Thucydides and the Philosophic Origins of History (review)

The overarching goal of this book is to "restore the wonder of Thucydides" (1), that is, to show how Thucydides constructs—or in the author's parlance, "founds"—a world so original and compelling that it lures readers of the History into accepting it as their own. The metaphor Shanske borrows to explain the position of Thucydides' readers is Wittgenstein's fly in the inverted bottle: attracted by sweetness at the bottle's mouth, the fly enters, is trapped, and comes to think of the bottle as its entire world. The analogy, as Shanske observes, is not entirely apt. "Sweetness" is hardly Thucydides' bait, and unlike Wittgenstein's fly, readers of the History can retrace their steps and perceive how they were lured in the first place—presumably with the help of books like this one. And the trip into Thucydides' bottle turns out to be salutary, not fatal.

In chapter 1, "Thucydides' Vision," Shanske identifies six features of the History that help to construct this bottle and attract readers. Thanks to its (1) density (amount of significant detail), (2) consistency (ideas encountered throughout the work in different contexts), (3) ubiquity (the relentless presentation of key ideas), and (4) open-endedness (puzzles posed; answers suggested, but not given), when readers reach the revolt of Chios in Book 8 (the episode with which Shanske opens his book), their (5) familiarity with Thucydides' vision allows them to understand the Chians' reasoning and its consequences. In this sense the narrative has (6) significance: the fate of the Chians matters.

In the remainder of the chapter, keeping these six features in mind, Shanske revisits the beginning of Book 1 (1.1–23). I encountered stimulating insights throughout. His interpretation of axiologo\taton is astute, as is his claim that "the most revealing pretext (ale\thestate\ prophasis), though the one least manifest in logos," was the assumption that war was inevitable; because cities acted upon this assumption, they also brought about the war (39). "The prophasis," he concludes, "is a logos whose power stretches backward and forward in time; even more extraordinary, it is self-fulfilling even as it is dubious, and it is hidden, requiring patient rereading by the wise" (40). This backward and forward movement, Shanske contends, is characteristic of the History as a whole; in his analysis of the Archaeology he shows that by arguing both against and in terms of Homer, Thucydides links his work with his predecessors' (again, the History's familiarity) while radically breaking from them to "found" a new world (25–26). Thucydides' vision of his contemporary world, that is, also revises the past.

Next, in "The Case of Pericles," Shanske exposes the view from within the bottle. Here he develops the notion of "seeing" introduced in his first chapter. For Thucydides, clear vision is temporal and requires perceiving "kinds." Much as we are able to recognize the face of an old friend in a stranger (Shanske nods again to Wittgenstein), the History allows us to see the past in the present. This kind of seeing is both limited and open-ended: after we recognize the old friend we cannot unrecognize him; yet we can also see several connections at once. So, too, it requires training, precisely what Thucydides offers. Using Pericles as his test case, Shanske shows how Thucydides trains his readers to recognize "Pericles" in an array of figures that includes Cleon, Diodotus, Alcibiades, Hermocrates, Themistocles, and even Thucydides. In turn, readers learn to use Periclean "kinds" to reassess Pericles himself.

Tragedy is central to Shanske's understanding of Thucydides. In chapter 3, by focusing on what is deinon (unfortunately translated as "dreadable"), which he identifies as a key notion in both the History and tragedy, Shanske tries to show that the History is both continuous with (again, familiarity) and goes further than tragedy. Although he associates deinon with transgression and excess, he also recognizes (pace Oudemans and Lardinois) that, as in Sophocles' "Ode to Man," its power is ambiguous: it builds...