aims (oiethemen praxeiri). As we expect from comparison with the other warmongers, he places these war aims or goals in the realm of to aphanes. Moreover, Hermokrates specifies those things that consign their goals to the realm of the invisible. He uses the strikingly concrete term &o/M/wa/--“obstructions.” This metaphorical language demonstrates that he accepts the overall distinction between achievable objectives and long term goals. These goals are not presently accessible or pursuable. The obstructions which block them are both fears: fear of the future course of events (i.e. tyche) and fear of the Athenians.1 4 3 Hermokrates' main purpose in this passage is to argue that these 1 4 3 At first sight it seems strange to classify these two fears together; the Athenians are real and specific, while the future course of events is an abstract and general idea. It might seem more natural to describe Athenian action as part of the future. But I think Hermokrates believes that both factors are at the same time intellectual and material. Since the Athenians are present in Sicily, they bring physical obstruction to action, but they also bring fear which inhibits action by the states. Fear of the future, as Hermokrates has pointed out at two points in the speech (4.59.2, 4.62.2-4), functions as R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 5 9 fears are sufficient explanations for the states’ inability to achieve what they have gone to war to achieve. Hermokrates implies in the words ixavcos eipxQfjvai that the states think there is some other explanation. One of Hermokrates’ main purposes in this speech is to argue against the audience’s notion that other states prevent them from getting their due (4.62.2-4). Hermokrates presents a different view of the cities’ interests. He argues in the present passage that the states have failed to achieve their objectives (as they see them) because they are not realistic and achievable. Their plans are still susceptible to the future course of events, and especially to outside intervention by the Athenians. The states should not therefore consider themselves deprived of any rights or dues. Hermokrates does not say that the states should reject all claims they have against each other (polemesomen: 4.59.4; cf. 4.63.1, 4.64.3). Instead, he stresses that they should be immediately concerned with the Athenian invasion. They can be certain that the Athenians are threatening them, while they cannot know they will defeat their rivals; consequently, they should act on the former expectation because it is more immediate and noncontingent. Like most ordinary characters in Thucydides, the Sicilian a reason not to go to war; for that reason, he regards it as something which physically inhibits a state’s pursuit of goals. In any case, Hermokrates categorizes future events in a way that is typical of the Thucydidean warmonger. Warmongers commonly believe that chance and voluntary human choice make up two distinct types of obstacle to future achievement. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 0 states are intellectually limited. But they are not limited in the sense that they cannot envision goals in the future; rather, they are limited because they fail to see the things which will prevent them achieving those goals. In practical terms, Hermokrates persuades the states to abort actions whose aims are not directly achievable (4.62.3, 4.63.1). On an intellectual level, the speeches at Gela and at Kamarina help the audience understand the limitations on reasonable prediction about the future. Hermokrates in this passage points out the difference between achievability arguments and arguments about goals. Throughout his speeches, he produces examples of solid goal oriented reasoning. By comparing the arguments of Hermokrates and Perikles with the ideas they reject, we can see how arguments about goals work. Successful arguments about goals are those which fit the achievability arguments most neatly. The fit can never be exact. The warmonger must define the state’s goals as precisely as possible. And even if his words are remembered later, those words are inevitably subject to inteipretation. In order for arguments about goals to be effective, the speaker must convincingly relate those goals to the achievability arguments, to show that they are truly realizable. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 1 Furthermore, goals must be described in such a way that they have ongoing applicability. We can see both Hermokrates and Perikles doing this. Goal oriented analysis involves defining not only one’s own goals, but also those of the enemy. I showed in section one that achievability arguments have a similar dual structure. Intelligent warmongers are very aware of the enemy’s goals and immediate intentions; in many cases, both sides’ war aims will be clear from negotiations. Warmongers must take enemy goals into account when defining their own goals. Crucially, Perikles and Hermokrates interpret human behavior in terms of the largest goals, the enemy’s ultimate war aims. This capacity is related to psychological expertise. Brasidas is the main practitioner of psychological expertise in Thucydides, but he is not a warmonger because he does not persuade his state to go to war and to confront long term future goals. Nevertheless, his psychological expertise does underlie the general knowledge exhibited by Perikles and Hermokrates. I noted in the last chapter that Brasidas’ psychological expertise allows him to read other people’s intentions. This capacity can be seen in his negotiations with Perdikkas, in his speech at Torone, and in his ability to read Kleon’s intentions in the Amphipolis campaign. Brasidas sees how human purposes influence other people’s action. Brasidas makes a reasonable estimate of R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 2 Kleon’s motives, and in fact predicts his action correctly.1 4 4 In a sense, Brasidas does employ a goal oriented form of analysis; however, he tends to look at relatively short term goals, and not the broad and ambitious goals of a whole state going to war. Perikles’ and Hermokrates’ arguments are different from this. They examine exclusively long term goals. They examine the enemy’s war aims, which have an ongoing influence on enemy action. They tackle the largest questions, and interpret individual action in the light of those questions. Even the most intelligent characters cannot predict just how other people will act and react in specific situations. Human behavior may be capricious at times, just like the operations of chance. Perikles’ ideas about the psychological power of Athens rely on the other Greeks recognizing that psychological power. The Athenians expect the Melians to recognize the futility of resistance, but the Melians stubbornly refuse to do this. However, the most successful warmongers use two different intellectual techniques in an attempt to minimize the unknown. From the perspective of Thucydidean 1 4 4 In a sense, Brasidas may have been wrong about Kleon’ motives, and could still have been successful. Kleon might have been motivated to move towards Amphipolis by the desire to keep his own troops in order, or by desire to achieve personal glory. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 3 characters, the realm of to aphanes does not continue into infinity.1 4 5 All of the characters have ultimate ends, which they would like to achieve. These futures are particular to the individual. Ultimate goals influence the way characters analyze present circumstances, and the way they present future consequences. We can see this most easily in the long term analyses of warmongers. By defining an ultimate future for themselves, Thucydidean warmongers can minimize the realm of to ciphanes by working on it from both ends. They produce achievability arguments, which start with relatively well known factors in present circumstances and pick out consequences in the future. Arguments about goals start with ultimate aims and work back towards the present situation. Achievability arguments rely on military experience and expertise; arguments about goals rest on knowledge of human values and purposes. General knowledge is the ability to combine short term analysis with long term analysis. 1 4 5 The warmongers can see certain consequences in the near future, which they classify as visible or real. Consequences that do not fit this standard count as invisible or unreal. However, it would be misleading to claim that everything which warmongers cannot predict counts as invisible. Warmongers do not care equally about all possible consequences. The invisible future events they care particularly about concern their goals. Warmongers are able to construct a hypothetical goal in their own imaginations, even though it may bear little relation to reality. Perikles does this when he speaks of world domination (e.g. 2.41.4). In this way, each individual sets a far limit on future possibilities, and that limit is purely his own construction. The limit is defined by the individual’s conception of goals, and by what he wants to accomplish. R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 4 Perikles and Hermokrates demonstrate general knowledge in their ability to combine achievability arguments and arguments about goals. Both Hermokrates and Perikles express long term achievement in civic or collective terms. While both individuals and cities have goals, they see that only a city’s goals are truly realizable. They construct an intricate system of argument which relies on collective factors rather than individual factors. In particular, Hermokrates and Perikles are supreme at establishing a link among values, intentions, and goals. They see the extent to which intentions and goals prescribe future action. They also use the techniques of psychological expertise, in using that knowledge to work out the enemy’s position and intentions. Like psychological expertise, general knowledge has a self- reflexive nature: it is both knowledge and knowledge of knowledge.1 4 0 Perikles and Hermokrates use values and purposes, in combination with achievability arguments, to work out their own city’s collective goals; they can use the same techniques to work out the enemy’s goals. Part of their intellectual function is recognizing that certain values are critical to their own city’s future achievement. Both of them define values in terms 1 4 6 General knowledge is different from psychological expertise, however. It moves beyond psychological expertise in that it looks at goals; therefore, it applies generally to the long term future, and not to a specific and short term campaign. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 5 of a larger whole: Perikles uses Athens, and Hermokrates uses Sicily metaphorically as if it were a city. Both speakers incorporate individual values in their analytic system, but recognize them only to the extent that they contribute to the city’s goals. Perikles and Hermokrates believe that the individual functions most effectively when he knows how his own efforts contribute to that larger collectivity, and when he realizes how the prosperity of that larger whole ensures his own prosperity. There is another related reason for emphasizing the collective. Much of their argument is psychological rather than material. Perikles and Hermokrates recognize the role of paradigmatic events in prescribing future achievement, and the role of threat in hindering enemy resistance. For this reason Perikles recommends making attacks round the Peloponnese, and Hermokrates recommends a show of force at Taras (1.142.4, 6.34.5). As I showed in section one, the achievability arguments incorporate a significant psychological component. The collective entity, Athens or Sicily, can advertise its ambitions and threats, and other people will pay attention. Individuals cannot do this. These ideas suggest that one of my conclusions about Perikles can be generalized. I demonstrated in section three that Perikles is the only character who is R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 6 completely devoid of personal interests throughout his appearances in Thucydides. The larger conclusion is that characters only have general knowledge when they deny personal interests. Hermokrates comes the closest, but even his personal interests can be detected on occasion (e.g. 6.72.3-4. 8.85.2).1 4 7 Hermokrates delivers three major speeches which appear to have only the interests of Syracuse at heart: they have a remarkable impact on Syracusan policy, they open up the possibility of a dramatic victory against the invading Athenians, and they alter the course of the Peloponnesian War. Nevertheless, Hermokrates’ personal interests, which emerge at other times, prevent that advice from having the same ongoing force as Perikles’. Other individuals like Brasidas and Alkibiades, practitioners of psychological expertise, have a dramatic impact on the war. But these individuals are more or less explicit about their personal 1 4 7 Both Perikles and Hermokrates are rigorously focused on the interests of their respective states; however, it emerges that Perikles is simply a far more established figure than Hermokrates. For this reason, Hermokrates cannot avoid making some suggestions which come across as bids for personal advancement (cf. Kleon’s accusations against Diodotos at 3.37.4-3.38.7). Perikles is in an absolutely secure position politically, and even leaves the audience free to reject his advice if it so wishes (2.60.4-6). This is why he can give advice without suggesting that he is promoting his own interests. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 7 stake in their own advice.1 4 8 By contrast, individuals with general knowledge know that interests and goals can only truly be pursued by cities, not by individuals. When Perikles gives advice, the audience cannot dismiss his advice as self-interested and choose to ignore it. Though Hermokrates gives advice of extraordinary insight and quality, he cannot demand that the audience listen in the same way. Hermokrates is not in a secure position politically, and inevitably displays personal interests. And because of these personal interests, he could be seen as a somewhat more broad-minded version of Alkibiades and Brasidas. Even if he displays general knowledge for extended stretches of text, he does not display general knowledge consistently throughout his appearances in the work. Perikles is the preeminent intellectual in the History, and the one true exponent of general knowledge. General knowledge enables warmongers to take account of chance to some extent. In this way, they resemble the practitioners of operational expertise, like Demosthenes and Phormion. We can identify where Brasidas uses operational expertise, and then moves into the realm of psychological expertise; we can also see where 1 4 8 In addition, practitioners of psychological expertise, like Brasidas and Alkibiades, give advice which applies to specific situations, not to all possible conflicts within the war. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 6 8 Hermokrates exhibits psychological expertise, and where he moves beyond that into general knowledge. So it is not surprising to have exponents of general knowledge confronting chance in the same way as practitioners of operational expertise. In chapter one, I described Phormion’s adaptability to circumstances in the battle of Naupaktos (2.91.2-4). The Athenian triremes are rowing for their lives, when by chance an anchored merchant ship appears. The final trireme rounds the ship, and sinks its pursuer. This incident sparks confusion among the Spartans, and the Athenians win a stunning victory. I argued that while chance plays a role, nevertheless Thucydides presents the battle as a victory of expertise. In the same way, Perikles and Hermokrates remain confident that their predictions can take account of chance events. To be sure, they recognize that chance events can be infinitely more powerful than any human action or reasoning.1 4 9 But they believe that powerful analysis can subsume, or exploit, smaller acts of chance. Perikles reveals this attitude to chance when he asserts, "the plague was the only thing which turned out greater than our expectations” (2.64.1). If we compare Perikles’ arguments in the final speech with those in his first speech, his analysis turns out to be almost identical. Perikles’ reasons for continuing the war after 1 4 9 Perikles asks the Athenians to face up to blows from the enemy with courage, and to bear blows from heaven as necessary (2.64.2). R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. two seasons remain the same as his reasons for starting the war in the first place. Perikles could not have predicted the plague, but this is the only factor he claims he failed to predict. And even the plague does not substantially change his analysis. Edmunds 1975 argues that Perikles holds an optimistic view of human intelligence, and that he is disparaging about the role of chance in human affairs.1 5 0 My discussion suggests that Perikles is able to combine intellectual optimism with respect for the role of chance. Hermokrates reveals a similar attitude in his speeches. Neither speaker thinks he can master chance or foretell future events. But because of general knowledge, Perikles and Hermokrates leave less to chance, and their analyses hold true further into the future than those of other characters. 1 5 0 Edmunds 1975.71: “Pericles’ policy rested on a calculation of the Athenians’ advantages over the Lacedaimonians and also on the premise that chance was not a major factor in wars. . . . In the third speech, the plague appears to Pericles as a subjective phenomenon.” R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 0 Conclusion The wider argument of this dissertation is that Thucydides presents human cognition in the narrative to the reader as a paradigm of reasoning about events. The argument in this chapter suggests that Perikles emerges as the supreme intellect, though he is arguably followed closely by Hermokrates. I have shown that it is possible to uncover the system of analysis which underlies Perikles’ supremacy. Perikles’ arguments teach both his audience and the reader. I have argued that Perikles shows the Athenians principles of warfare which, when interpreted correctly, should suggest the right course of action in particular circumstances. Perikles’ arguments show the reader how to analyze subsequent events in the war. He is the best adviser, because he is the only one whose advice concerns the polis as a whole. The audience cannot dismiss his advice as self promotion. Moreover, it applies generally to subsequent events. However, in the end, his advice only exists as words, and those words are subject to interpretation. Perikles does not expect all the people to be just like him, but he does expect them to understand how the advice applies to themselves as citizens of Athens. Thucydides claims that because later people misunderstood the true nature of his advice, they made crucial mistakes in the war (2.65.10). Perikles’ general knowledge incorporates both material and psychological factors. Rational actors in the History, if they are to be successful, R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 1 must analyze not only events and concrete factors, but also the thoughts of other actors. Putting these factors together, he can work out human intentions and goals. The intelligent character can understand human action, and can to an extent predict it, when he identifies the purposes towards which that action is directed. The later leaders and generals of Athens are not as skilled as Perikles at performing this psychological function. Rational human thought can be related to Thucydides’ historiographic function in two ways. First, it serves as a means of explaining human behavior. Thucydides is always careful to respect the knowledge a character could have had at the time. This knowledge is made up of military expertise and experience, awareness of past events, and certain principles of human behavior. Huart 1968 is in some respects a rather mechanical investigation of the thoughts of characters in Thucydides, but that study does reach a quite brilliant and important conclusion: that all individual characters are depicted as thinking rationally. Thucydides traces their thinking back to rational principles, even when they exhibit supposedly irrational emotions such as fear, anger, and self-interest. My study builds on Huart’s insight. The most intelligent characters can use their resources of knowledge to work out how other actors will behave, because R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. All they know that on some level they are acting rationally. Thucydides believes that the thoughts of historical actors are accessible and articulable because they are rational. By identifying a character’s goals, the intelligent characters can work out his interests, motivations, and actions. This point also bears on the second function. Rational thought also serves as a principle of historical interpretation for the reader. By understanding the ways in which characters interpret events and actions, the reader learns how to assess the events of the war. By depicting the inner workings of people’s minds, Thucydides shows how great a role rational factors play in governing human action.1 5 1 But rational analysis does not cover only particular events. Human analyses, especially in the speeches, contain large scale ideas which constitute inference and learning about human actions. The speeches of Perikles in particular establish a system for understanding subsequent events. I argue in the conclusion that Thucydides is describing this sort of systematic understanding when he asserts the utility of his History in the introduction to the work. 1 5 1 For Thucydides, human action leaves a rational imprint on events. Woodward and Bernstein 1994.36-7 describe the way the Nixon campaign contributions were sent to Mexico in order to cover the tracks leading back to the Oval Office. In the same way, human action in Thucydides, when investigated correctly, always contains a trail of rationality leading back to the actor’s goals and interests. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 3 In the course of the dissertation, I have shown the different ways in which intelligent characters understand the action of other human actors. I have explored successively wider frames of reference, from a single battle, to a campaign, to a whole war. The intelligent characters interpret human action according to these frames of reference. Perikles is supreme in the History because he most convincingly relates human action to the war as a whole. We can use the way intelligent individuals approach human behavior as a way to interpret the History as a whole. It is natural for modem readers, when reading a history, to separate historical events or “factual material” from judgment or “analysis.” But it appears, from his presentation of human consciousness, that Thucydides does not accept this distinction; at least, he does not distinguish them in the way the modem reader would. As I argued in the second chapter, characters work out particular questions of human motivation by examining circumstances and human goals. Again, characters are constantly relating particular questions of motivation to more general models of human behavior. Both events and human motives, then, make up the material for understanding human behavior. Characters constantly use specific events and human actions to work out larger models of human action. All human action on some level works rationally. The most intelligent characters can work out this strain of rationality. Theoretically, all historical actions and R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 4 events can be understood. Perikles comes as close as is humanly possible to an ideal of human understanding about events. But even his predictions assume that other people play by his rules. He cannot force people to play by his rules, and as a result, he cannot make future people act as he wishes. Perikles’ rationality does not enable him to predict future sequences of events; however, it does give a powerful means of retrospectively analyzing events, and also provides a possible way of channeling future events in a particular direction. This ideal leads to conclusions about Thucydides’ own function as historian. Thucydides has an idiosyncratic conception of historical facts and historical judgment. Thucydides regards the exercise of intelligence by various actors in the war as historical data. He believes that intelligent analysis can be interpreted and categorized in the same way as human actions and events. The achievability arguments and the arguments about goals show characters doing precisely this. The achievability arguments create a nexus of expectation within the war. They define concretely what each speaker thinks his side can achieve. Other warmongers use these judgments as a context for interpreting the human action in the war. Arguments about goals impose a structure of human purposes, against which particular actions are to be understood. From the modest pieces of R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 5 prebattle analysis to the grand speeches for war, Thucydides creates a web of rational thought which runs throughout the History. We cannot properly grasp events of the war unless we understand the complex of rational thought which underlies them. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 6 C o n c l u s i o n “Why, the arms you see here are of more than a thousand.” The herald replied: ‘Then they are not the arms of those who fought with us?” The other answered: “Yes, they are, if at least you fought at Idomene yesterday.” “But we fought with no one yesterday; but the day before in the retreat.” “However that may be, we fought yesterday with those who came to reinforce you from the city of the Ambraciots.” When the herald heard this and knew that the reinforcement from the city had been destroyed, he broke into wailing and, stunned at the magnitude of the present evils, went away at once without having performed his errand, or again asking for the dead bodies. 3.113.4-5, tr. Crawley This dissertation has been an attempt to explore the different kinds of human intelligence we see in action in Thucydides’ History. Many different characters contribute to an overall web of human rationality, which has different levels, and which adapts itself to circumstances in the course of the work. Each of the three types of intelligence I singled out can be regarded on its own terms as an ideal. I have argued that each of these types of intelligence corresponds closely with Thucydides’ own ideas about writing history. In addition, Thucydides intends the reader to comprehend these ideal forms of cognition and to apply them not only to the history of the Peloponnesian War, but potentially to later history as well (1.22.4). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 7 One of the most important findings of the first chapter was that Thucydides represents human views with greater frequency and density than has usually been recognized. For example, Thucydides often presents the concept of tyche not as an absolute but as something that is focalized by identifiable characters. Occurrences of tyche tend to correspond to specific people’s constructed views of a situation; they do not simply reflect the historian’s retrospective judgments. A further study would be necessary to establish my suspicion that many common explanations of events in Thucydides, such as tyche, anagke, and dikaiosyne, are essentially focalized in this way. In the second chapter I found that certain individuals are able to control the visions of other people, and to use this power to control those people’s knowledge and action. Obviously this argument depends on Thucydides’ model of the relation between vision, knowledge, and action; this topic deserves a study by itself. Rood 1998 has made an extremely valuable contribution to this topic, and I have not been able to fully incorporate his discussion into mine. However, I believe that Rood sometimes undervalues the extent to which a character’s vision is comprised of accumulated knowledge and experience from the past. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 8 My discussion in the third chapter outlines a type of cognition which is powerful enough to look at the distant future. While Perikles does not predict specific future events, he does demonstrate a way of analyzing the future rationally. I believe Thucydides ultimately wants the reader to look at his or her own historical circumstances in this way. Perikles’ type of cognition entails knowledge of particular factors, of underlying processes, and of ultimate goals. Moreover, it requires a convincing intellectual bridge between the short term and the long term. Perikles shows how this type of intelligence is realistically achievable, even if results cannot be guaranteed. He and Hermokrates grasp the point that long term goals can only be achieved on a civic or collective level, and not on an individual level. My discussion of human rationality in Thucydides’ History leaves open two big questions in particular. I have mentioned them in the main text in a somewhat paradoxical fashion. These problems are well known, and it is time to face up to them properly. The first question is, “What on earth did the Athenians think they were doing in the Great Harbor at Syracuse?” The second is, “Doesn’t Perikles critically miscalculate the intelligence of the Athenians?” The types of intelligence I have argued R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 7 9 for throughout the dissertation suggest that the answers to these questions are not simple ones, and that we need not necessarily reach final judgments on them. The first problem relates to Athenian strategy in the Sicilian expedition. This expedition comes at the top of the list of hamartemata made by Athenians during the war (2.69.10). I believe that Thucydides thought the expedition was itself a mistake, but not necessarily a catastrophic one. Thucydides makes clear that the real hamartemata were the decisions made after the expedition had already set out. These might include recalling Alkibiades, and placing Nikias in charge of the expedition although he did not believe in it. For the purposes of this discussion, the most important mistake comes in the area of naval strategy. The Athenians seem to have forgotten the lessons of Phormion’s campaigns. They do not seem to realize how the constricted waters of the Great Harbor at Syracuse put their fleet at a real disadvantage. A comparison of the maps in H C T4:468 and Rusten 1989:226 shows at a glance that the waters in the Great Harbor are considerably more constricted than those in the Korinthian Gulf.1 As I have 1 Unlike Pritchett, I have not personally paced the ground and swum the waters. Phormion regards the battle of Patrai as one fought in open water, but the battle of Naupaktos as one fought in constricted waters. The Korinthian Gulf is often more than five kilometers wide; at its narrowest point, between Rhion and Antirrhion. it is about two kilometers wide. The Great Harbor has an opening barely over one kilometer wide, R eproduced with perm ission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 8 0 suggested in the fifth section of chapter two, it seems as though the Athenians fall victim to the assumption that they are always superior to the enemy in naval power. Thucydides does not provide much explicit comment on these mistakes; however, he does offer commentary on an implicit level. The description of Syracusan naval innovations at 7.36 comes as a surprise to the reader, since the Athenians have cornered the market on technical and tactical innovations up to that point. In the narrative of the battle in the Great Harbor, Thucydides claims that these were the largest fleets ever to fight in such a small space. The description closely resembles the narrative of the battle of Patrai, except that this time the Athenians are the losers (7.70.4-6). As I showed in chapter three, both Perikles and the Korinthians recognize that naval technique and strategy are constantly evolving. Phormion’s successes show how important it is to adapt naval techniques to particular conditions, including the enemy’s level of expertise. The second problem can be seen especially clearly in Perikles’ speeches. On the one hand, Perikles assumes that Athens’ remarkable democratic system allows anybody and the distance from the opening to the back is about two kilometers. The largest measurement, the distance from North to South, is barely four kilometers. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 8 1 who thinks they have good advice to give it in front of the assembly. (There are no professional politicians in Athens; however, those with administrative and military experience are obviously more likely to give the soundest advice). On the other hand, Perikles maintains that it is up to the members of the assembly to choose which piece of advice is best (2.60.4-6). Thucydides comments in his obituary that Perikles was in effect a monarch because his advice was consistently judged the best (2.65.9). Unfortunately, the Athenians seem to have judged Perikles’ advice the best without actually understanding it. As I have argued in chapter three, Thucydides believes that the Athenians do not in fact listen properly to the advice Perikles gives, and make war- losing mistakes as a result. This point leaves open the question whether it is realistically possible for the Athenians to keep Perikles’ advice in mind over the course of a long war. I believe that Perikles wants Athens to do so, but cannot guarantee that they will. Perikles believes that it is up to intelligent speakers to produce expert strategic analysis, but in the end it is up to the assembly to choose which analysis Athens adopts, and which policy it chooses. Throughout the dissertation, I have pointed out the considerable intelligence of certain individuals. But Thucydides does not treat groups and collectivities nearly so R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 S 2 generously. The Athenians tum out to be no more intelligent collectively than the inhabitants of any other city. Judging by their actions at many points in the work, the Athenians seem to deserve the roasting they get from Kleon (3.37-8). One of the central findings of the second chapter was that types of expertise develop over time: new generations of individuals adapt their expertise to new circumstances, capabilities, and assumptions. Perikles recognizes the need to adapt, but cannot specify just what the particular circumstances will be. Because his ideal vision is so powerful, it can also seem somewhat static. Perikles wants the Athenians to recognize Athens’ ongoing goals, but also to stay a step ahead of the enemy. The Athenians seem unable to do this. Perikles’ apparent naivete is hard to explain. The best explanation I can muster is that on some level he believes that the ideals he presents, especially in the Funeral Speech, are on some level real. He believes that Athens is an education to Greece because the most intelligent individuals get the best upbringing and lifestyle Greece has to offer. But he also believes that they can somehow make Athens more intelligent as a whole. This is a dangerous assumption. The elite Athenians may be the best educated men in Greece, but Athens’ political system is not designed to make the best use of their skills. Moreover, the Athenian ideal is not the only effective model of action in the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 S 3 History, as intelligent individuals from Sparta, Syracuse, Thrace, and Persia demonstrate. Those of us who are teachers know the importance of distinguishing truly intelligent students from those who are merely good at repeating our words. Perikles appears to think the Athenian assembly is intelligent because it completely accepts the principles and analysis he has given them. Thucydides’ obituary is full of regret at Athens’ inability to live up to the standards Perikles set out at the beginning of the work. The rest of the History suggests that Perikles’ standards are perfectly realistic for individuals, but completely unrealistic for states, and especially democracies. At many points in the work, including the scene given at the head of this conclusion, Thucydides explicitly points to a sense of tragedy in the Peloponnesian War. To an extent, I have underplayed the sense of tragedy deliberately in this study, in order to highlight practical considerations and the operation of human intelligence. The two problems above suggest the nature of the tragedy in Thucydides’ History. The web of rationality running throughout the work fits the events only imperfectly. It can be accurate on a general level, but fail completely in a particular instance, especially one of collective decision making. Intelligence works on an individual level, while goals are only achievable on a collective level. This creates a paradox in Thucydides’ view of the R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 8 4 role of rationality in international politics, one which is necessarily unresolved given the unfinished state of the History. I have argued in this study that Thucydides intends the reader to read his History with a view to learning general principles from it, and learning how to adapt those general principles to particular conditions. None of the types of intelligence presented here can be delineated precisely, because they all exist on a level between the general and the particular. These types of intelligence are easiest to see in the thinking of characters. Human knowledge is always ongoing and never final. Each of the characters who thinks in the History is acutely aware that his analysis is part of the ongoing process of history, and claims only to make sound analysis of the present and past. Analysis of the future is very different, because particulars cannot be predicted. I suggest that Thucydides sees his own History in these terms. The importance of his work lies in its potential general applicability. Thucydides is clear that it will have instructive value for the reader, but he does not state exactly what patterns and similarities the reader will find (1.22.4). Clearly, however, the ability to connect past, present, and future using a system of rationality forms part of it. Thucydides, like his characters, does not expect to tell the future. Instead, he is concerned to represent a R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 8 5 stage of knowledge at a given moment in time, and to show how past factors are relevant to present circumstances and to future outcomes.2 In the Archaeology, Thucydides uses themes prominent in his own contemporary world, such as the role of naval power, and the human appetite for ruling others, to illuminate the distant past. Thucydides wants the reader to conclude that he has represented in his work the most accurate possible knowledge about the Peloponnesian War. But as we can infer from Thucydides’ own statements about his method, and from the analysis by characters within the work, his History has a future focus as well as a present focus. Thucydides leaves unspecified those things which may recur in the future because he expects his future readers, in understanding the rational analysis within the work, to recognize key factors in their own present circumstances and to interpret the past in the light of them. To this extent, then, the meanings future readers may extract from the Peloponnesian War may change over time. 2 The Korinthians explicitly acknowledge this connection (1.123.1). R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. B ib l io g r a p h y (Includes some works cited using abbreviations: see the Abbreviations section) Allison, J. 1979. Thucydides and 7roXu7tpaY|J.oauvT|. American Journal o f Ancient History 4:10-22. ________ . 1983. Pericles’ Policy and the Plague. Historia 32:14-23. ________ . 1989. Power and Preparedness in Thucydides. Baltimore MD: Johns Hopkins U. P. Andrewes, A. 1960. The Melian Dialogue and Pericles’ Last Speech. Proceeding o f the Cambridge Philological Society 186:1-10. ________ . 1962. The Mytilene Debate: Thucydides 3.36-49. Phoenix 16:64- 85. Aron, R. 1960. Thucydide et le recit des evenements. History and Theory 1:103-128. Babut, D. 1981. Interpretation historique et structure litteraire chez Thucydide: remarques sur la composition du livre IV. Bulletin de I'Association Guillaume Bude 40:417-39. Bal, M. 1985. Narratology. Toronto ON: U. of Toronto P. Bernstein, C. & Woodward, R. 1994. All the Presidents’ Men. New York & London: Touchstone, Simon & Schuster. Best, J. G. B. 1969. Thracian Peltasts and their Influence on Greek Warfare. Groningen: Wolters-Noordhoff. Betant LT Lexicon Thucydideum (2 vols). Geneva: Carey. 1866. Blainey, G. 1973. The Causes o f War. London: Macmillan. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 S 7 Bloedow, E. F. 1983. Archidamus the ‘Intelligent’ Spartan. Klio 65:27-48. Bosworth, A. B. 1993. The Humanitarian Aspect of the Melian Dialogue. Journal of Hellenic Studies 113:30-44. Bradeen, D. W. 1960. The Popularity of the Athenian Empire. Historia 9:257-69. Bronzwaer, W. 1981. Mieke Bal’s Concept of Focalization: A Critical Note. Poetics Today 2(2): 193-201. Brunt, P. A. 1965. Spartan Policy and Strategy in the Archidamian War Phoenix 19:255-280. Busolt GG Griechische Geschichte bis zur schlacht bei Chaeroneia (3 vols). Gotha: F. A. Perthes. 1893-1904. Cartledge, P. 1993. The Silent Women of Thucydides. In Rosen & Farrell 1993:125-32. Chatman, S. 1978. Story and Discourse: Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film. Ithaca NY: Cornell U. P. Chung, T. C. 1994. Sunzi Speaks: The Art o f War. New York & London: Doubleday Anchor. Cochrane, C. 1928. Thucydides and the Science o f History. Oxford: Oxford U. P. Cogan, M. 1981. The Human Thing. Chicago IL: U. of Chicago P. ________ . 1981a. Mytilene, Plataea, and Corcyra: Ideology and Policy in Thucydides, Book Three. Phoenix 35:1-21. Cohen, E. E. 1993. Athenian Economy and Society: A Banking Perspective. Princeton NJ: Princeton U. P. R eproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. 4 8 8 Connor, W. R. 1977. A Post-Modernist Thucydides? Classical Journal 72:2S9-9S. _________ . 1984. Thucydides. Princeton NJ: Princeton U. P. _________. 1985. Narrative Discourse in Thucydides. In Jameson 1985:1-17. Comford, F. M. 1907. Thucydides Mythistoricus. London: Arnold P. Crane, G. 1992. Power, Prestige, and the Corcyraean Affair in Thucydides I. Classical Antiquity 11:1-27. _