Book review: The Peloponnesian War, Donald Kagan (2003)

I bought this volume at Abbey’s Bookshop in the Sydney CBD while moving house.

‘Game of Thrones’ fans would appreciate this book about war, international rivalry, and celebration. I won’t spoil the fun by giving away the ending – Wikipedia can be consulted if you want to know the outcome – but I did look up the relevant web page at about page 100 in the book. 

Prior to that moment, I had no idea who would be the victor, and who would have to succumb to another people’s dominion, but it became clear in the reading that this is a book about the essential strength of democracy. For it’s the “Peloponnesian” war – in other words a story from the point of view of democratic Athens – and not the “Athenian” war, as it would’ve been if oligarchical Sparta had been the main focus. 

Historians agree on this point but an additional point can be made: the reason for this bias might be because, due to the public debates that routinely went on in Athens, there is just more source material deriving from that locality.

What differentiates this book from the TV show, is that with Kagan often the identities of the minor players overwhelm the major ones. A rash of referents can compromise the reader’s ability to process information and make it hard to follow what’s being told but you also have trouble seeing individuals acting independently or else in concert with others. This is a kind of paradox. The book is mainly about men acting in groups; whether the sailors of Samos looking to secure more rights for their kind, or else the oligarchs of the Four Hundred seeking to curtail the same. Women rarely feature, which is a shame.

Due to the paradox mentioned above the narrative founders, sometimes, amid a recount of some secondary uprising, with its associated agreements and alliances, or else a minor naval battle during which the Spartans once again flee before the superior naval force of Athens. You wonder how what you’re reading relates to the main thread of the story, which tends to disappear from view. The map you make in your head is, however, sufficiently remote from our own globalised ecumene as to make Kagan’s story seem exotic. Hence the ‘Game of Thrones’ reference above.

Those small towns’ names – and images of barbarians fighting with antiquated martial methods – impinges on your imagination to foster an idea of a small, cloistered, and somehow cartoonish world where, indeed, giants with one eye might realistically exist. Not so now when, at home, you can tune in with your browser to see a pair of eagles nesting in New York on your computer screen. Now, surrounded by your appliances and other creature comforts you can visit exotic places and vicariously experience the sort of strangeness Kagan provides. 

The appetite for this kind of story seems to be stronger now than ever before but I wonder if many will pick up this entertaining book. The author’s aim is to present something coherent but where (due to the passage of time) the names of the cities and the generals and “navarchs” (admirals) fielded for the purpose of battle, are distinctly unfamiliar – though I kept reading, entranced by the drama. 

I hesitate to ascribe Kagan’s failure to anything other than a lack of skill. Certainly, he seems, himself, to be on top of the sources, but his challenge is to relay that propinquity to the layperson. That said, he is a good storyteller and, given how “global” this conflict was in the fourth century BC – if not global at least broad in its consequences – I do wonder how it might’ve been possible for him to improve his narrative.

It’s clear that the Peloponnesian War – between oligarchical Sparta and democratic Athens – is one which should have relevance for a 21st century Australian. The reason for this is that, within this struggle, it is possible to discern more proximate conflicts. How does it compare, for example, to today’s politics where, once again, you have oligarchies (Russia, China) ranged against democracies (the USA, Australia, Britain). What is it about such polities – so different in their constitutions despite being contemporaneous – that makes them discordant in their relations. How does the form of government affect a community’s performance in war? Which form of government is better at organising itself for the purpose of war? And what of the public sphere. Does democracy have any shortcomings that mean that, under pressure, it starts to crack at the seams? Is it robust enough to survive a state of war?