Vassiliki Pothou has provided us with a comprehensive and immensely helpful overview of Thucydidean motifs in Josephus’s Judean War. That Josephus had read his Thucydides is, of course, not news, nor that he strove to emulate him. What Pothou’s study does offer is a valuable analysis of the means of such emulation, of the tangible philological traces of Josephus’s reception of Thucydides. It is as a guide to these traces—sometimes easily discernable, but more frequently requiring intimate knowledge of Thucydidean turns of phrase and hapax legomena—that the monograph makes an original contribution.
Following a brief outline of previous work and a discussion of relevant theoretical problems, Chapter Three provides an overview of intertextual references to Thucydidean themes in the Judean War. This part of the investigation covers subjects as diverse as plague, the fate of non-combatants, meteorological phenomena, and nightly battles. Pothou convincingly argues against a narrow concept of intertextuality, consciously widening her net to include not only direct borrowing and the emulation of phrases, syntax, and other strictly philological phenomena but also analogies in thematic emphasis, reference to shared topoi, and common compositional characteristics. The introduction, theoretical considerations, and this major chapter together account for approximately three-fifths of the monograph. The remainder consists of explorations of individual aspects of the Judean War and their possible Thucydidean influences: geography, villains, the art of war, law, stasis, philosophy, psychology, prayer, and chronology are all covered in the shorter Chapters Four through Twelve. Chapter Thirteen devotes particular attention to the auctorial role of each historian, before the much-discussed question of editorial assistants is addressed in the final Chapter Fourteen. A current bibliography is included, as are helpful indices.
No single review could do justice to the manifold observations and arguments contained within the respective chapters. Nevertheless, at least three main theses emerge across them. First, Josephus thematically grouped his content in ways similar to Thucydides, and likely inspired by him. Second, for central concepts of his work—stasis, to name one—he heavily relied on his Athenian predecessor. And finally, Josephus’ contribution is fundamentally derivative whereas Thucydides creatively expanded the repertoire of Greek historiography. The first argument’s merit is beyond dispute. The analogies between the Josephan and Thucydidean treatments of their respective subject matter are too close to deny, and sheer chronology, of course, dictates the Judean’s indebtedness to the Athenian. Pothou’s meticulous analysis of the Judean War is eye-opening as to the depth and thoroughness of Josephus’ treatment of his material before composition. He clearly went to great lengths to ensure that his narrative conformed to the expectations of an audience steeped in the historiographic traditions surrounding the Peloponnesian War. Chapter 3.1.5 Das Motiv der Ankündigung is especially instructive in this regard, as it highlights the systematic nature of compositional parallels.
It is unfortunate, then, that these valuable textual observations at times fail to lead to fruitful analysis. The comparative evaluation of both authors’ approaches is an illuminating example. Thucydidean accuracy and scrupulousness are contrasted with Josephus’s maßlose Unwissenheit und mangelnde Genauigkeit in der Chronologie (p. 193). His supposed ignorance is, however, demonstrated under recourse to no other evidence than chronological contradictions between his own accounts in Judean War and Jewish Antiquities. The notion of different rhetorical intentions across the two historiographical works, which has enjoyed the status of communis opinio in recent scholarship, is not entertained.[1] Nor is the fact that a first-century audience would have reacted to such inconsistencies across a body of work in ways different from a twenty-first century one. Instead, a minority position is espoused, which envisions Josephus carelessly “soldering,” this is assembling his narratives out of conflicting sources and welding them together (p. 194). The blanket judgement finding keine methodologische Disziplin, keine konzeptionelle Kontinuität, keine thematische Orientierung is in fact extended to the Judean’s entire body of work (p. 194). Selective use of scholarship and an essential notion of each author’s respective quality seem to reinforce each other, and undermine the excellent philological, textually comparative work otherwise carried out in the book.[2] The argument’s conclusion—that the audience of the Judean War might have been tolerant of inconsistencies due to its ignorance of Thucydides—raises more questions than it answers. Most importantly, especially in the context of the monograph’s overall subject matter, we must ask, why then did Josephus thematically and conceptually rely so much on the Athenian predecessor?[3]
The challenges mentioned above resurface frequently throughout this work. Brilliant observations, for example regarding the Herodotean substratum received by Josephus via Thucydides and skillfully used for the composition of Agrippa’s address to the people on the eve of war, are marred by a pervading normative dichotomy (pp. 126-27). Whereas Thucydides “alludes to a motif” or displays “unconventionality with an elite aspiration,” Josephus “instrumentalizes” or betrays his “banality” (p. 127) and “inefficiency” (p. 89). Such binary oppositions paired with a thorough knowledge of War produce recurrent contradictions, often in close proximity: That Josephus was an author of “Jewish identity” and “Hellenized consciousness” of course implies that something had happened to a kind of primordial, original, authentic consciousness, now diluted by writing Greek and anchoring his people’s history in a Graeco-Roman frame of reference (p. 29).[4] Still, but a few sentences later, parallels to authors such as Dio Chrysostomos or Aelius Aristides are recognized, putting Josephus more firmly into the literary fold of his near-contemporaries (p. 30). Josephus wrote the Judean War to explain the Greco-Roman World and Judaism to each other – but his goal was not an apology.[5] Essential distinctions between Hebrew orthodoxy and Grecophone modernism, presupposing the Rabbinic developments of late antiquity, are here retrojected onto the Second Temple environment (p. 37). This is all the more unfortunate, as relevant insights in this context, for example by Stemberger or Goodenough, are received—and affirmed—elsewhere; yet their refutal of such retrojections is not addressed.[6] At times, such essentialism stands in the way of the exploitation of an already-achieved interpretative breakthrough. As Landau’s insights regarding the role of natural disasters in Herodotus, Thucydides, and Josephus are confirmed, the similarity is immediately disqualified as “superficial” and “artificial” (p. 72). Man vermag sich Josephus kaum mit dem philosophischen Hintergrund von Thukydides vorzustellen is the assessment – and a key hermeneutical problem, it seems. Instead, a supposed lack of personal piety is adduced to explain the similarity to the Athenian’s philosophical inclinations. It is only consistent with this perspective to deny Josephus’ people any Lebenswillen beyond the destruction of the Temple (p. 87). Thucydides in turn must be an historian of Kampf and Leben, Josephus of Niederlage and Tod.
Conceptually, the book’s strengths—precise work on the text and immense knowledge of the Greek historiographical tradition but also well-observed parallels drawn from relevant intertexts[7]—might have shone brighter if embedded in a more convincing structure. While the unequal distribution and internal organization between longer chapters and shorter sections is of less importance, a separate, distinct conclusion to the monograph rather than the return to the question of assistants and the possible inclusion of Epaphroditus, Josephus’s benefactor, in their ranks would have been helpful.[8] There are minor factual errors but they are mostly insignificant. According to Josephus, not one single witness, but two women and some children survived Masada,[9] and Sabinus, the Roman hero first to mount a key defensive wall during the final onslaught on Jerusalem, was not governor of Syria but a simple soldier from there.[10] Similarly insignificant are the few orthographical errors.[11]
In conclusion, the work is an indispensable aid for any scholar interested in how Josephus interacted with his literary predecessors in the field of historiography. The meticulous attention to philological detail and insightful observations make for profitable reading not only for philologists but also for ancient historians. Essentialist pitfalls and obstacles to more plausible readings of authorial intention could have been avoided though. It is, in fact, Pothou’s invaluable and stimulating collection of material that invites scholars across disciplines to consider Josephus’ Thucydides not as a “second-hand” but rather an independent contribution to the Greek historiographical tradition.
Notes
[1] This is especially true concerning the specific example of Herod’s domestic misfortunes; cf. only Van Henten and Jan Willem: ‘Herod the Great in Josephus,’ in Honora Howell Chapman and Zuleika Rodgers (eds.), A Companion to Josephus in His World, Chichester 2015, 235–246 for the briefest of summaries of his role across both the Judean War and Jewish Antiquities, as well as an overview of recent scholarship.
[2] Cf. also the matter-of-fact classification of War as an Auftragsarbeit (p. 13), the treatment of the Testimonium Flavianum as authentic (p. 38), or the equation of philological training with high civic status (p. 224); all these matters are subjects of controversy, and treatment of conflicting perspectives would strengthen the monograph.
[3] A later section of the contribution does however assume the audience’s familiarity with the work of Thucydides: p. 111.
[4] Cf. also p. 108 for the characteristic distinction between the mastery of Thucydidean “language” and his critical “spirit”.
[5] Pp. 30–31 and 15, respectively.
[6] Cf. notes 87–88, p. 39.
[7] Cf. only p. 195 for the surprising similarities to Caesar’s self-depiction as author and protagonist.
[8] Cf. pp. 224–230.
[9] Cf. Ios. Bell. Iud. 7.399–402 and p. 77.
[10] Cf. Ios. Bell. Iud. 6.57 and p. 160.
[11] Pp. 122, 136, 151.