The Autonomy of the Political

Aron's point of departure is present-day science and politics. He begins his essay on Thucydides by stressing that because modern science requires a division of intellectual work into different fields of knowledge and disciplines, it risks losing sight of the unity of the political phenomena we are attempting to understand. He goes on to say that this division of labor in the social sciences is perhaps one of the reasons why we cannot imagine a “Thucydides of the twentieth century.” Aron draws a parallel between the tragic events of our time and the war between the Peloponnesian and Delian leagues. In both cases, men were faced with a situation of crisis that called for a retrospective understanding of what led to this political extreme, that is to say, war. However, Aron argues that no one today would seriously consider undertaking the project of a “grand” historical narrative such as Thucydides's. His aim is thus to explain why we are convinced that a Thucydides of the twentieth century could not exist.Footnote ¹²

The angle from which Leo Strauss begins his interpretation is somewhat different from Aron's. Looking at Thucydides's intention from a classical perspective, he asks: “What is the character of that Greek wisdom which issues in political history?”Footnote ¹³ This seems to be the “official” starting point. By comparing the historian (Thucydides) to the philosopher (Socrates/Plato), the task is to discern the specificity of the “Greek wisdom” found in political history. However, another implicit interrogation, perhaps even more fundamental, comes into play: how can one explain that Thucydides, who appears as a wise man, has chosen to write a history? To put it simply, why did Thucydides prefer history to philosophy? Why didn't he turn to philosophy?

Formulating the problem this way allows the reader to appreciate the novelty of Thucydides's work: his reasons for writing the history of the war between the Peloponnesians and the Athenians are, in Strauss's view, far from obvious. Strauss's first claim is that we should not take the existence of political history for granted. To understand Thucydides's intention thus means to examine the reasons why he found it necessary to report the events he witnessed in his lifetime in precisely this manner. In this respect, Aron's point of departure appears to be more modest. Or to be more precise, he did not go to the root of the problem. While Aron raises the question whether a “Thucydides of modern times” could exist, Strauss wonders how such a historical narrative could have been possible in the first place. He thus moves the interrogation upstream by insisting that one should note Thucydides's audacity and the unique character of such an enterprise.

With regard to the question of how Thucydides achieved this masterpiece of classical historiography, and why such a project is impossible to envision today, Aron hesitates between two different answers. On one hand, it could be that the raw material on which the history is based—political reality itself—has changed. Put another way, the first possibility is that the political events Thucydides describes are of a different nature from those of our time. On the other hand, it could also be that it is rather the historians that have changed. Aron concedes that the first hypothesis is partly valid: one cannot deny that technical progress has radically changed the scale and conduct of war. In spite of that fact, Aron still leans towards the second explanation, as does Strauss: they both argue that the fundamentals of politics remain unchanged.Footnote ¹⁴ This means two things: there is something one can learn from classical political history, and there is no “Thucydides of modern times,” primarily because the writing of history has changed.

Looking at Thucydides's work from a premodern perspective, Strauss seems to distance himself from the Aronian perspective, which is centered on present-day politics. That being said, he insists on the importance of studying classical political history precisely because it has something to do with the present state of knowledge, and more specifically with the growing importance of historical methods. Strauss dedicates the first pages of his essay “Thucydides: The Meaning of Political History” to the expansion of historical understanding up until the nineteenth century, referred to as the “century of historicism.” It is no accident that Strauss chooses to begin with a reflection on modern history. He explains that the emergence of historical studies in the past two hundred years has made the essence of philosophical activity unintelligible, if that activity has not disappeared altogether. If the threat to philosophy stems from history, Strauss concludes, the first step is therefore “to reconsider the whole problem of history.”Footnote ¹⁵ Following that, it is necessary to go back to one of the first historians in order to see “what went wrong.” Was the shift towards historicism already present in classical political history?

For Strauss, as well as for Aron, the War of the Peloponnesians and the Athenians reveals something about the nature of historical writing—about what history is, and what it ought to be. Although Aron does not aim at providing a comprehensive view of Thucydides's thought (as Strauss does), his interpretation remains very subtle and must be analyzed carefully.

Despite not having written extensively about the Athenian historian, Aron's interpretation stems from a lifelong reflection on the nature of political action. As a matter of fact, his intellectual enterprise owes a great deal to a Thucydidean outlook on political affairs. As he explains in his Memoirs, his book on the United States, La République impériale, is said to proceed from an intention similar to that of Thucydides, that is, to describe the international forces at play and to grasp the essence of a certain American “manner.”Footnote ¹⁶ Furthermore, Aron's theoretical proximity to modern philosophy—as denoted by his Neo-Kantian background and interest in modern political thinkers—does not exclude a more practical orientation towards the ancients. As he himself wrote in 1960, two books are for him bedside table readings: Aristotle's Politics and Thucydides's History.Footnote ¹⁷

For Aron, to recover Thucydides's fundamental intention, the interpreter must first ask: “What did he want to say to posterity?”Footnote ¹⁸ In a somewhat Straussian manner, Aron insists on the fact that Thucydides's writings are addressed primarily to future readers. Indeed, if an author claims that his work will constitute “a possession for all times,” the affirmation must be taken seriously. Therefore, the question “for whom was this teaching intended?” is of crucial importance in recovering Thucydides's intention; the most fundamental elements in the historical narrative will thus correspond to what Thucydides considers worthy of preservation for posterity.

What are those elements that, to cite Claude Lefort, do not “pass in the past”?Footnote ¹⁹ Because Thucydides belongs to the category of historians who “focus on action,”Footnote ²⁰ it is the actions of men that must be preserved in the historical narrative. As Aron explains: “Human action as such—and I mean by that the struggle of one man or several with one or several others—that is the center of interest for Thucydides, the focal point of a work that remains, in our eyes, a masterpiece, the masterpiece of ancient historiography.”Footnote ²¹ In his view, a history worthy of that name must place human actions at the forefront. The first lesson of Thucydides's history is that the texture of the past, its very substance, lies in the actions and speeches of great men: history must primarily be political. If his account of the Peloponnesian War is indeed a chef-d’œuvre, it is by virtue of a certain quality of the historical object, that is, the political speeches, decisions, and actions performed by individuals of outstanding political stature such as Pericles.

Thucydides's historical account is thus characterized by the primacy of the political. Modern history, on the other hand, is built on a wholly different set of premises, which are in part the target of Aron's criticism. More specifically, Aron's criticism seems to arise from the dominance of a sociological perspective that relegates the political to the background in favor of the study of culture and society as such. He insists that Thucydides “was not concerned with what we call the history of culture—the understanding of a unique way of living and thinking.”Footnote ²² For instance, the Greek historian does not mention the development of arts in Athens and he barely evokes the relationship between different groups of citizens or the situation of slaves; and when he does, it is only because those elements are necessary to understand the unfolding of political events. If there are important sociological elements in the historical explanation, these elements remain dependent on the political organization of the cities. The same goes for economic history. Aron explains that several contemporary interpreters have criticized Thucydides for not devoting enough resources to the economic analysis of war.Footnote ²³ Even though Thucydides mentions economic constraints, the use of resources to finance the construction of triremes, and the tribute paid to Athens by the enslaved cities, those elements are never brought up as the sole causes or explanations for the unfolding of the events.Footnote ²⁴ The deliberations in the assemblies, the decisions of citizens, the gap between their intentions and the consequences of their actions—all of this comes first in relation to what we would now call economic or cultural history.

Strauss's argument is similar, although more radical than Aron's. He maintains that a modern historian would not hesitate to criticize Thucydides on the grounds that he overlooked religious, cultural, or social “factors”Footnote ²⁵ in his account of the causes and consequences of the war. Strauss observes that Thucydides “is practically silent about such things.”Footnote ²⁶ From a modern perspective, even “political history,” conceived as a specific branch of history, must take into account more than political speeches and deeds. To illustrate his point, Strauss gives the example of “the best American historian” he knows, Henry Adams.Footnote ²⁷ In describing the political administration and lives of political men, Adams provides a detailed account of the intellectual, economic, social, and cultural aspects of his time.Footnote ²⁸ From that, one can see that Strauss's judgment on the difference between the history of the Peloponnesian War and contemporary history echoes Aron's view: “Since the eighteenth century or so, there has been an ever growing concern with history and an ever growing expansion of history. … The comprehensive theme of history is now no longer the political deeds and speeches, but something called ‘civilization’ or ‘culture.’”Footnote ²⁹

The two authors conclude that a transformation has occurred in the practice of history. Historians have moved away from the study of individual political action in order to focus on cultural or social history. In doing so, they have neglected the decisive role of statesmen in history, both past and present. Without denying the necessary role of social and cultural factors in explaining past events—he is, after all, also a sociologist—Aron laments this neglect when it comes to the interpretation of history as it unfolds. In “The Dawn of Universal History,” he indicates that modern theorists of history—Marx and Comte in particular—have overlooked traditional political history; that is to say, “the rise and fall of empires, the rivalry of regimes, the disastrous or beneficial feats of great men.”Footnote ³⁰ In Aron's view, one cannot ignore those “who made history,” men such as Lenin, Stalin, Churchill, and Hitler. While there are general social trends that can contribute to explain the past and foresee future outcomes, there is nonetheless an essential dimension of unpredictability that stems from the fundamental human freedom of action in history. In fact, we cannot fully understand present-day political problems without referring to crucial individual decisions; therefore, the study of political actions “retains an autonomy that justifies political history.”Footnote ³¹ Strauss's 1952 lecture later published under the title “Thucydides: The Meaning of Political History” pursued a similar goal. As Orwin explains in a recent article on Strauss's interpretation of Thucydides, in the context of the 1950s, the lecture offered “a resounding vindication of political history at the expense of the cultural history that had supplanted it.”Footnote ³²

The Universalism of Classical Political History

The second Thucydidean lesson on what history ought to be has to do with the universalism of the historian's teaching. In book 1 of the War of the Peloponnesians and the Athenians, Thucydides makes two important claims. He first states that this war is the greatest war one could recall even in the remotest past.Footnote ³³ He implies that the scale and duration of the war will reveal what could otherwise be difficult to perceive. The second claim is that his account of the events that happened in those twenty-seven years will constitute a “possession for all times.” Athens and Sparta were, at the beginning of the war in 431 BC, at their “highest point.” Following that, Strauss indicates that the highest situation at rest will generate the greatest motion. The Straussian and Aronian perspectives come together on this point: Thucydides makes it clear that his writings contain something valuable not just for his own time, but also for any political society. They both take Thucydides's claim seriously. For Aron, this war, spanning almost three decades, constitutes an “ideal war”Footnote ³⁴ in the Weberian sense; that is to say, an event that discloses the most salient features of human action. In this regard, the contrasts, oppositions, and antitheses Thucydides brings to light are permanent: peace and war, democracy and oligarchy, Athens and Sparta, daring and moderation, audacity and prudence, motion and rest, right and compulsion, persuasion and constraint, choice and necessity, intentions and results.

How did Thucydides achieve that? How did he succeed in elevating this series of events above its historical circumstances? For Aron as well as for Strauss, it is by a unique combination of singularity and universality. As Aron explains, “he does not formulate any law; he does not turn aside from whatever has happened at a certain place, at a certain moment; yet, the meaning of the narrative is never dissipated in anecdote.”Footnote ³⁵ In his seminar on Thucydides, Strauss makes the same argument: the Greek historian has a “broader intention” than that of a chronicler.Footnote ³⁶ The unique character of his writings comes from his success in bringing the universal into his description of particular events and actions. Aron points out that Thucydides never breaks with the narrative: the insights into the permanent traits of political life stem from the presentation of the particular events themselves and not from some general principles. For instance, when he describes the manners of Athens and Sparta, he does so in a way that instructs the reader on the unfolding of events while illustrating the fundamental opposition between audacity and moderation.Footnote ³⁷ The originality of Thucydides thus rests in his ability to communicate the fundamental conditions of human action while remaining faithful to the singularity of the successive episodes. Aron summarizes this point by saying that one finds in this masterpiece “the events being illuminated by ideas without losing their uniqueness.”Footnote ³⁸

In Aron's view, Thucydides's mastery of the art of writing a political history also comes from his position as a political actor. As an observer exiled from his Heimat and who was old enough to “appreciate what was going on,” he stood at a distance vis-à-vis the events of his time (Thuc. 5.26). He thus possessed both the competences of the man who is involved in political action and the qualities of the observer of history. This specific posture, between action and contemplation—one that is reminiscent of Aron's own position as a spectateur engagé—provides the narrative with its universal quality. Aron expresses this idea in his book on the German general Carl von Clausewitz, in which he specifies that it also applies to thinkers such as Thucydides and Machiavelli:

In spite of his situation of exile and the disappointments of political life, it is precisely because of his affinity with political life, because of his love for the polis, that Thucydides succeeded in producing such a masterpiece.

The Impartiality of the Historian: Thucydides's Judgment and the Reconstitution of the Speeches

To demonstrate that Thucydides's account—unlike the works of modern historical science—aims at a universal knowledge, another component is key: his presence in the narrative. Unlike the productions from modern historians, Thucydides inserts in his narrative political speeches that he himself wrote.Footnote ⁴⁰ While the extensive character of Thucydides's historical inquiry and his use of historical documents bring him closer to the modern standards of historiography, his narrative includes an additional dimension: the speeches of political men.

Strauss observes that Thucydides is silent on the reasons why he chose to insert the speech in his historical account of the war. He only indicates that he sought to reconstruct the speeches of political actors as accurately as possible. Strauss thus raises a crucial question that illuminates Thucydides's intention: “What do the speeches achieve that the most perfect report about the speeches could not have achieved?”Footnote ⁴¹ One can assume that if Thucydides has decided to let the actors speak, it is to establish a distinction between their speeches and what he says in his own name. In other words, the interpreter cannot confuse Thucydides's intention and the intention of the different speakers. From this hypothesis we can draw a lesson on the nature of political speech. As Strauss explains:

Because the political speeches are partisan discourses and are expressed in particular circumstances, they are partial. In contrast, Thucydides's speech is impartial in two ways: he does not take sides in the conflict and, as an historian, stands at a distance from the war. However, such a gesture—inserting political speeches that may or may not have really happened in that exact way—would be considered, from the perspective of modern historical science, to be a historical blunder. Any explicit intervention on the historian's part in the historical narrative negates the objectivity of history as one of the principles of modern historical writing. According to Strauss, the modern historian, who is first and foremost concerned with “historical facts,” would conclude that Thucydides's history implies “a kind of forgery.”Footnote ⁴³

Thucydides's method thus leads to a reflection on historical truth. In Strauss's view, the speeches in the narrative are reorganized and retouched, not to change historical reality, but to make the narrative more faithful to what actually happened.Footnote ⁴⁴ What this means is that if political speeches, such as Alcibiades's plea before the assembly when he seeks to convince his fellow citizens of the soundness of the Sicilian expedition or Nicias's arguments to deter the people in engaging in that dangerous enterprise, were to be reconstructed in their “original” condition—how the citizens heard them—the message they convey would not be sufficiently visible. The historian's intervention is necessary to purge superfluous elements from the speeches in order to shed light on the force of the arguments. A simple transcription of the speeches would be just as unsatisfactory as a battle observed from the perspective of the solider engaged in the conflict at the very moment it happened; the soldier cannot describe the positioning of the troops, the military strategies at play, and the general structure of the confrontation. He would see only his fellow companions, the same way the reader would see only the multitude of arguments without being able to understand the fundamental issues beyond the particular.Footnote ⁴⁵ Furthermore, it is by transforming the historical event that it can become of interest to us. Without the historian's decision about what is important and what is not, the narrative itself would resemble those Athenians who, fighting in the dark during the Sicilian expedition, could not distinguish their compatriots from their enemies.Footnote ⁴⁶ As Aron notes, the essential point is that the discourses in Thucydides's book are what they should have been in reality.Footnote ⁴⁷

On that point, the opposition between modern historiography and classical political history is most visible, because Thucydides is certainly not neutral. He does what a modern historian would condemn: he comments on the qualities of the political men, on the perception of the citizens—a commentary that partially determines the way in which the reader will approach the speeches. For example, Thucydides highlights the “quite exceptional” character of Themistocles, who is presented as a man who possesses the art of “judging an immediate situation with the minimum of deliberation” (Thuc. 1.138). Thucydides's praise leads the reader to consider his actions in a new light. One can also recall the way in which Thucydides introduces the speech of Pericles, “the leading man in Athens” (1.139). His presentation of Pericles's qualities invites the reader to be more inclined to support the Athenian leader, even when he faces the criticism of the Athenian people.

Thucydides's interventions in the historical narrative go against the modern principle according to which the historian must remain neutral, that is to say, invisible in the description of facts. In order to describe the events as they really occurred, the modern historian is asked—at least in theory—to separate facts and values.Footnote ⁴⁸ He is expected to describe the facts and to refrain from speaking in his own name. Thucydides, by contrast, makes “value judgments.” In this regard Strauss and Aron make the same argument: rather than being neutral, Thucydides is impartial. According to them, it is by virtue of his impartiality (which still allows for his explicit judgments in the narrative) that Thucydides's account of the war constitutes a possession for all times. Both Aron and Strauss criticize the artificial character of the modern alleged axiological neutrality by arguing that a genuine understanding of the historical object requires the historian to be engaged in the analysis. In his seminar on the principles of classical political philosophy in 1961, Strauss makes a clear distinction, which can also apply to Thucydides: “The impartial man, as Aristotle sees it, or Plato, is not the neutral. The neutral man is an indifferent man. The impartial man is a man who is very much concerned with getting a just decision.”Footnote ⁴⁹ Therefore, to characterize Thucydides's method adequately, one should speak of impartiality rather than objectivity (as the concept is understood in modern epistemological terms). What makes Thucydides's work imperishable is precisely the historian's concern for truth and justice, visible in his explicit judgments, in the reconstruction of the speeches, in his intention of describing, for posterity, the greatest war. The impartiality of the classical historian does not exclude judgment; it rather sanctions its value. That being said, he leaves room for his readers to articulate their own conclusions. As Strauss points out, Thucydides's judgments, though visible, are nonetheless more reserved than those of the political actors.Footnote ⁵⁰

It is by studying Thucydides that we can cast doubt on the epistemological principle of axiological neutrality in historical writing. The strict separation of factual descriptions and “value judgments” in the historical narrative, although to some extent necessary, carries a risk: that of losing what makes history interesting to begin with.

Thucydides as a Philosophic Historian: Strauss's Ambivalence towards Political History

We now turn to the second question that both Strauss and Aron seek to answer: what can we learn from political history that we cannot learn from political philosophy? The formulation of the question itself is partly misleading, for the two thinkers consider that Thucydides's narrative carries a “political philosophy”;Footnote ⁵¹ the Greek historian seeks to unveil the truth about the nature of political life. The question is thus: what can one get from reading Thucydides that cannot be provided by reading Plato or Aristotle? And conversely, what does a perspective that focuses on political events here and now—compared to the exercise of “looking philosophically at things political”Footnote ⁵² —fail to grasp? These questions lead us to consider not only the specificity of political history with regard to classical political philosophy, but more fundamentally, the relationship between philosophy and politics.

Strauss's position on political history is difficult to determine. In the first piece he wrote on Thucydides, he starts by bringing to light the paradoxical position of Thucydides as a “historian.” What is puzzling is that Thucydides is simultaneously a wise man and a man immersed in political life. The argument unfolds as follows: political history belongs to political life. There can be political history only if political life is regarded as crucial. But Strauss argues that politics will be of decisive importance mainly for those “who prefer (as some Florentines did) the salvation of their city to the salvation of their souls.”Footnote ⁵³ In this regard, Thucydides belongs to the category of men who see the polis as first.

The political philosopher must pursue his task by taking his distance from the city, whereas the attention of the political man is entirely focused on political life: his posture is defined by a love of the polis. Where do we place the political historian in this opposition? He seems to be caught in the middle. His position demands of him to consider political things within the horizon of the city, while at the same time being apolis. Therefore, writing the history of the Peloponnesian War requires a disposition one cannot find in citizens or political men; it involves a certain form of wisdom, which is acquired by the distance from the turmoil of political life. Since the quest for wisdom usually requires breaking with the opinions and conventions of the city, and since Thucydides, who is “immersed in political life,” is considered a wise man, we are confronted with a problem.

A close reading of the third chapter of The City and Man can help clarify what is at stake in determining the nature of Thucydides's teaching.Footnote ⁵⁴ It is worth noting that it is by far the longest chapter of the book;Footnote ⁵⁵ it shows that the interpretation of Thucydides's political history is essential to Strauss's investigation of the relationship between the city and man. His examination of the Athenian historian is thus part of his “phenomenological” project to retrieve a more immediate understanding of political things. As Orwin suggests, “Strauss turns to classical political philosophy as the most perfect articulation of the prescientific or ‘common sense’ approach to politics.”Footnote ⁵⁶ Starting with Aristotle, followed by Plato, Strauss ends his investigation with Thucydides's political history as the culmination of that understanding—but also, interestingly enough, as a way to introduce the question of the place of the divine in that “common sense” approach to political life.Footnote ⁵⁷

A thorough discussion of that central topic exceeds the aim of the present essay. It is nonetheless essential to mention one of Strauss's unique contributions to Thucydides scholarship: the insistence on piety and the role of the divine in Thucydides as an essential component of the historian's narrative.Footnote ⁵⁸ The question of the role of the gods (or rather, the divine) in Thucydides's history, as well as Thucydides's own view on that subject, remains so puzzling and elusive that it is not clear what conclusions we can actually draw from Strauss's account. Strauss analyzes Thucydides's many silences on that question (he insists, for instance, on the absence of any consideration for the gods in Alcibiades's speech), but there is only so much we can infer from the absence of something.

That being said, this appeal to the divine is essential in understanding not only Thucydides's intention, but also Strauss's intention. Strauss's remarks in The City and Man, supplemented by his observations in his third Thucydides essay, point to the fact that the appeal to the divine is part of a prephilosophic understanding of the city. For example, the way in which his thinking about the gods influences Nicias's decisions testifies to their importance in understanding political action. Through Thucydides, the question of the nature of the divine is raised in the “ordinary sense.”Footnote ⁵⁹ It is, in other words, part of Strauss's phenomenological recovery of what is “first for us.” What is “first for us,” as shown by Thucydides's description of speeches and deeds, includes the fundamental experience of the divine. Despite its importance in Strauss's interpretation, I will focus here on one specific dimension that is related to Aron's reading: the specificity of political history with regard to philosophy.

To establish the nature of Thucydides's work, Strauss examines two different accounts of history: those of Aristotle and of Hobbes. According to Aristotle, philosophy and poetry are superior to history, for the historian is only concerned with specific individuals and specific wars. The philosopher, on the other hand, is concerned with justice in itself. Thucydides's history does not fit into either of these categories; he makes universal political judgments and describes individual action. Strauss suggests that the Aristotelian conception of history must be left aside because it presupposes philosophy. The reader must suspend any prior opinion—modern or premodern—on what history is before continuing in that interpretive journey.

Strauss also rejects Hobbes's interpretation, which again presupposes an opposition between philosophy and history. Hobbes presents his conception of political history in the preface to his translation of Thucydides's text. He describes the Thucydidean way of writing history as follows: “Digressions for instruction's cause, and other such open conveyances of precepts, (which is the philosopher's part), he never useth; as having so clearly set before men's eyes the way and events of good and evil counsels, that the narration itself doth secretly instruct the reader, and more effectually than can possibly be done by precept.”Footnote ⁶⁰ According to Hobbes, the magnitude of Thucydides's achievement comes from his silent presentation of the universal, letting the reader form his own judgment. Strauss is not satisfied with this explanation: one brief look at the book is sufficient to realize that Thucydides expresses explicit political judgments in his own name. From this is derived a second recommendation for the reader: the only legitimate point of departure is the consideration of Thucydides's explicit judgments.Footnote ⁶¹

The “paradox”Footnote ⁶² of Thucydides's discourse lies in the amalgam of wisdom and the love of political life. In Strauss's view, one might ask: why would a wise man be passionate about politics to the point of abandoning the search for a truth beyond the chaos of political life? How can a wise man give such importance to political affairs? Strauss concludes his essay in The City and Man by stating that Thucydides “is more concerned than is classical political philosophy with what is ‘first for us’ as distinguished from what is ‘first by nature.’”Footnote ⁶³ The question is thus: are the two types of inquiry complementary? Or do they exclude one another? In Strauss's perspective, classical political history is not vulnerable to the criticism of history in the modern sense primarily because it stands closer to philosophy. In other words, Thucydides's teaching is compatible with political philosophy because he is a philosophic historian.

Strauss provides arguments to support his claim. He indicates that Thucydides's preference for the Spartan manner points to the fact that the great man—and philosopher—does not necessarily identify with “what is most highly esteemed in his place of birth.”Footnote ⁶⁴ His judgment is based on a “final knowledge”; that is to say, a philosophical knowledge that “moderation is conduct in accordance with the nature of human things.”Footnote ⁶⁵ In sum, he is a “philosophic historian” because “he does not belong to any city.”Footnote ⁶⁶

Although this may be true, one could argue that Strauss tends to neglect the specific type of wisdom which issues in political history by insisting on the philosophical character of Thucydides's enterprise rather the historian's orientation towards the city, towards the attention to detail. In this regard, Strauss does not deliver on his promise. In rejecting both Aristotle's typology and Hobbes's interpretation of political history, he had instructed the reader to study the Thucydidean narrative in its own terms, without any prior notion about the distinction between philosophy and history. But what he actually does is precisely the opposite, for he reads Thucydides's work in light of a comparison with classical political philosophy.

In making Thucydides a “philosophic historian,” Strauss aims to overcome the apparent opposition between Thucydides and Plato in order to demonstrate the compatibility of their teachings. Strauss suggests that classical political history and classical political philosophy are both driven by a quest for knowledge of political life as a whole. Thucydides indeed sees change in light of what persists through the unfolding of events. Like the philosopher, his discourse is not determined by the opinions and conventions of the city; in a way, he seeks a knowledge that transcends the limits of the city.

However, as Strauss himself suggests in his seminar devoted to Thucydides's political philosophy, one needs to turn to Thucydides's work to learn something that Plato and Aristotle cannot teach us.Footnote ⁶⁷ To identify what might be the specific wisdom in political history, Strauss focuses on the exposition of the Athenian and Spartan manners. The core of his interpretation concerns the different characteristics that Thucydides attributes to the two cities. The first Thucydidean judgment in favor of Sparta can be found in the first speech of the Corinthians in Sparta.Footnote ⁶⁸ Strauss goes on to highlight all the occurrences where Thucydides's preference for Sparta is displayed. On the whole, Strauss claims, the Greek historian shows a preference for the Spartan manner over the Athenian manner.Footnote ⁶⁹

There seem to be many reasons for that, but one in particular stands out. In the beginning of the first book, Thucydides exposes the immediate and more visible causes of the outbreak of the war, that is to say, the “official reasons,” as well as the “true causes” of the conflict (Thuc. 1.23). Thucydides does not simply expose the two parties’ grievances: he explicitly states his fundamental intention, which is to demonstrate that the true cause of the war, the one that was least put forward, was Athens's expansionist desire. The real source of the conflict is not to be found in a specific triggering event, but in Athens's imperialism, in its attempt to subject other cities to its rule, in a city's insatiable appetite for glory. In that sense, the Athenians did not initiate the war—the “biggest motion”—out of fear, necessity, or profit, but with the ultimate objective of eternal glory.Footnote ⁷⁰ Athens's hubris is ultimately responsible for its ruin. In light of these considerations, Thucydides's historical narrative would constitute a testimony to moderation as the supreme political virtue; and this would be the reason why he prefers the Spartan manner to the Athenian manner.

According to Strauss, Thucydides's wisdom thus manifests itself on two different levels. First, it presents itself as a substitute to Homeric wisdom; Thucydides depicts political life without any artifice, and therefore provides a more adequate account of the fundamental traits of human life.Footnote ⁷¹ Second, the contrast in Thucydides's work between Athens's imperialism and Sparta's moderation constitutes evidence that prudence and moderation are the most important virtues in political action; the reader would become wiser by considering the parallel between the two manners.

However, there is an ambiguity in Thucydides's position. As Strauss indicates, there is one sense in which Athens emerges victorious from its defeat. In his view, if Athens is defeated at the level of political action, it nonetheless wins the war “in speech.” Paradoxical as it may seem, Thucydides's favorable judgment on the Spartan manner is made possible by his being a citizen of Athens. While he praises the moderation of Sparta, his work itself demonstrates the superiority of Athens. As Strauss rightly points out, Athens contained more outstanding and gifted individuals than did Sparta. Furthermore, it is in Athens that philosophy flourishes. Therefore, the work Thucydides achieved might have been possible only in Athens; the city is thus superior in this regard and contradicts Thucydides's own explicit judgment. As a matter of fact, Strauss points to the kinship between the universalism of Athens and the universalism of Thucydides's work: the daring found in the latter's work mimics the daring of the city.Footnote ⁷² Strauss thus demonstrates that the city of Athens ultimately displays the greatest wisdom; because it embodies the highest possibilities and aspirations of humanity, it allows Thucydides to become a better judge of the vices and virtues of men. The universalism of the Athenian polis is thus expressed through the Thucydidean narrative.Footnote ⁷³

The specificity of Thucydides's political wisdom thus depends upon a city where philosophy is possible. This argument explains why Strauss seeks to determine the nature of classical political history in comparison with political philosophy. However, in doing so, Strauss seems to fall into the very trap that he urged the reader to avoid, that of considering Thucydides's narrative in light of the opposition between philosophy and history. In insisting on the philosophical character of Thucydides's enterprise, he tends to neglect the specifically political elements of his work that stand outside the scope of political philosophy. To seek out what these elements might be, we have to turn to Raymond Aron's interpretation.

Aron and Thucydides's “Tragic Wisdom”

Aron makes the opposite claim: it is precisely because political history is not philosophical that it is essential to the reflection on political things. According to him, Thucydides provides an insight into the “crude reality”Footnote ⁷⁴ of political life that cannot be found in political philosophy. He implies that in order to elaborate a clear and accurate account of the principles of politics, one should side with Thucydides rather than with Plato.Footnote ⁷⁵ From Aron's perspective, if politics or the understanding of politics is first, then Thucydides's history is more “useful”—and perhaps more “truthful”—to political reflection than is Plato's Republic. As Aron explains in “The Sense of History,” past political experiences teach us the fundamental truth of the “precarious character of civilizations.” The lesson of Thucydides, the one that comes first in Aron's view, is to be found in the statement of the inevitability of decline.

Aron provides a second argument for the necessity of seeing political history in its own light. According to him, political history provides the resources to understand the basic articulations of political life. The political theorist, looking at the past, can analyze events of which we now know the outcome. To put it simply, past events do not have the uncertain character of the present: one can see their sources, their unfolding, and their consequences. However, that does not mean that one should understand past political events that way. On the contrary, in recounting an event, the historian—or political thinker, or philosopher—must constantly keep in mind that what happened at a certain moment was open to different possibilities; past political events once had an undetermined future. Therefore, in order to fully recover what happened, one has to reenact the deliberations and difficult choices political men had to make in the face of a specific political situation. This is why Aron suggests that we conceive of history as a resurrection of politics. According to him, this is exactly what Thucydides achieved. This in turn could allow the political philosopher to train his judgment. One can be led to form a sound judgment on the present by examining past events; by seeing what went wrong, by evaluating and weighing the decisions taken by political actors, by reflecting on the motives and intentions involved in political action.

In Aron's view, what makes Thucydides's historical narrative necessary to the reflection on the principles and foundation of politics is the special attention to the “personalities” of political statesmen: the description of their virtues and vices, of the motives underlying their actions, of their discourses in front of their fellow citizens or their enemies. The relevance of political history for political philosophy lies in the exemplification of the philosophical description of human nature. In this regard, political history and political philosophy would perform complementary tasks: the former would supplement the latter with “exemplars.” Strauss would probably agree with Aron on this point: particular historical examples give substance to the philosophical insight into politics. As Strauss once put it in a letter to Karl Löwith, he did not understand what the Aristotelian notion of magnanimity meant until he saw the actions and speeches of Churchill.Footnote ⁷⁶ The same argument applies in the case of reading Thucydides: the texture of political life is captured through the deliberations, oppositions, hesitations, decisions, constraints, and confrontations of political actors. Thucydides describes the Athenian and the Spartan manners by setting forth the successes and failures of individual men.

The war between the Peloponnesians and the Athenians as reported by Thucydides fulfills a third function: it highlights the interplay between the rationality of actions and the essential uncertainty of political decisions. Aron insists on the fact that human action, guided either by calculation or by passion, always remains intelligible in the eyes of the Greek historian. In reconstructing the speeches, Thucydides stresses the importance of the explicit intentions of political men. In doing so, he nevertheless takes into account the unforeseeable nature of the outcomes of political decisions. In many passages, he indicates to the reader that things could have taken another direction. For instance, Thucydides suggests in his narrative that the Athenians could have triumphed in their Sicilian expedition.Footnote ⁷⁷ It is by a combination of circumstances, a set of contradictory and sometimes equivocal actions and a sum of intended and unintended effects, that the events happened in a certain way.Footnote ⁷⁸ Thucydides takes into account the accidental dimension of politics in reconstructing the intelligibility of political actions. In other terms, in bringing to light the opposition between peace and war, between motion and rest, political history displays at greater lengths what Aron calls the “antinomies” of human action.

The political speeches and deeds related by Thucydides thus illustrate a central theme in Aron's thought: the paradox of the contrast between intentions and final results. One example is the effect of Nicias's second discourse before the assembly in book 6. After the passionate speech of Alcibiades, Nicias attempts to dissuade his fellow citizens from undertaking the expedition. His attempt to demonstrate the considerable amount of resources they would need and the recklessness of such an enterprise did not get the desired effect. The citizens were even more enthusiastic because they believe they could not fail if they followed the advice of the cautious strategist.Footnote ⁷⁹ According to Aron, Thucydides's narrative thus reveals the contradiction between the intention of political men and the consequences of their actions, which constitutes the “fabric of history.”Footnote ⁸⁰

What can we learn from that? According to Aron, it supplies the political thinker or political philosopher with a specific insight into the articulations of political life by illustrating the contingency of political actions. The tragic wisdom—and truth—of Thucydides's teaching consists in his awareness and demonstration of the inescapable gap between the calculations of political actors and the consequences of their decisions and actions. Aron admires the War of the Peloponnesians and the Athenians because of the Greek historian's efforts to reflect upon the events in their indetermination. He succeeds in communicating the impression of uncertainty that precedes the moment of decision and action. Modern historians, Aron concludes, do not pay enough attention to the moments where “fate has hesitated.”Footnote ⁸¹ What one learns from political history is ultimately to “resist the retrospective illusion of inevitability.”Footnote ⁸²