The question of historical causation, and how ancient historians envisioned it, is complex. Observers of modern wars often search for a single precipitating cause, but have been at a loss to explain fully, for example, the outbreak of World War I or the US invasion of Iraq. Ancient Greek thinking was generally more comfortable with the idea of multiple causation. In mythological and literary tales, fate, the gods and human action comfortably cooperate and coincide to bring about events such as the fall of Troy. Even Herodotus’ position that fate and human hybris could simultaneously trigger disaster has not troubled most readers. But Thucydides, regarded by many as the forefather of political science, is sometimes seen as depicting historical processes in a more ‘rational’ light, often partially or wholly mechanistic, for example in the guise of the ‘Thucydides Trap’.
J.'s volume is an admirable correction of this tendency, offering a sensitive reading of causation, control and historical processes in the History. The book brings together various Thucydidean disciplines that are often relegated to separate siloes: because it works closely with Thucydides’ language to establish a reading of the text providing insight into how the historian explained complex political and historical processes, it will be of interest to political scientists and historians as well as scholars with more literary interests.
Chapters 1 and 2 take their starting point from Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ critique of Thucydides’ language. Narrative portions of the text – what J. deems ‘plain style’ – normally use typical Greek constructions. Sections in ‘abstract style’, on the other hand, depart considerably from what a reader such as Dionysius expects – or, on occasion, wishes. Especially in his most significant analytical and editorialising passages, such as the passage on stasis following the Corcyraean civil war (3.82–3), the historian often represents the idea of action with a noun when it would normally be expressed by combining a human actor in the nominative with a finite verb. He accordingly uses many articular infinitives and nominal phrases rather than verbs, especially to indicate emotional states, qualities (such as ‘roughness’) or sensory terms that do not apply to character (e.g. ‘convulsion’), usually pairing these abstract expressions with ‘asthenic verbs’ such as εἰμί or γίγνομαι (p. 35). Thucydides is also notable for his tight constructions, for example in the phrase φθόνῳ τοῦ περιεῖναι (3.82.8), which ‘expresses in an extremely compressed way the notion that the warring parties begrudged the neutrals their prospect of surviving’ (p. 51). As a consequence of these stylistic and grammatical choices, J. argues, humanity seems secondary and almost helpless amidst the emotions, violence and political upheaval besieging it. J. thus takes up and builds on lines of inquiry opened by A. Parry (‘Thucydides’ Use of Abstract Language’, Yale French Studies 45 [1970], 3–20) and C.W. MacLeod (‘Thucydides on Faction (3.82–83)’, PCPS 205 [1979], 52–68).
But, J. argues, humanity is not cast as entirely passive. He studies closely the question of whether Thucydides distinguished cleanly between circumstances beyond and within human control, concluding that, for the historian, the situation was more nuanced. Chapters 3 and 4 address situations in which leaders or political bodies are to a large extent constrained by circumstances. τό ἀνθρώπινον (1.22.4), which J. understands to be human nature as it reacts to particular circumstances, is one such driving force (1.22.4): as argued in Chapter 4, ‘the human’ thus serves as a kind of substitute for what Thucydides’ more traditional contemporaries would have cast as ‘the divine’. Quasi-personified powers such as poverty, wealth and hope also drive decision-making, especially in Diodotus’ speech and the Melian Debate (3.45.4–6, 5.103.1; pp. 122–3). These compulsions, as treated by Thucydides, have much in common with the overwhelming impulses familiar from tragedy, such as the agonising lust of Euripides’ Phaedra in Hippolytus. J. argues that these similarities suggest that, in a Thucydidean framework, such phenomena have supplanted roles traditionally assigned to the gods. Nonetheless, the historian continues to treat these compulsions as nearly autonomous, volitional actors, unsurprisingly hewing more closely to the beliefs of his contemporaries than to those of modern political scientists.
Power itself seems to act in ways that are only partially under the control of those who nominally wield it, as argued by J. in Chapter 3. The Empire, both in the Athenians’ own words and in the Pentecontaetia, seems to arise almost organically – and be expected to decay naturally – rather than by deliberate machination. Once established, the power of the Empire at least occasionally seems to force the Athenians’ hand: ‘a crucial lesson to be learned from Thucydides’ account of the rise of the Athenian empire is that the opportunities opened by δύναμις have the inherent tendency to develop into necessities, and that a seemingly handy instrument comes to dictate people's actions’ (p. 101).
This tendency does not mean, however, that states lack choices or that none of these choices are well- or ill-conceived, and J.'s final three chapters examine the delicate interaction between necessity and choice. Although the establishment of Athenian dominance seemed to have happened as ‘a process that follows its own logic’ (p. 97) rather than by force of will, Alcibiades, acting almost as desire personified (p. 197), takes his understanding of the momentum of the process too far. An advocate for the Sicilian Expedition, he encourages the Athenians to attempt to deliberately force the growth of power, breaking with this pattern of natural rise, and courting disaster (pp. 184–93).
As in the case of Alcibiades’ overreach, the response of τὸ ἀνθρώπινον to external forces is not inevitable or invariable, but depends on the character of the actor. In Chapter 8 J. discusses Pericles as a unique figure in the History, able to close the gap between the world of the intellect and external necessities by correctly shaping choices within circumstances. ‘γνώμη prevails not by erasing the powers set against it, but by drawing them in a dynamic relationship in which they prove beneficial under the guidance of intelligence’ (p. 287). The capacity of this extraordinary individual to engage productively with ‘necessities’ around him is reminiscent of older thought about the divine; in Chapter 6 J. points out that Athena's affinity for Odysseus and ability to inspire his cleverness is because she recognises her own qualities in him and can evoke them: ‘her liking does not suggest a relationship between puppeteer and puppet, but one between soulmates’ (p. 266). Much the same applies to states. Along with C.B.R. Pelling (Literary Texts and the Greek Historian [2000], p. 88), J. argues that Thucydides’ famous αἰτίαι for the war (1.23.6) are triggers forcefully bringing out the inherent characteristics of specific states or individuals. A particular course of events thus can both be inevitable and arise from the nature of a person or a civic body.
J. notes that, in comparison with other ancient historians, Thucydides emphasises historical processes rather than individual actors: instead of discussing individual tyrants and their characteristics, for example, he states that ‘tyrannies came to be established’ (1.13.1 τυραννίδες … καθίσταντο), attributing this phenomenon to the historical process of accumulation of wealth. J.'s study is a groundbreaking contribution to understanding Thucydides’ representation of how these processes work and if and how human beings can influence them. Questions of necessity, control and state behaviour remain important today, especially in the realm of international conflict. J. concludes with Abraham Lincoln's Thucydides-like statement on the arrival of the US Civil War, against the wishes of nearly all parties involved: ‘and the war came’.
