Athens and war Posted here Sunday, January 11, 2004 at 7:11:26 AM
From the New Yorker
The war that began in the spring of 431 represented what Kagan rightly calls “a fundamental departure” from this tradition, not only in its scope, duration, and complexity but also in savagery and bitterness. After the Corinthian diplomatic crisis, ties between Athens and Sparta disintegrated. Hostilities began, one night early in 431, with a sneak attack on a small Athenian protectorate called Plataea. This sordid violation of the norms of Greek warfare set the tone for what was to come. As the conflict spread across many fronts, from the Hellespont to Sicily to the coast of Asia Minor, it began to seem frustratingly unwinnable. The result, Kagan emphasizes, was a cycle of cruelty and reprisal that ended in a “collapse in the habits, institutions, beliefs, and restraints that are the foundations of civilized life”: schoolboys slaughtered in their classrooms by mercenaries, civilians murdered and enslaved en masse, supplicants dragged from (or burned at) altars, the war dead left to rot on the battlefield. In the end, the great standard-bearer of Greek civilization itself, Athens, collapsed. Bankrupt and imploding with civil strife after nearly three decades of fighting, it was finally defeated by an alliance of Sparta and Persia, the traditional enemy of the Greeks.
It was impossible to foresee any of this in the spring of 431. Athens was at its peak. Its empire of tribute-paying “allies” stretched across the Mediterranean, disciplined by a massive and well-trained navy. Its special national character—raucously democratic yet with an aristocratic esteem for high culture—was reflected in its leader, Pericles, who had populist appeal despite being a nobleman of what Kagan calls “the bluest blood.” It was Pericles who advised his countrymen, during the first few years of the war, to follow an unusual and, to many Athenians, foolishly passive defensive strategy: to remain within the city’s walls (including the so-called Long Walls that connected Athens to its port, Piraeus, four miles away) when the Spartans came to burn their crops, and to put their faith in their supremacy at sea. This plan took realistic account of Sparta’s vast superiority on land and of the fragility of the Spartan Alliance: the Athenians would simply ship in their grain, while harrying the coastal cities of the Peloponnese until the Spartan Alliance disintegrated.
Defining our time as "war" is a great mistake. If could have been defined as the time of justice, of learning how to benefit from the economy, of how to "buy" more than from the mall than the limited goods available there, for a new society of quality of life.
Spiral negatives are hard to forsee and inevitable. Elites are remote from the realities they crate, and hecne lack feedback on failure.
Our history has an impact on leaders, and too many of ushave abandoned the field to the demogogues.
Hanson’s article is featured in a collection called “An Autumn of War: What America Learned from September 11 and the War on Terrorism,” which Vice-President Dick Cheney recommended to his entire staff, declaring that it captured his philosophy. Hanson has also met the President and addressed the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and a certain military swagger tends to color his reading of Thucydides. In his introduction to “The Landmark Thucydides,” an amply annotated reprint of a Victorian translation of the History, he sneers at the “veneer of culture” that war inevitably strips away, showing us up “for what we really are.” In “Carnage and Culture,” his 2001 study arguing that Western warfare is superior to that of all other cultures, he says:
There is an inherent truth of battle. It is hard to disguise the verdict of the battlefield, and nearly impossible to explain away the dead, or to suggest that abject defeat is somehow victory. . . . To speak of war in any other fashion brings with it a sort of immorality.
And yet the Greeks themselves—not least Thucydides—did speak of war in these other ways. In fact, it is Hanson and Kagan who strip away the moral meaning that underpins Thucydides’ account of the war. To get a better sense of what that meaning is, you have to turn from the book that was started in 431 to the play that premièred that spring—which is to say, from history to tragedy.
Mel.: And how could it be just as good for us to be the slaves as for you to be the masters? Ath.: You, by giving in, would save yourselves from disaster; we, by not destroying you, would be able to profit from you. Mel.: So you would not agree to our being neutral, friends instead of enemies, but allies of neither side? Ath.: No, because it is not so much your hostility that injures us; it is rather the case that, if we were on friendly terms with you, our subjects would regard that as a sign of weakness in us, whereas your hatred is evidence of our power.
read more..
********
|
|