His introduction underlines the importance of tracing the vicissitudes of fortune in the fate of states and not honing to an isolated war:
I thought it, therefore, distinctly my duty neither to pass by myself, nor allow anyone else to pass by, without full study, a characteristic specimen of the dealings of Fortune at once brilliant and instructive in the highest degree. For fruitful as Fortune is in change, and constantly as she is producing dramas in the life of men, yet never assuredly before this did she work such a marvel, or act such a drama, as that which we have witnessed.
(Plb. 1.4.4–5, Shuckburgh 1962)
Polybius later cites Demetrius of Phalerum’s treatise on Tyche regarding the mutability of fortune for the Macedonians, who rose from the margins of Greek states to Alexander’s empire, then fell under Perseus. Tyche
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seems for Polybius often a kind of shorthand to explain occasions of evil being punished and virtue being rewarded in a cosmic balance sheet.
But, in the case of the rise of Rome, some have seen that force as “a conscious and purposeful power directing world events towards a closely
defined end” (Walbank 2002: 248). The apparent contradiction between
a supernatural plan and the more easily mappable course of human moti-
vation and thought is not a serious problem, since it describes a view that permeates Greek culture. Humans can suspect, and speculate on, a divine hand in things, but they can never be sure of its exact and whole design.
The “will of Zeus” is a matter for seers, who should not reveal the whole plan; human motives and actions in response to chance are more properly the historian’s – and Polybius’ – concern (on the scholarly debate about tuche ̄, see Hau 2011).
More characteristics, less universally agreed upon, could be singled
out, but we note one in particular here: human character. Character is
related to the historian’s keen and pervasive interest in human identity and its typical aspects, observed in both ethnic groups and individuals.
Character is of course also one key element in causation, and it is
connected to other themes. Craige Champion’s study usefully picks out
the crucial role of national character as a touchstone of the early books (Champion 2004: 100–43; Eckstein 1995: 260). Books 1 to 3 expound
the formation of Roman character through continual warfare with
aggressors: the courage, daring, and ferocity of Rome and its opponents.
Book 1 contrasts Roman self‐sufficiency with Carthaginian dependence,
for instance on mercenaries. Book 2 contrasts Romans with Gauls, who
are portrayed as greedy, treacherous, and impulsive. Achaean history
comes to the fore in Books 2, 4, and 5, paralleling Rome in 1, 2, and 3.
Aratus of Sicyon and Dorimachus of Aetolia represent the characteristics of their people, as Hannibal does of Carthaginian collective character.
Achaea is an exemplar of Greek character, while Aetolia shows the bar-
barous characteristics of Rome’s enemies. Throughout the work, indi-
viduals are important causative factors or instructive examples that
embody types of national character (e.g., the Illyrians Agron, Teuta, and Demetrius of Pharos), or models of leadership (e.g., Philopoemen and
Aristaenus; Q. Fabius Maximus, Flamininus, and Scipio Aemilianus) or
formidable foes (e.g., Hannibal and Philip V). In much of this manner
of observing the role of ethnicity and individual agency, we note,
Polybius does not differ greatly from his predecessors. His originality lies in his setting the factor of human nature into a strong polarity,
in which the Romans and the Achaean Greeks emerge perhaps not
as idealized paradigms, but as strongly positive models of enacted
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virtue against which many others are
measured. This stark scale
throughout the work is absent in Herodotus, Thucydides, and
Xenophon, where even the protagonists seeking to obtain or preserve
freedom have their significant flaws. Champion (2004: 137–43) has
noted the parallels between Achaea and Rome in Books 1 to 5, in which
the two cultures share a high valuation of rationality over barbarian
emotion, of legality and justice over lawlessness and aggression, and of political, economic, and military independence over a reliance on mercenaries or oppressed subjects. For both states, communal good out-
weighs individual interests and is fostered by education, law, and good government. We note that Champion has convincingly distinguished, in
Books 7 and following, a degeneration of the Roman and Achaean vir-
tues expounded in the first five, with exceptions such as Scipio
Aemilianus, who points up the decline in the morality of many Romans
contaminated by licentious Greek customs (symposia and the like). The
balanced illustration of virtue followed by some decline would then
serve as a warning signal to both Greek and Roman readers, mainly the
elite, who could claim distance from the unrestrained rabble and yet cite paradigms of past behavior as a means to foster future leaders.
Although a view of human nature informs all historians, Polybius
discusses human nature at greater lengths, more explicitly, and more
richly than any ancient historian (Eckstein 1995: 239–54; Marincola
2001: 144–8). Unlike Thucydides, Polybius does not cite “the human
factor” ( to anthro ̄ pinon, Th. 1.22.4) or human nature explicitly in his programmatic introduction. He does not, like Thucydides, represent the typical Greek binary in human nature, rationality versus the unreasoned
emotions of greed, anger, revenge, and so on. Yet throughout the work
he does invoke principles of human motivation and character, embedded
in typically pragmatic comments on individuals. It is these that afford deeper insight into his system of human nature, though “system” suggests too rigid and coherent a philosophical theory. The character sketch of Hannibal (Plb. 9.22–6) is one such crucial passage illustrating the
Polybian view of human nature. The cause of the Second Punic War, he
says, was one man and one mind ( psuche ̄), that of Hannibal. This is an oversimplification of the several causes discussed further below, but it does reveal the author’s high estimation of the human factor. Psuche ̄ may be defined as “the conscious self or personality as center of emotions, desires, and affections” as well as the “intellectual and moral self” ( LSJ s.v.
ψυχή IV). Polybius certainly admires the ability of Hannibal’s psuche ̄ to carry out such a grand ambition. Whether Hannibal was, in blunt terms,
excessively cruel or greedy is a question the historian hesitates to judge,
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since such aspects are difficult to determine and need to be seen in
context. He elaborates:
And yet is it not reasonable to suppose that there exist in the same natures
[of individuals] the most contradictory dispositions [ diatheseis]? They are compelled to change with the changes of circumstances: and so some rulers often display to those around them a disposition [ diathesin] opposite to their nature. (Plb. 9.23.4)
Diathesis is therefore a disposition or an arrangement of one’s emotions and reason in a certain composition that makes up an individual’s
character, just as one’s physiological traits constitute one’s bodily appearance. Its occurrence is noteworthy here, since normally the term hexis (“habit” or “state of mind”) is used for the psuche ̄ while diathesis is used of the state of the body, notably
in Plato (e.g., Lg. 650b). Perhaps Polybius is simply less technical in usage, or perhaps he is here emphasizing external compulsion, which determines diathesis – particularly for those in power, where circumstances can change often and require revision of aims and
plans – and downplaying the ruler’s conscious personal choice of his state of mind. The principle of contradictory disposition due to circumstances holds true for generals, rulers, kings, and even states, says Polybius, surprisingly. In the example of Athens and others, we see that the diathesis analogous to that of an individual is not an internal, mental one, but one dependent on the character of the leader: Pericles demonstrates noble
actions, Cleon tyrannical ones (Plb. 9.23.6–9). After the fall of Capua, Hannibal’s circumstances change, becoming less stable – the “crisis of
circumstances” forcing the leader to act as he would not choose to do;
unfairly, it seems, Carthaginians characterized him by his love of money and Romans by his cruelty (Plb. 9.26). Later we come across a similar
assessment of Philip V, who became more arrogant in demanding favors
of citizen women as his reign went on: “And it appears to me that the
good qualities were innate [sc. “existed in his phusis”], while the defects grew upon him as he advanced in years, as happens to some horses when
they grow old” (Plb. 10.26.8).
Another key passage on character further informs this picture.
A Polybian hero such as Aratus is faulted for cowardice in actual battle, and the author explains:
Thus human natures [ phuseis] possess something multiform [ ti polueides], not only in their bodies, but even more so in their personalities [ psuchais], so that the same man not only has an aptitude for one kind of activity and not for another, but in activities which are of the same type, the same man
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is both very clever and very dull, or similarly very bold and very cowardly.
Nor is this unexpected; it is a fact familiar to all those willing to pay attention.
(Plb. 4.8.7–8; see Eckstein 1995: 239; Marincola 2001: 144–5)
The Aratus passage suggests that the apparent contradiction in individual action is internal, while the Hannibal and Philip V sketches indicate the force of circumstances, which cause different dispositions (Eckstein 1995: 239–40; Walbank 1972: 93–8). Eckstein gives one explanation for the
apparent contradiction by suggesting that, although a person contained
internal contradictions, “there was a limit to the intensity” of such self-generated contradictions: Aratus did not reach his limit, but Hannibal and Philip V did, and acted due to external compulsions. This notion of limits explaining contradictions caused internally and externally might, in my view, be better understood simply as one of different sources of contradiction, some arising from natural dispositions ( diatheseis) within an individual psuche ̄ and others from the pressure of circumstances and the latter being particularly evident in leaders facing political and military challenges that cause them to act against or outside their normal dispositions. In any case, as Eckstein observes, this multiform aspect of human character allows
both for education ( paideia) through experience or through intellectual learning (including history) and for decline or weakening through succumbing to greed, ambition, and other vices – which is even more
frequent in practice. Didactic encouragement to aim for the “truth”
( ale ̄ theia) is Polybius’ strongest antidote to the false distractions of vice: Nature has proclaimed to men that Truth is the greatest of gods and has invested her with the greatest power [ dunamin] … she finds her own way of penetrating into the hearts [ psuchas] of men, and sometimes shows them her power at once, sometimes, after being darkened for years, at last she prevails through her own force and crushes [ katago ̄ nizetai, “defeats in a contest”] falsehood. (Plb. 13.5.4–6)
The almost divine potency of truth is a mark of Polybius’ credo, but it is directly tied to the human personality that it can change. This thinking is in line with that of Aristotle ( EN 2.1–6, 1103a14–7a25), for whom virtue ( are ̄ te) is a quality that is acquired by choice and fostered through education. “Men are good in one way, but bad in many,” notes Aristotle
( EN 1106b35, Ross), quoting a Pythagorean dictum. Since “we feel anger and fear without choice, but the virtues are modes of choice and
involve choice,” virtues are states of character ( hexeis), and not active or passive personal forces – dunameis (“faculties” or “powers”) or pathe ̄
(“passions”) ( EN 1106a2–4, 10–12). And in human choices “it is harder
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to fight with pleasure than with anger, but both art [or “skill,” techne ̄]
and virtue [or “excellence,” arete ̄] are always concerned with what is more difficult,” says Aristotle, citing Heraclitus ( EN 1105a7–9). Similarly, Polybius says (in an uncertain context): “Many men, it would seem, are
desirous of doing what is honorable, but it is only a few who venture to attempt it; and of those who do, rare indeed are those who persevere in their duty to the very end” (Plb. 27.20.3; see Eckstein 1995: 252).
Another thread current in Polybius’ day was the Stoic view that human
perversion could arise from communications with other people or from
the pressure of external circumstances, though the historian does not
reflect any specific allegiance to Peripateticism, Stoicism, or any of the
“orthodox” schools of thought (Walbank 1972: 94–6).
Therefore, along the lines of this received Greek wisdom, Polybius
portrays vice in people much more frequently than virtue and shows how
some individuals, by effort and learning, adhere to the good, but most
succumb to passions. Polybius differs from Aristotle pointedly in two
aspects, namely in specifying innate “dispositions” ( diatheseis) of the psuche ̄ rather than “states of character” ( hexeis) that involve choice and in identifying those dispositions as “aspects of human nature” ( phuseis), not of cultural learning. Still, Polybius does not adhere rigidly to a nature–
culture dualism in personalities but admits that change is possible through paideia, cultural formation.
Themes and Significant Passages
Polybius’ preface is worth a close reading that would help us appreciate his major themes and his place in the tradition of Greek historical writing (for an outline of Polybius’ text, see McGing 2010: 223‐40).
Had the praise of History been passed over by former Chroniclers it would perhaps have been incumbent upon me to urge the choice and special study of records of this sort, as the readiest means men can have of correcting their knowledge of the past. But my predecessors have not been sparing in this respect. They have all begun and ended, so to speak, by enlarging on this theme: asserting again and again that the study of History is in the truest sense an education, and a training for political life; and that the most instructive, or rather the only, method of learning to bear with dignity the vicissitudes of fortune is to recall the catastrophes of others. It is evident, therefore, that no one need think it his duty to repeat what has been said by many, and said well. Least of all myself: for the surprising nature of the events which I have undertaken to relate is in itself sufficient to challenge
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and stimulate the attention of everyone, old or young, to the study of my work. Can anyone be so indifferent or idle as not to care to know by what means, and under what kind of polity, almost the whole inhabited world
was conquered and brought under the dominion of the single city of Rome, and that too within a period of not quite fifty‐three years? Or who again can be so completely absorbed in other subjects
of contemplation or study, as to think any of them superior in importance to the accurate understanding of an event for which the past affords no precedent? (Plb. 1.1, Shuckburgh)
Prior historians are called, literally, “those writing up” ( anagraphontes) their assembled data for public readership, the “up” marking the public visibility, as in an inscription’s being “set up.” It should be observed that Thucydides used the different term sungraphein (literally “to write [what has been gathered] together”), emphasizing the collection of data in his process (Th. 1.1.1). In the passage above, Polybius notes that others before him have said “again and again that the study of History is in the truest sense an education, and a training for political life; and that the most instructive, or rather the only, method of learning to bear with dignity the vicissitudes of fortune is to recall the catastrophes of others.” We have here two key points, namely that history ( historia) is the truest form of instructive upbringing ( paideia) and literally of exercise (training, gumnasia) for activities in the city‐state: not just for political life in our sense, but in the Greek sense, which implies all citizens’ responsibility for being engaged in communal life. It is in this sense that Polybius labeled his work a “pragmatic”
history ( pragmatike ̄ historia), since it overtly claims a practical use: that of applying lessons from the past to one’s present society. It is also “pragmatic”
or “factual” in that it cites empirical data such as documents, memoirs, geographical observation, and eyewitness interviews. Thus both the content and the aim are pragmatic. Second, the aims of this particular work are to explain the remarkable phenomenon of the Mediterranean coming under
the dominion ( arche ̄, also signifying “empire”) of all people – except for the
“idle,” who have no engagement in civic life; and to explain how and by what type of state the whole inhabited world (i.e., the Mediterranean) was overpowered and forced under the rule of the Romans alone – moreover,
how this was done in about half a century. This programmatic statement, then, alerts readers to expect generic and pragmatic lessons in civic behavior and to learn in particular the character and process of Roman rule. There is here no high praise for the moral values of the Romans, though this is present later, but a focus on the phenomenon of power extended widely,
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