Sparta is now remembered chiefly as the arch-enemy of ancient Athens, and not so much for its own achievements. The entire story of the Persian Wars, during which the quarrelsome Greeks united against Darius and Xerxes, of the Peloponnesian and Spartan Wars, which saw Athens and Sparta locked in a bloody, costly, decades-long struggle, and the wars thereafter which precipitated Athens’ slide into naval oblivion, was written by Athenians and Athenian sympathisers. Today, we acknowledge our debt to golden-age Athens every time we speak, study, represent our universe through art (in the Western tradition, at least) and, of course, congregate politically. Athens is the capital of modern Greece; Sparta isn’t even a noble ruin.
This book will do nothing to curb the historical preeminence of Athens — it is, if anything, slightly old-fashioned in its approach, glorying in Athens’ awe-inspiring naval enterprise during its golden age: the late sixth through late fourth centuries BCE. The author is the American archaeologist John R Hale, and this is his magnum opus.
Hale is a hands-on man. His book is a narrative military history with a dash of culture and politics. The thesis, in so far as there is one, is that once the Athenians had decided to recast themselves as a naval power and gather empire and glory by seaborne means (leaving mastery of the land to Spartan plodders), the effort and reorganisation required to man the fleets of warships with citizen rowers of the lowest classes, and pay for them, was instrumental in the eclipse of the aristocratic cavalry class and the rise of popular democracy. This new “navalised” nation and its rule over the sea was labelled a thalassocracy, from the Greek word for “ocean”.
For the opening scene, Hale chose the occasion of the politician Themistocles’ famous speech before the Athenian assembly in 483 BCE, in which he urged his fellow citizens to invest the wealth gained from a massive new silver-mine find in outfitting a new navy. Hale is good at describing how the famed triremes (ships with three banks of oars, designed for speed and ramming manoeuvres) were built and manned. His narrative is supported by fine line drawings by Sam Manning.
Themistocles’ speech is a fit start. Hale shows that the Athenian democratic assembly’s moods amplified the effects of good as well as bad choices: the preparation of an expedition, a decision on the shape of an alliance, the disproportionate, even monstrous punishment of estranged allies or military leaders who made a mistake or miscalculation. Apart from quick summaries and digressions, however, Hale does not dwell on politics — despite the “democracy” of the book’s title.
Themistocles built on his success in instigating the pro-navy policy to become the chief strategist and guide of Athens. Just in time, too — Xerxes launched his invasion soon after. The Athenian-led Greek navy defeated much larger Persian fleets at Artemisium and again at Salamis.
The lavish care with which these and many succeeding encounters are described reveal that Hale’s main interest here is military history. The research he undertook for this book included very thorough visits to the sites of all the major naval battles of the period of which good descriptions have survived. He reconstructs them carefully, and in some cases (notably the battle of Aegospotami in 405 BCE when Athens lost most of its fleet) is able to correct errors in the established narrative. But his text positively radiates appreciation when some general wins an unequal fight by tactical brilliance or sheer audacity.
The Athenians had a word to describe the quality of character needed. “Mêtis embraced craft, cunning, skill, and intelligence, the power of invention and the subtlety of art,” Hale explains, also saying rudely: “Indeed it ran contrary to the values of many nations, most notably the Persians.” He may be right, because although the Persians and Spartans doggedly learned how to fight on the sea, few of their leaders showed the battlefield wits of the greatest Athenians.
Empire followed victory, and Athenians had to learn from failure how not to treat allies and subjects. The fascinating fact is they did learn. One reason may be that events were so compressed. All the main events in this book occur within three human lifespans; so naturally, past successes and defeats burned strongly in Athenian memory. Then there was the fact that art followed public affairs, including the plays and histories we read now, 2,500 years later. This made art extraordinarily influential, and a means of passing on lessons learnt.
This is not a great book. There are a few awkward jumps, and Hale has little to say about the experience of the actual mariners. We don’t learn much about shipboard life, about technique and technology not directly applied to warfare, about any sort of character other than the generals. But it is still a thrilling read. And one thing we can learn from it is to consider how we want to be remembered. It is time to invest very heavily — not so much in our naval power, perhaps, as in our soft power. That’s what wins people over, in the end.
LORDS OF THE SEA
THE EPIC STORY OF THE ATHENIAN NAVY AND THE BIRTH OF DEMOCRACY
John R Hale
Penguin Viking
xxxvi + 396; $24.95