In 2019, I published an article on Markus’ Signs and Meanings: World and Text in Ancient Christianity. Now I want revisit this collection of lectures in light of my dissertation, which is inspired by it. When writing my review, I had foresight of some of the issues that would occupy my thinking. For example, I mentioned Markus’ concept of ‘linguistic communities’ and the fact that he covers semiotics. I now want to expand my discussion of these issues, as well as cover his chapter on Gregory the Great, the most relevant to my dissertation
Lets begin however by reiterating the central thesis of this collection, that is how individuals read scripture influenced their worldview or how the way they ‘read’ the world. My work looks at this, but through a comparison with Paul Ricouer. If scripture influences how we interpret reality, then we need to look at if modern hermeneutical theories can be compared with historic ones, in order to understand whether they can be applied to the past. This forms the core of my dissertation. I am therefore heavily indebted to Markus for my project.
However, I now wish to comment on Markus’ treatment of Gregory. Compared to Augustine, Gregory gets very little space- only one chapter. However, Markus nevertheless has some interesting things to say. A sentence I raised in my review was as follows: ‘The complexity of Augustine’s world had collapsed into simplicity. Compared with Augustine, Gregory could take for granted the settled contours of his spiritual landscape.’ However, I would raise Gregory’s view of the world was far from simple. He read scripture in multiple senses, meaning he also read the world in multiple ways. His insistence on the importance of allegory would have also complicated this picture- he would have seen allegory all around him. Furthermore, we need to consider, admittedly as Markus mentions, the turmoil in Italy during the period he was alive. Markus writes ‘convinced of the crumbling away of the fabric of the material world around him, of the remnants of the Roman past, he was driven to look beyond’. Essentially, Markus is suggesting that Gregory distanced himself from the world of immediate experience (which was perhaps equivalent to the historical sense) to focus more on spirituality. But surely a spiritual reading of the world is more complicated than a sensory one? I would argue that Gregory’s view of the world was far from simple.
An interesting point raised in the chapter on Gregory is that ‘understanding a miracle is like reading a script and understanding its meaning’. This point of view has implications for my chapter on Gregory’s Dialogues. That book contains miracle stories and my study shall aim to understand how Gregory read these scripts of events and how he viewed the world in relationship to deciphering their meaning.
I now wish to comment on semiotics. I understated the importance of this topic in my review of Signs and Meanings , I now believe this topic to be crucial in linking text to world. Markus writes ‘signs are the most indispensable means of directing the mind’s attention to things, and that nothing, therefore, can be learnt without the use of signs’. Signs are present everywhere in the world, but they are also present in a text. Text and world both share the same system of signification, one uses words, the other uses all the senses. Yet how one person reads the world is vastly different to how another reads it. We need to consider the fact that the self (where the scriptural interpretative ideas reside) needs a connection to the world as well. Idhe, in Hermeneutic Phenomenology: The Philosophy of Paul Ricoeur, comments ‘man is language’. We therefore have three things connected, the self, text and world all by language. Semiotics plays a crucial role, in three layers, when we discuss how scripture influences worldviews.
I therefore want to propose the relationship between the world and the self is determined by their mutual linguisticality. Originally, I believed the answer lay in emotions. I thought this for two reasons. The first was due to William Reddy’s idea of emotives. He argues that emotional utterances automatically confirm the world outside of language through failing at representation- my belief was that this created a bridge to link the world and the self. Secondly, Markus, while commenting on Augustine, writes that love is the emotion that urges the mind to discover the meaning of a sign in reality. Therefore, mind and world are connected again by emotions. However, this position no longer seems tenable, it is now clear that language conditions on three fronts therefore uniting them, to an arguable extent, by their shared characteristics of reference.
This post has made me think long and hard about semiotics, the relationship between world and text, and at times I have went on a bit of a philosophical ramble. However, I believe that the purpose of these posts is to give me a way of developing ideas and showing them in the creation stage. Therefore, my answers need refining, but I hope so far you have been given insight into my thinking.
Strangely, emotions also get another mention in this post (I took an undergraduate course on emotions). Barbara Rosenwein introduced the concept of emotional communities to help understand Late Antiquity. However, Markus, writing before Rosenwein, already theorised the Late Antiquity consisted of linguistic communities that shared the same world of reference. I think communities are a useful concept, however we need to be careful when using them as an idea. How do we define their boundaries? What about the relationship between the self and others? How can we be sure that individuals were viewing things or objects the same way? This sounds like a radical scepticism, but I have few answers to these questions at this stage. What I would like to say is that if language conditions the self then surely a being’s mind has similar features to that of another being’s (which is also determined by language).
Markus argues that it is through signs we discover the shared world of reference. Yet people read the world in different ways. This is problematic. Again, I need more time to ruminate on this. I will hopefully be able to tell you my answers when I have finished my section on going beyond ‘Gregory’ with the ideas of my dissertation. Nevertheless, it is hoped this post has provided insight into my thoughts and the stimulating intellectual challenges I am facing as I discuss the relationship between hermeneutics and phenomenology.
Bibliography:
Idhe, Don. Hermeneutic Phenomenology: The Philosophy of Paul Ricoeur. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1971
Markus, Robert A. Signs and Meanings: World and Text in Ancient Christianity. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1996.
Reddy, William. “Against Constructionism: The Historical Ethnography of Emotions.” Current Anthropology 38, no. 3 (1997): 327-51.
Rosenwein, Barbara. Emotional Communities in the Early Middle Ages. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2006.
I have decided to keep a dissertation journal for my MA thesis. I did one for my undergraduate dissertation on my old blog, but it seems fitting to do one for this blog, given its philosophical themes. This post, in particular, will introduce my ideas and reveal some of the questions I am interested in. This post is general and about big ideas, that inspire me, I will get down to the detail in later posts.
I picked up an Oxford World Classics’s edition of Aristotle’s psychological works, including ‘On The Soul’, the other day, from Waterstones. I mention this not because my dissertation will focus on Aristotle, though I may use some commentaries on him for later projects after my MA, but because it illuminates some of the questions I am interested in. After browsing through the book, I noticed some themes, such as perception and subject-object relations. In summary, the anthology has a number of chapters that focus on how the self relates to anything outside the self. My MA dissertation will focus on this relationship between the ego and what is outside.
However, my dissertation’s starting point has theological as well as philosophical undertones. You may remember in 2019 I reviewed Robert Markus’ Signs and Meanings: World and Text in Ancient Christianity. This book examines hermeneutics, most notably Augustine’s and Gregory the Great’s, but its most interesting point is that the author’s scriptural views influenced how they interpreted the world. This forms one of the bases of my thesis, I want to examine how Late Antique hermeneutics affected one’s experience of the world. My dissertation therefore has a phenomenological dimension as well. I have chosen Gregory the Great’s Homilies on Ezekiel as my main primary source for this task of exploring how the self relates to what is outside. I decided on this because it covers a range of interesting themes, like prophecy and visions, which are sure to add an extra layer to the discussion surrounding interpretation. There was also a practical reason, I can do the Homilies on Ezekiel justice in 20,000 words and I could not have done this for the more famous and more studied Commentary on Job.
However, the Homilies on Ezekiel shall not form the only text I will study in my dissertation. One section of it will compare the writings of Gregory the Great to the continental philosopher Paul Ricoeur. I have chosen the latter writer because he takes a phenomenological approach to hermeneutics, which is kind of what Markus does without necessarily stating clearly stating it. There are other writers who hermeneutic phenomenologists, like Gadamer and Heidegger, but I chose Ricouer because he has written a lot on religion and scriptural interpretation. This would allow a more direct comparison with Gregory the Great. I was also advised to narrow down my focus.
There is a purpose to comparing Gregory and Ricoeur and it goes beyond identifying similarities or differences. I want to see if it is possible to build a meta-theory of interpreting Late Antique experience. Can modern insights, like those of Ricoeur, be applied to the past with a base in the evidence? I often think modern theories may not be the best tools for understanding the past. It is, in my opinion, better to seek out theories from the time period themselves then test modern theories against them. I believe doing this could lend great support to modern theories, especially if they are supported by evidence. This all makes me sound like an empiricist and I think I am. However, not in the narrow sense of looking for facts. I am empirical in the sense of wanting to understand how people came into contact the world- how they sensed it. There is no reason not to believe people in the past experienced the world differently to us in terms of how they perceived and indeed interpreted the world. My use of interpretation here may seem to go against my empiricism, but it does not. Interpretation and hermeneutics directly affect how we pick up the world.
Some, who have read my posts, may find it odd that I have declared myself as an empiricist. I have written on postmodernism quite a lot, such as Cillier’s synthesis of postmodernism and complexity theory or on postmodern theology. I believe postmodernism is not necessarily at odds with my empirical vision, if its theories can be grounded in comparative evidence. One of the main purposes of my dissertation is to establish this comparative approach between modern and historic theories. I believe this is pivotal if we are to understand the past. Critics would likely raise here that we do not necessarily always have the evidence for such comparisons. This is a question my dissertation will explore, given the fact we only have several hermeneutical texts by Gregory the Great. It is hoped my dissertation will contribute to an effort to see if such a vision of history, as I have declared, is practical.
You could be wondering at this point what have my ideas got to do with practical research. Well, that is why I am dedicating a chapter to applying the potentially developed meta-theory to Gregory the Great’s Dialogues. I want to consider how big questions affect practice. What happens if we apply this envisaged theory to a text? Gregory, may have experienced the world differently to us, so what happens when we apply the combined Late Antique and Modern theory to a source? Does it stand the test? How can we understand texts differently?
I have a lot of questions and ideas at this stage, as you can see, and these will likely be narrowed down. However, it is hoped this post has given some insights into my thinking at an early stage of my dissertation and also the philosophical questions I am interested in. With regards to future posts about my dissertation, they will likely have a more specific focus. I will discuss the different stages I am at and how research has reformulated my questions and answers. I may also do smaller posts containing interesting points that I have discovered or found out. Regardless, it is thrilling to be doing this project and I hope in the end it can provide some clarity on my big questions.
Bibliography:
Primary Sources
Aristotle, On the Soul translated by Fred D. Miller Jr in Aristolle: On the Soul and Other Psychological Works. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018.
Gregory the Great, Dialogues translated by Edmund G. Gardener in The Dialogues of St Gregory the Great. Merchantville: Evolution Publishing and Manufacturing, 2010.
Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel translated by Theodosia Tomkinson in Homilies on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel. Perrysville: Centre for Traditionalist Orthodox Studies, 2010.
Secondary Sources
Caputo, John. What Would Jesus Deconstruct?: The Good News of Postmodernity For The Church. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007.
This post reviews the 2005 book ‘The Fall of Rome and The End of Civilisation’by Bryan Ward-Perkins.
The title of the book reviewed in this post is no doubt meant to stir controversy. To call the end of the Western Roman Empire ‘the end of civilisation’ is a very bold claim indeed. It seems at odds with the concept of Late Antiquity and the idea of a non-catastrophic transformation into the medieval. Therefore, I picked this book to try and challenge my views about the era. Based on the title, I was expecting a polemical account of the end of the Empire. However, this did not prove to be the case, Ward-Perkins left more room for nuance than I expected. At the same time, after reading the book, I still do not subscribe to his views. The end of the Western Roman Empire was far too complex to be named ‘the end of civilisation.’
The first notable about Ward-Perkins’ approach is that he argues that the barbarian migrations were violent and mainly (though not completely) down to conquest. He also suggests they were the main reason for the fall of the Empire in the west. The author writes ‘the relatively benign conditions of the fourth-century West rapidly disappeared in the first decade of the fifth century, as a consequence of invasion.’ Italy, Gaul and the Iberian peninsular all faced conflict within this decade. Consequentially, Ward-Perkins argues, the Empire was deprived of its tax base just when it needed it the most. Civil wars and the uprising of the so-called Bacaudae also played a part in these apparently tumultuous times.
The idea that the migrations were violent seems at odd with theories that suggest the barbarians were accommodated within the Empire through treaties. Ward-Perkins does not deny the existence of such agreements. For example, the Visigoths were given part of Aquitaine, centred on the Garonne Valley, in 419. However, he suggests that these grants were insignificant compared to the land gained by conquest. In fact, he states that the role of treaties of accommodation has been massively overplayed. I do not agree with this point. Conquest and violence undoubtedly took place, but accommodation within the Empire was certainly a major factor. References to settlement are found within The Burgundian Code and The Code of Euric. If accommodation was not a pivotal mechanism for settlement, it would not be found in major law codes such as these. Admittedly, Ward-Perkins concedes some ground, suggesting land was shared throughout Italy following Odoacer’s usurpation, so he cannot be seen completely as anti-accommodation. Furthermore, it is worth noting that he states land was shared. This it at odds with Goffart, who argues that barbarians were granted 1/3 of a share of tax revenue instead of physical land. In my opinion, it is easy to fall into a rule-based trap with the so-called Hospitalitas debate. I envisage the Romans likely adapted to different situations and granted land or tax revenue based on individual circumstances. As Goffart suggests, Cassiodorus’ Variae can be interpreted as offering a tax-based solution, whereas it is much harder to deny the granting of physical land for the Visigoths in The Code of Euric, which makes direct references to land disputes between Romans and barbarians. We need to view the settlements in a non-mechanistic fashion instead of presuming there was only one way of reaching agreement.
Ward-Perkins’ claim that the fall of the Western Empire resulted in ‘the end of civilisation’ is mainly based on a range of material evidence. Notably, evidence such as pottery, coinage, tiles and buildings. The quality of these, according to him, declined substantially towards and after the end of empire. This, apparently, proves that the Roman economy lost its sophistication, which is sign in the decline of quality of life. I take a degree of issue with Ward-Perkins presumptions here. Again, admittedly, he raises some of the points his opponents may state. However, can quality of life really be determined by the types of evidence he cites? I am not sure myself. Furthermore, as Ward-Perkins himself notes, decline if present was not universally felt across the former empire. The situation in Britain was much more dire to the prosperous Italy (in part) and North Africa, which both had long periods of peace.
A further point worth highlighting is Ward-Perkins’ treatment of ethnicity. He writes ‘there is no reason to believe, as people once did, that ethnic behaviour and identity are genetically transmitted, and therefore immutable.’ He therefore thankfully takes a view that ethnicity is not biological. However, he also argues there are significant barriers to changing one’s identity, both in a person’s mind and in the group one wishes to join. Ward-Perkins therefore suggests changing ethnicity is a complicated process and takes a long time. He states ‘the fusion of peoples that emerged out of the Germanic settlements took centuries to develop.’ I again, do not fully subscribe to this point. In my opinion, ethnicity is often overstated as a factor in social relations, perhaps due to its prominence in modern discourse. Nevertheless, ethnicity certainly existed in Late Antiquity, the question is more about its fluidity.
Aside from this, I also believe Ward-Perkins makes some potentially dangerous points. He writes ‘for better or worse (and often it is for the worse) some cultures are more sophisticated than others’. I am not arguing for a completely relativistic view, but judging cultures based on their apparent sophistication is risky territory and open to abuse. Furthermore, the author argues ‘it is a mistake to treat all empires of the past as universally bad in an undifferentiated way.’ Again, this seems dangerous, but thankfully he also writes ‘I am no advocated of twenty–first century Imperialism.’ He therefore closely avoids advocating empire as a a form of government.
To conclude, after reading Ward-Perkins’ book, I have not completely changed my mind. I still think Late Antiquity is a better concept than the rather extravagant claim that the end of the Western empire was ‘the end of civilisation.’ At the same time, I have no doubt that Ward-Perkins does leave room for some nuance, he does not paint a completely negative picture. Therefore, to summarise, I mainly disagree with ‘The Fall of Rome and The End of Civilisation’ and its arguments, but I do not think it deserves to be treat as a mere polemic.
This post shall review Torsten Cumberland Jacobsen’s 2009 book, which is titled ‘The Gothic War: Rome’s Final Conflict in the West.’
I must admit a certain deficiency in knowledge with regards to the Gothic War. Mostly, I know about the Ostrogothic Kingdom during the reign of Theoderic the Great, but not after his death. Therefore, it made sense to me to try and find a secondary text that discussed the conflict. Jacobsen’s popular and mainly narrative account is such a suitable introduction.
The book starts by providing the context of the Gothic War. It covers events such as Justinian’s conquest of Africa and the Nika Uprisings. It therefore describes the beginning of Justinian’s so-called ‘reconquests’ of the Western Roman Empire. According to Jacobsen, the stabilisation of the Imperial borders after the chaotic events of the fifth and fourth centuries allowed this focus on reclaiming lost territories. It is notable that the author presents the wars with a ‘reconquest’ viewpoint. This is at odds with Arnold who effectively claims that Theoderic’s Ostrogothic Kingdom was essentially the Roman Empire restored. The introductory chapter also introduces Procopius, who was secretary to Belisarius, one of the main generals during the wars in Italy. Procopius’ History of the Wars is the main source for Jacobsen’s book and it is heavily quoted throughout. The next chapter provides the Ostrogothic context, after the chapter on the Eastern Roman Empire. It discusses early Gothic history and their earlier wars with the Romans. Furthermore, it describes their conversion to Arianism, as well as making other introductory points. The third chapter looks at Theoderic in Italy, including events such as his conquest of Italy from Odoacer, alongside giving a small glimpse into his reign. Interestingly, Jacobsen also writes ‘Theoderic was perhaps the most civilised barbarian the former Western Roman Empire would ever see.’ This would align with the view that Theoderic’s reign was not a period of darkness for Italy and the other possessions of the Ostrogoths. Although, Jacobsen still falls short of calling the kingdom ‘Roman’.
After discussing the early chapters of the text, it is worth highlighting how Jacobsen treats Gothic ‘ethnicity’. Firstly, he does not see it as static, biological and unchanging. In fact, he states ‘ethnicity in a tribe was fluid’ and ‘to be a Goth or to be part of the Gothic confederation was more a question of attitude than a question of race and ethnicity’. The author certainly does not fall into the trap of approaching ethnicity in a outdated manner. A second point to be considered is how Jacobsen describes the early Gothic migrations as ‘a gradual aggregation’ under the name ‘Goth’. There were apparently no great wars or single large migrations. A further noteworthy point regarding ethnicity is also raised later in the text, when the author describes how Goths and Romans often switched sides due to low morale. ‘Gothic’ or ‘Roman’ identities were not pivotal in the theatre of war, with loyalty to particular generals being more important.
After looking at the Gothic and Eastern Roman context, the book switches to a narrative of mainly military events. This is no surprise given the title of the book and its aims to provide a detailed account of the sixth-century Gothic War. Jacobsen initially writes about the early stages of the war, such as the Sicilian campaign and the Siege of Neapolis. He then discusses the deposition of Theodahad as King of the Ostrogoths and his replacement by Vitigis. After this, the first Siege of Rome is described in-depth. The treatment of this siege is particularly notable for how the author covers every minuscule particular of it. The Gothic attempt to retake Rome from Justinian’s armies was however disastrous with Vitigis only setting a full blockade of the city late during the course of the siege. The Goths, a recurring theme throughout the war, were not adept with regards to sieges and they preferred pitched battles instead. The next chapters describe the campaign for Ravenna and its eventual fall to the Romans. The attempts to siege or take certain settlements in Italy, such as Mediolanum and Ancona, are also covered in these chapters. The Roman campaign for Italy and its initial successes are therefore adequately described.
Next, the book switches to contextual events outside of Italy. It especially looks at events in Africa, such as the uprisings there as well as conflicts with the Moors, while also examining affairs on the eastern frontier with Persia as well. Jacobsen is keen to show here, as he does throughout the text, that Italy and the Gothic War cannot be viewed in isolation. The Late Antique world was heavily connected, especially throughout the Mediterranean. No part of it can be understood in isolation. This important point is reinforced by the author’s continuous description of events involving the Franks, who periodically intervened in the conflict between the Eastern Roman Empire and the Ostrogoths.
It is clear from Jacobsen’s work, that the accession of Totila to the throne in 541, following the death of Eraric, marked a transition point in the war for Italy. Totila, unlike Theodahad, Vitigis and Eraric, managed to recover large portions of Italy for the Ostrogoths. Therefore, revitalising a cause that at one point had appeared lost. Following on this, the book details the second and third Sieges of Rome, as the Goths and Romans kept on exchanging blows. The accounts of these engagements are not as in-depth as the first one, but they nevertheless provide an insight into how siege warfare was conducted during the Gothic War. Subsequent to these chapters, another change of fortunes in the war is described, with the Romans on the advance again. Their march forward, as covered by Jacobsen, culminated in a battle at Taginae which was a disastrous defeat for the Goths. This battle effectively marked the end of the war for the Goths and so a full account of it is given. Gothic resistance did not collapse after Taginae, for example Teia succeeded the slain Totila to the throne, but it did end any hopes of a Gothic victory. Therefore, the history of the Ostrogothic Kingdom came to a crushing end.
One thing I believe worth noting in this review is how Jacobsen approaches certain historical figures. Belisarius, the Roman general, is shown to be a pivotal figure in Justinian’s attempts to conquer the Western Empire. Jacobsen writes ‘there would have been no wars of Justinian if Belisarius had not been available.’ and he compares the Roman general to figures such as Caesar and Hannibal. Totila is also highly praised, not surprising given his successful military campaigns. ‘He won almost all his battles’ and was ‘a wise politician’ according to the author. However, what is particularly interesting is Jacobsen’s treatment of the Emperor Justinian and his project in the West. His empire may have been enlarged by his wars, but ‘the provinces of the West may have been a liability rather than an asset’ due to the fact that they required soldiers from the East to guard them and also because they yielded insufficient revenue for their own defence. Furthermore, Justinian’s victories were only temporary. Roman Spain was attacked by the Visigoths, Africa by the Moors, and Italy by the Lombards. The portrait given of Justinian is therefore not completely favourable, unlike the accounts of Belisarius and Totila.
‘The Gothic War, Rome’s Final Conflict in the West’ also contains a number of appendices describing the structure of the opposing armies. One source used to do this is the Notitia Dignitatum, which contained a list of all military units in the empire. It therefore highlights the changes in Roman military set-up between the third and sixth centuries. Furthermore, Jacobsen writes about the different types of troops available, as well as logistics, recruitment and other practical factors. The appendix also looks at the Goths, it covers matters such their infantry and cavalry, while also reinstating the polyethnic nature of their army. It combined people, following the defeat of Odoacer, who were part of the Western Roman army as well Rugians, Sueves and Scirians, among others. Jacobsen therefore repeatedly shows that the war was not simply between Goths and Romans surrounding Italy, but rather that there were deserters on both sides, as well as allies from other ‘barbarian’ peoples in the two armies. Overall, the appendices are a welcome addition to the book, as Jacobsen somewhat forfeits analysis of military tactics, throughout the main narrative. The appendices successfully fill in this gap. Finally, a chronology of events is provided towards the end, it offers a helpful reminder of some of the important dates in the war.
To conclude, Jacobsen’s ‘The Gothic War, Rome’s Final Conflict in The West’ offers a good account of the series of military events it describes. Narrative is often used in favour of analysis, but the appendices help to counterbalance this. The author also makes some nuanced points regarding Gothic ethnicity and its relation to the war. Meanwhile, its approach to certain personas, like Belisarius and Justinian, is interesting and thought-provoking. The reminder to place the Gothic War in the context of the world of Late Antiquity is also well made. Therefore, to summarise, if one is looking for a text that describes the war in-depth then Jacobsen’s book is a good option.
In this post I shall discuss my experience of reading Søren Kierkegaard’s ‘The Concept of Anxiety’, also sometimes known as ‘The Concept of Dread’.
I must admit approaching this post that I found this book a challenging, but equally rewarding, book. Concepts such as ‘sin’ and ‘guilt’ are found throughout and it is not always easy understanding what Kierkegaard means when engaging with the Christian faith. Nevertheless, the focus on ‘anxiety’ is an interesting one. I bought this book hoping to find a philosophical approach to anxiety which may help with that state of mind which we all sometimes find ourselves in. I am a firm believer in the idea that philosophy should have a practical impact. Did the book do this? Unfortunately, apart from a few observations, it generally did not provide a complete answer, in my opinion, on how to approach anxious situations. Yet in this post I shall still discuss the observations I found most interesting and useful, alongside other ideas which were present throughout the text.
On the other hand, its comments on anxiety are still sometimes thought-provoking. One idea that I found particularly engaging is that anxiety is the result of freedom. Kierkegaard writes ‘anxiety is the dizziness of freedom’ and later states ‘anxiety is constantly to be conceived here in terms of freedom. Therefore, the presence of free will causes anxiety because we can make any decision we want. Anxiety arises from the possibilities in the world. Kierkegaard also comments that anxiety is future driven. This point seems obvious, but it is nevertheless pivotal to still state it. Anxiety only depends on the potentialities of the future- if something from the past is making us anxious it is only because it may influence what lies ahead.
Kierkegaard also makes some other observations about anxiety. He states that it ‘through being a synthesis the human being can me made anxious, and the more profoundly, the greater the human being.’ There are several points made in this instance. Firstly, it highlights Kierkegaard’s insistence throughout the book that human beings are a mixture of mind and body supported by spirit. Humans are a synthesis of mind and body and are not composed of two separate parts, like in the Cartesian view. What has this to do with anxiety? Well, Kierkegaard writes that ‘as a beast or an angel, a human being could not be made anxious’. Beasts (body/material) and angels (mind/spiritual) can not get anxious like humans because they are not a synthesis. Humans are also a combination of finitude and infinitude because of their synthetic nature. I tend to agree with Kierkegaard here on that humans are combination of mind and body, to me it seems the best way of dismissing the older binary view that differentiates between the two.
The other point made in the above is the greater the human the greater the anxiety. This links to Kierkegaard’s earlier comments about genius. Geniuses are, according to Kierkegaard, strongest in the moment of danger. However, their anxiety lays in the moment before and after an anxiety has passed, when they must face the great unknown of fate. While I do not exactly adhere to the concept of geniuses, intelligence is far more complex and diverse than that, Kierkegaard does make a valid insight here. Anxiety is often about the past or future, it is rarely in the moment. It is also interesting how Kierkegaard refers to ‘the great unknown that is fate’, which seems to contradict his earlier point about anxiety being the dizziness of freedom. Kierkegaard, it appears, believes in a mixture of free will and determinism, which is yet another synthesis on his part. I have not exactly thought or read a lot about free will before, but then our actions and lives are, in my view, often both the victim of circumstance and our own choices in particular moments.
Sin, as mentioned, is also a theme that is repeated throughout The Concept of Anxiety. In fact, Kierkegaard ties it closely to anxiety. He writes ‘anxiety is the psychological state that precedes sin, that comes as close as possible to it, as anxiously possible, yet without explaining sin which breaks out only in the qualitative leap.’ Anxiety is therefore deeply related to sin. I did not find Kierkegaard’s extensive treatment of sin in the book that thought-provoking to be honest, but the one thing that does come across clearly is that it is an important concept to him. In fact, the subtitle of the book is A Simple Psychologically Oriented Deliberation in View of the Dogmatic Problem of Hereditrary Sin. As a theist and postmodernist, I am not sure where I exactly stand on the concept of sin. However, I do believe that one should not be blamed for the actions of another. Sin, if it exists, should not be used as a tool to burden mankind with guilt.
Time is another topic Kierkegaard deals with in The Concept of Anxiety. He distinguishes between the present, which he calls the eternal and ‘the infinite succession’ of the life in time (outside of the eternal). There are some thoughts I have about Kierkegaard’s attitude to time, mainly about how he places importance on the present. It would seem he follows the tradition of the metaphysics of presence, which, as the name suggests, sees presence as more important than absence (including the future and past). In fact, he states ‘the instant is that ambiguity in which time and eternity touch each other.’ The present intersects with eternity, the former ‘touches’ the latter. Therefore, yet another synthesis is posited by Kierkegaard. I cannot help but find his synthesising approach agreeable. It is interesting to see a nineteenth-century thinker having a distaste for binaries. However, he is still not Heidegger or Derrida, due to how he believes presence is more important than absence, even if his view is more nuanced than some other thinkers.
This post has discussed some of the points I found interesting in Kierkegaard’s The Concept of Anxiety. I have not covered everything comprehensively, but instead I have discussed some of the sections or themes of the book and the thoughts they provoked. Overall, it was an interesting read, although challenging at points. Would I read more Kierkegaard? Yes, probably, his synthesising is something I like a lot. However, I would have liked it more if he focused in on anxiety throughout. His thoughts on sin, which are prominent throughout, are not as interesting as his other ideas. Nevertheless, there were few moments, as outlined above, that sparked my mind and so therefore it was worth reading.
This post shall review the 2017 collection of essays titled ‘History, Big History & Metahistory’.
In a previous post, I bemoaned the fact that I had not found any scholarship that used complexity theory and history together. Well now, I have discovered a collection of essays published by the Sante Fe Institute that aims to engage with the historical discipline. The Sante Fe Institute is known as one of the world-leading centres for the study of complex systems. It also takes a transdisciplinary approach to its studies. I must admit before starting this review, that the prospect of finding a way to unite the humanities and sciences is something that I find a very attractive idea, so I approached this book eagerly. Nevertheless, as will become clear, there are several themes throughout the collection that come into conflict with my sense of historicism and the role of the contingent in the past.
The introduction to ‘History, Big History & Metahistory’, which is by David Krakauer, Lewis Gaddis and Kenneth Pomeranz, outlines the aims of the book. Firstly, it argues that history involves everything up to the present, which means going beyond written records and using techniques from other disciplines. For example, someone studying the past environment, should know about climatology, palaeontology and geology. The study of astronomy might also be useful for someone who is looking at the history of the cosmos. We need different disciplines if we are to talk about ‘big history’, history which goes beyond the narrow scope of written documents. The authors of the introduction write ‘how much do we really know, therefore, about where we come from, who we are- and where we may be going- if the disciplines we’ve divided ourselves into have lost the languages that would allow them to speak to anyone apart from themselves?’ The introduction also argues there is a need to be a generalist and a specialist at the same, only then can we gain full appreciation of the past. Finally, it also states that all the authors in the collection of essays share the view that history is too important to be analysed exclusively through the methods of qualitative text analysis.
The first essay in the collection, David Christian’s ‘A Single Historical Continuum’, argues that new dating techniques allow us to think of history in a single timeline extending beyond the earliest written records. One example of such a dating technique includes the half-life of radioactive materials. This and other techniques formed part of the ‘chronometric revolution’ that, according to Christian, has removed some of the barriers between the historical and scientific disciplines. The chapter also deals with a supposed pattern throughout this unified historical continuum- the rise of complexity. across time This started with the formation of the universe, the formation of galaxies and stars and ultimately in human complexity. Human society represents a new level of complexity due to its exploitation of biospheric resources.
The second chapter in the volume looks at the relationship between palaeontology and history. One area of overlap includes the investigation of early human history. It also offers a more nuanced view of the relationship between structure and contingency, by suggesting that the history of life is ‘a more complicated melange of the two’. Events, according to the Douglas Erwin, may disrupt larger structures throughout history. While this chapter does offer a more complex view than some of the others in the book, my initial reaction was to still find the application of laws to the past troubling. Reading this collection of essays, as will become clear, forced me to consider other views of the past.
John Lewis Gaddis’ chapter, titled ‘War, Peace & Everthing: Thoughts on Tolstoy’ suggests that Clausewitz and Tolstoy thought that complexity governed history, as early as the nineteenth century. Leo Tolstoy, for example, had a sense of moving between scales that is inherent in complexity. As Gaddis puts it ‘history itself is happening simultaneously across an infinite number of levels’ in Tolstoy. Murray Gell-Man, in his contribution, argues that there are mathematical regularities in human history. It mentions formulae that have been used to consider a range of issues, such as The Great Plague of London in 1665. Certain equations can be applied to find patterns throughout history, according to Gell-Man.
Geoffrey Galt Harpham offers a counterweight to the attempts throughout the collection to create a common transdisciplinary language in his chapter. He uses the example of philology which historically aimed to unite disciplines. He argues that this unification resulted in racist and anti-semitic tendencies. He concludes with one of his most powerful statements ; ‘the gaps between disciplines are not mere empty spaces to be crossed by exceptionally brainy and imaginative people, but are the very spaces of freedom.’ Nevertheless, I do not necessarily agree with Harpham’s criticisms of transdisciplinarity. For example, I cannot imagine complexity leading to racial prejudice due to its appreciation for the sensitive. Likewise, uniting people and disciplines together is not likely to cause further division.
David C. Krakauer, in his essay, uses concepts from non-linear dynamics, stastistical physics and evolutionary biology. He argues that these are useful for historians. He shows how history often uses analogs of concepts and tools expressed quantitatively in the natural sciences. The chapter ‘Homogeneity, Heterogeneity, Pigs & Pandas in Human History’ looks at two issues. Firstly, it looks at the processes of diversification and homogenisation with regards to human culture. Over time, it argues there have certain ‘swings of the pendulum’ in the direction of one or the other. For example, homogenisation as a process is happening in the modern world due to globalisation in an increasingly interconnected world. Mcneill, the author, also looks at how animals can act as analogies for the adaptability of human societies. For example, ‘pig’ societies are versatile like the species they are named after. Whereas, ‘panda’ societies are adapted to one set of conditions making them vulnerable to a change in conditions. The use of analogies my Mcneill is an interesting way of bridging the gap between disciplines. One wonders that if we look for comparisons like these, it might help us communicate more clearly across barriers. Analogical thinking could be a key part of the transdicisiplinary toolkit, especially with the importance our disciplinary languages play in communication.
Kenneth Pomeranz looks at how we name historical phenomena influences our analysis of them. He argues that many of the classification schemes used by historians are not very useful for engaging with scientists. It suggests we should look at clusters of variables, rather than focusing on dramatic events. Rather than simply analysing long-term trends, we should create taxonomies of these variables. Fred Spier argues that big history should be seen as the rise and demise of complexity throughout the universe. Energy flows and matter, he suggests, are pivotal for understanding how complexity grows or shrinks. Complexity itself can only exist within certain favourable boundaries, which Spiers calls ‘Goldilocks Circumstances.’ While I still feel hesitation regarding historical laws, I think the rise and demise of complexity, as almost mentioned by Christian, is a better approach than most. If we view history as the story of complexity, we can still retain an eye for the particular due to the presence of ‘Goldilocks Circumstances’ for most phenomena.
Peter Turchin again argues for looking at regularities throughout history. He argues that mathematic models are necessary precisely due to the complexity of history. He identifies two trends in the past. Firstly, the rise of ‘megaempires’ and their proximity to the steppe. Secondly, the rate of growth of religions once they gain an amount of momentum. Again, like with Gell-Man, I find the use of mathematical models challenging to my views about the past. My feeling is if a formula is sophisticated enough and allows room for the complexity of the past and the presence of the contingent, then it might be acceptable to use it to a degree.
Vermeij uses the idea of competition for locally scarce resources, arguing for a number of patterns that might be found in any system that faces such a scenario. He leaves more room for the contingent in his analysis by writing ‘contingency- randomness and the enduring effects of particular initial conditions and pathways of change- reigns at the level of the precise times, places, order of events and participants involved in historical sequences.’ This is a welcome addition and a combination of law and contingency is more appealing to me than just the former. Finally, Geoffrey West again looks for quantitative approaches to history through coarse-grained variables. He argues that we need to look at the collective level in order to identify patterns rather than the individual. This is an important point; switching between levels and the different techniques suited to them, may be pivotal for transcending disciplines without losing sight of either the particular or whole.
To summarise, I found ‘History, Big History & Metahistory’ a challenging read. While I still show a degree of hesitance regarding the application of laws and formulae to the past, I believe some are better suited to history than others. The authors who invoked the rise and/or the demise of complexity as a theme throughout history were more persuasive to my mind. Furthermore, those who allowed for the particular to have an influence certainly offered a more nuanced view than the authors who did not. Finally, I want highlight that regardless of any shortcomings, I believe the book has a noble aim- to transcend traditional disciplinary boundaries. The relationship between history and science is an gap that needs closing more and I think complexity studies, like the book suggests, it is the right path to go down.
This post shall review Albert-lazlo Barabasi’s 2002 book with the title ‘Linked:How Everything is Connected to Everything and What It Means for Business, Science and Everyday Life‘.
It has been a while since I have read or wrote anything about networks. So when I found a book that took an interdisciplinary approach and aimed to explain the world through networks, I was immediately drawn in. The main thesis behind Barabasi’s book is that networks play a decisive role throughout nature and society. It argues ‘reductionism was the driving force behind much of the twentieth century’s scientific revolution.’ Previously, science aimed to reduce everything down into its individual components, rather than explaining the whole. However, when one tries to do this, you hit a wall- the existence of complex systems, with parts that can be understood and reassembled in various ways. Furthermore, as everything is related to everything else, it is folly to try and understand constituents in isolation. Therefore, to summarise, ‘Linked’ aims to explain reality through a relational framework, while using networks as a concept to help us grasp an understanding of the world. Whether the book successfully achieves these aims is a question I shall return to later.
The book begins by explaining how two figures mastered networks. Mafiaboy, who successfully used the network of the internet to launch hacking attacks, and St Paul who mastered the network of the early Christian community to spread the faith. This idea of needing to think in networks and mastering them is recurring throughout the book. For example, towards the end of ‘Linked’, it argues that we need to think of human biology as a network in order to understand cells and cure diseases. As Barabasi, puts it ‘if we want to understand life- and ultimately cure disease- we must think networks.’ In cells, the nodes of the network are genes and the proteins encoded by the gigantic DNA molecules. Whereas, the links or edges are the various biochemical interactions between these components. Barabasi argues by understanding cells as a network, we might be able to develop medicines that target only the malfunctioning cells, alongside diagnosing illnesses like depression or cancer before symptoms occur. Therefore, mastering networks and thinking in networks may be beneficial to society at large.
Mastering networks may also be beneficial to corporations. Currently, business experts generally think in terms of a ‘tree’ and abstract concepts such as the ‘market.’ But in reality, corporate activity can be seen as a network. As Barabasi suggests ‘the market is nothing but a directed network. Companies, firms, corporations, financial institutions, governments and all potential economic players are the nodes.’ Thinking of the market as a network may, according to the author, allow us to avoid future economic crises. This would be done through the monitoring of the path of damage and strengthening nodes that can stop the spread of macroeconomic ‘fires’. Therefore, whether it is St Paul, human biology or the economy, thinking in terms of networks can have benefits for those who need their advantages.
If we can identify networks in different settings, are there any general patterns between them? Well, firstly networks, are not random as thought in the past, but have a power law degree distribution, in which most nodes have only a few links, but are held together by a few hubs. This pattern can be found throughout networks in nature and society. The internet, for example, is dominated by a few highly connected nodes or hubs. Barabasi frequently uses the example of the internet throughout ‘Linked’ because of his own research on it. His use of it is therefore highly knowledgeable of it. Nevertheless, there are also other patterns in networks found throughout reality. Another common feature of networks is growth- they tend to acquire more nodes as time goes on. Furthermore, nodes always compete for connections because links represent survival in an interconnected worlds. Another feature of networks is the presence of connectors ‘with an anomalously large number of links’. They ‘are present in very diverse complex system, ranging from the economy to the cell.’ These connectors play a pivotal role and can represent the idea of the spread of things like viruses or ideas.
Networks that follow the patterns mentioned above have a certain degree of robustness against failure, while also containing an ‘Achilles heel’. As Barabasi puts it ‘most system displaying a high degree of tolerance against failures share a common feature: Their functionality is guaranteed by a highly interconnected complex networks.’ For example, a cell’s robustness is hidden it in its intricate regulatory and metabolic network. Whereas, as ecoystem’s survival is encoded by a carefully crafted web of species interactions. Highly connected networks are therefore less vulnerable to attacks or threats than those that are sparsely connected. On the other hand, a reliance on hubs also gives networks a weakness. If the hubs are attacked, large chunks of the network can become disconnected from the main cluster, therefore weakening the network.
While the features above can be found throughout nature and society, Barabasi uses the internet to describe another aspect that can be found in networks. According to him, the internet’s topology coexists with numerous small-scale structures that he calls ‘continents’. ‘These are websites brought together by a join idea, hobby, or habitat, forming communities of shared interests. In my mind, these continents sound a lot like clusters. Therefore, it appears, clustering, especially around hubs, can be found throughout networks. A final point about the internet I want to raise is its self-organisation. The web emerges from the individual actions of millions of users and therefore its architecture is much richer than the sum of its parts. The web, as a consequence, has one of the defining features of complex systems.
I have described the importance Barabasi attaches to mastering networks, as well as the common patterns he has found throughout their occurrence in nature and reality. However, I will now discuss what I think about his main thesis- that nature and society can be understood throughout a collection of networks forming a relational view of reality. Firstly, Barabasi provides a substantial amount of evidence to suggest that networks with common patterns can be found throughout reality. However, it is worth noting, he uses the internet heavily throughout the book due to his own research on it. It would have been interesting to see other examples used throughout the book, such as those on biology and the economy used throughout the latter parts of ‘Linked.’ Nevertheless, based on the examples he uses, it is fair to say there are many common features of networks found througout the world.
However, while Barabasi might identify these common patterns, he does not explain how different networks in reality are connected to each other. Therefore, he does not necessarily fully develop his ideas regarding understanding reality as composed of relations rather than particulars. It would have been beneficial for him to describe how several networks affect each other to try and achieve his relational framework more successfully.
Furthermore, Barabasi could have attempted to explain more how networks affect our view of academic disciplines. His book uses examples from several disciplines, but he does not discuss in detail the implications of network theory for interdisciplinarity in any depth. If networks with similar patterns and features can be found throughout the world, then the gap between academic disciplines might be closed to a certain extent. At the same time, as a historian, I am acutely aware there are some barriers to merging the disciplines. For example, as I have raised elsewhere, history deals with phenomena from the past that cannot be verified through repeated observation unlike the scientific and social scientific disciplines. Nevertheless, I still feel a main issue with ‘Linked’ is that the potentialities or dangers of unification are not sufficiently discussed throughout the book.
To conclude, I enjoyed reading Barabasi’s ‘Linked’. I think it is a good starting point for conducting future research, even if it leaves some questions unanswered. My feeling is that if I conduct network analysis again, I would like to build on some of the ideas discussed in this book. I am interested in how disciplines relate to each other and whether we should understand reality as composed of relations or particulars. Furthermore, I believe the book’s idea that we need to understand networks because reality is composed of them is a persuasive idea as well, even if it could be developed further. Therefore, if I were to summarise my opinion of Barabasi’s work, I would say that is a good starting point for future research, even if it does not comprehensively deal with everything it could.
This post includes my third podcast and the accompanying script and bibliography.
Script:
Introduction
Today, the term Vandal denotes someone who damages or destroys property. This usage of the word, however, only emerged in 1794, when Henri-Baptiste Gregoire, Bishop of Blois, used it in a dispute with French revolutionaries. He used the word ‘Vandal’ to denounce their violence against the churches and their treasures of art. However, Gregoire did not invent this term from nowhere, he got it from a ‘barbarian’ group who settled in North Africa, mainly during the fifth century.
Within this context, it therefore may come as no surprise, that the barbarian ‘Vandals’ have historically had a poor reputation. Simon MacDowall writes ‘of all the conquerors of the Roman Empire the Vandals surely have had the worst press’. Furthermore, if we believe contemporary sources, the arrival of the Vandals in Africa shocked Roman society. They describe killings, enslavement, rape, the flight of refugees, pillage, the torching of buildings, and the extortion of wealth through torture. Before they moved to Africa, they also sacked Rome in 455 and plundered it for two weeks. This all paints a very bad picture of this ‘barbarian’ group.
Hello there, this is The Early Medieval Podcast. Today’s episode aims to assess whether the Vandal’s poor reputation is deserved. It will argue that we need to abandon the practice of labelling the barbarians as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ and ‘disruptive’ or ‘continuous’ with regards to the Roman Empire. Instead, we should view them on their own terms and realise the barbarian kingdoms were part of a unique time period with its own trends, events and challenges.
Who were the Vandals?
However, before we start, I will introduce the Vandals as a people and explain there move to Northern Africa. The Vandals were a people who emerged from Central Europe in the early fifth century. Records of their history before then are scarce. Traditional theories would suggest that they originally came from Scandinavia before they moved into ‘Germania’. However, this may not be the case. Walter Pohl suggests that ethnic names such as ‘Vandal’ may have been taken from a stock of familiar and prestigious names, therefore the term ‘Vandal’ may have been applied to several groups of people without any obvious connections between them.
Nevertheless, the ‘Vandals’ that concern us crossed the Rhine into Gaul (France and Belgium) before heading across the Pyrenees into the Iberian peninsular. However, in 429 they moved again into North Africa. According to Victor of Vita in his History of the Vandal Persecution, a total of 80,000 Vandals under their King Geiseric made the move.
An explanation of the Roman political context might explain why they did this. After the Emperor Honorius’s death in 423, the infant Valentinian III succeeded to the throne in Ravenna, with his mother Galla Placidia the power behind him. She was propped up the Eastern Emperor, as well as three warlords: Aetius, Felix and Bonifatius. The three warlords vied for control of the Empire. According to Jordanes and Procopius, Bonifatius, who was Count of Africa, made an alliance with the Vandal kings Gunderic and Geiseric to divide up Africa in return for support. While Clover and Schwarz dispute this alliance, it could possibly explain why the Vandals decided to move to Africa.
The Vandal settlement of Africa, according to Schwarz, was composed of three phases. The first lasted from 429 to 435 and consisted of war and plunder followed by a treaty that accommodated soldiers in a given territory. The second phase involved the capture of Carthage and another period of war followed by another treaty to grant the Vandals more land. Finally, phase three involved the expansion of Vandal territory following the death of Valentinian III. These processes of conquest, treaty and expansion formed the Vandal Kingdom that would dominate North Africa until its conquest by the Eastern Roman Emperor Justinian in 533-534. It is this Vandal kingdom in Africa that shall be the focus of this episode. Now let’s begin our analysis of the Vandal kingdom.
Persecution of Nicene Christians
By far one of the worst atrocities attributed to the Vandals in Africa is the persecution of Nicene Christians. Nicene Christians followed the creed established at Nicaea in 325. Whereas, the Vandals were Homoean Christians, note not Arian as commonly thought, and believed the Son was ‘like’ the Father and not the ‘same’ as him.
Our main source for understanding the persecution of Nicene Christians is Victor of Vita’s History of the Vandal Persecution. This account describes some of the actions carried out by the Vandals against them. For example, when discussing the Vandals’ violence, Victor writes ‘they gave vent to their wicked ferocity great strength against the churches and basilicas of the saints, cemeteries and monasteries, so that they burned houses of prayer with fires greater than those they used against all the cities and towns.’ Victor also comments on the fact that ‘there were also a great many martyrdoms and a huge and numerous throng of confessors.’ The Vandals, according to Victor, also initially stopped the election of bishops to Zeugitania. This all makes Vandal rule look intolerant and violent.
However, gradually a more complex picture of the Vandal persecution emerges from the sources. Victor of Vita writes that Huneric, the successor of Geiseric, ‘began to act in quite a mild and moderate fashion’ and ‘this was particularly so with respect our [Nicene] religion’. We should certainly not presume all the Vandal kings took a uniform approach to their religious policy. Furthermore, Huneric allowed the election of a Catholic bishop named Eugenius, suggesting he was not as harsh as his predecessor. Nevertheless, later in his reign, Huneric became more harsh, so much that Victor still termed him a ‘wicked’ man. This change alongside the other evidence, warns us against concluding that the Vandals persecuted Nicene Christians continuously and at the same level for the entire duration of their kingdom in Africa. A further caveat is also added by Heather’s suggestion that the provinces of Numidia and Byzacena were almost unaffected by the persecutions, while Africa Proconsularis suffered the most. While it would be wrong to say the Vandal persecutions were not harsh and immoral, the evidence certainly points to a more complex reality than what first appears.
We should also not presume that the Nicene Christians did not strike back against the Vandals. There are a range of literary genres, as documented by Whelan, that show Nicene Christians were not just passive receivers, but that they had agency and responded to attacks against them. Polemics, like that of Victor of Vita, openly critcised the Vandals. Whereas, other authors wrote imaginary theological arguments and debates to engage with their Homoean enemies. In these treatises, Nicene Christians even used the historic label of ‘Arian’ to denounce their opponents. An example of these fictional debates include Pseudo-Augustine’s Conference of Augustine with Pascentius, which purports to include a debate between the famous Bishop of Hippo and a member of the late Roman elite. Whereas, another debate text involves Cerealis, Nicene bishop of Castellum arguing against Maximius ‘the bishop of the Ariomaniacs’ before the Vandal king in Carthage. Finally, in the mid fifth century, an African Nicene exile in Naples wrote a text to refute the propositions of the Homoean deacon named Varimadus.These texts only form part of a wider textual tradition of using debates to engage with theological enemies.
The Vandals’ persecutions against Nicene Christians do not make them look favourable. Nevertheless, we must also remember that they were not the only ‘barbarian’ people to carry out religious acts of violence. Theoderic the Great, ruler of the Ostrogoths, was anti-Nicene towards the end of his reign, even if he was tolerant at first. Whereas, Gregory of Tours’ writings reveal him to bigoted against anyone who strayed from the ‘true faith’. When these points are taken into account, alongside the more complex presentation of the persecutions shown above, it does not seem the Vandals deserve completely their poor reputation, even if their actions should still face criticism.
Urban Areas
The Vandals have also been associated with the destruction and decline of buildings and urban areas. Victor of Vita writes ‘in some buildings, namely great houses and homes, where fire had been less service to them, they smashed the roofs in pieces and levelled the beautiful walls to the ground.’ Also, according to Victor, there were ‘many cities with few or no inhabitants.’ Carthage itself lost the odeon, the theatre, the temple of Memoria and the Via Caelestis.
Conant also describes some of the damage caused by the arrival of the Vandals. The forum no longer formed part of the civic centre of African cities. Meanwhile, theatres were abandoned and some bath complexes were turned into housing for the poor or into industrial sites. Unoccupied parts of the city were given over to burial grounds. Nevertheless, while Vandal rule of Africa seems to have resulted in change from the Roman past, it is important to not see this as decline. Instead, we should view the period as having its own character and see Vandal cities as transforming like other urban centres in this era. Conant is aware of this and points to the fact that many new churches were being built in Africa, fitting in with trends across the Late Antique world. Change also occurred in aristocratic houses, many of which were either abandoned or divided up into lots. However, many also survived and were refurbished, especially in Carthage and the African hinterlands. Furthermore, many circuses, amphitheatres and bath complexes did not deteriorate and continued to exist, so it would be wrong to view Vandal rule of Africa as completely destructive.Therefore, the Vandals do not deserve a completely bad press when it comes to their impact on the cities and in urban areas. In fact, their rule should be viewed on its own terms and be seen as a unique point in the history of North Africa.
Coinage
Another reason to view the Vandals in a more neutral light comes from the coinage they minted. The Münzkabinett of the Kunsthistorische Museum in Vienna holds a collection of the coins from the Vandal period (429-534). It includes thirteen silver coins, seventy-five bronze and copper coins and ten incised Roman imperial large and middling coins. This collection is just one example of coins found from the Vandal period. Overall, Vandal coins come in several forms, those with a King’s name and those with no mention of the lord of the mint. The issue of silver coins with a name begins under Gunthamund and ends with the last King of the Vandals Gelimer. The minting of coins like these acted as powerful propaganda pieces for the Vandals, while also demonstrating the fact that they had the power to create them.
The Vandals also minted coins that imitated those of the Roman Emperor Honorius. This should not be seen as a sign of weakness. Morrison and James H.Schwartz suggest three reasons why the Vandals might have copied Roman coins. Firstly, because Honorius was the last emperor to strike silver coins of any value. Secondly, as he was regarded as the head of Valentinian’s family or finally because he was so long dead that minting them would not be seen as a violation of the Western or Eastern Empire’s monopoly. Therefore, the minting of imitative coins was likely a strategic move by the Vandal kings.
The Vandals also did not mint gold coins, out of the successor states only the Ostrogothic Kingdom managed to create a complete currency system with all three (gold, silver and copper) metal variations. There would have been gold circulating in Vandal Africa, likely from trade, and also due to the fact that some of their gold loot from Rome was taken across the straits of Gibraltar into Africa. Nevertheless, not minting gold coins may have been a deliberate move by the Vandals, as to not interfere with the monopoly held by the Roman Empires.
The fact that the Vandals minted coinage with their kings’ names shows that they were willing to innovate. Yet, at the same time they were still able to use the historic power of Honorious to their advantage. We should therefore view the Vandals as cleverly deploying coinage for their own aims and not as mere receptors of a continuing old tradition or as victims of a uniform decline.
Poetry and Literary Culture
Another aspect of Vandal rule which should not be overlooked is the thriving literary culture of Africa during the period. Gregory Hays has used the term ‘Vandal renaissance’ to describe a group of authors who shared similarities during the earlier part of the kingdom’s existence. One member was Fulgentius, whose work included commentaries on Greek mythology and on the Aeneid. He also wrote a short collection of glosses with illustrative quotations and a world-history. Dracontius, Martianus Capella and the authors of the Latin Anthology formed the other members of the group. They all shared a common educational background, an investment in a particular social context and an ability to modulate between sacred and secular themes. Their works also had similar aesthetic values.This literary circle shows that culture was thriving under Vandalic rule and that they do not necessarily deserve their reputation of being oppressive rulers.
Another circle involved the poet Luxorious, who compiled a series of epigrams of the suggestion of his friend Faustus. Coronatus, who dedicated his work on the liberal arts to Luxorious, was also another member.There were therefore multiple literary circles in Africa during Vandal rule. Furthermore, the poet Florentius praised Carthage by calling a place of great education and great teachers. The classical school also surivided in Africa throughout the Vandal period, with grammarians teaching students language and morality. Less prestigious schools of letters continued to serve rural communities. Some male smallholders on the Fundus Tuletianos were able to draw up legal documents or sign autographs.
While Africa was a place of thriving culture under Vandal rule there are some necessary nuances to add to our discussion. Dracontius, the poet, was imprisoned at one point by King Gunthamund- so not all rulers were tolerant towards writers. Furthermore, some literary genres seem to no have been produced much in Vandal Africa. Theology, mainly due to the Vandal’s Homoean faith, seems to have been avoided by most. Whereas, for those based in Carthage, epistolary communication was not necessary and so not many letters were written. Finally, Vandal Africa did not produce a Gregory of Tours or Cassiodorus, authors who both produced histories for their respective peoples. Therefore, we must again view Vandal rule on its terms, while culture flourished, some works were or were not produced due to particular contexts within the kingdom.
Conclusion
Based on the assessment in this article, it seems that the Vandals do not deserve their poor reputation, even so we must still not label them as ‘good’. When studying the past, terms like these can be oversimplistic. In particular, Late Antiquity and the ‘barbarian’ successor states should be viewed as unique and complex and we must give them the justice they deserve.
That finishes today’s episode, I hope you have enjoyed it. If you have any questions please feel free to comment. Goodbye and see you soon.
Bibliography:
Berndt, G.M. and Steinacher, R. “Minting in Vandal North Africa: coins of the Vandal period in the Coin Cabinet of Vienna’s Kunsthistorisches Museum.” Early Medieval Europe 16 (2008): 252-298.
Conant, Jonathan. Staying Roman : Conquest and Identity in Africa and the Mediterranean, 439–700. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012.
Heather, Peter. “CHRISTIANITY AND THE VANDALS IN THE REIGN OF GEISERIC” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 50 (2007): 137-146.
MacDowall, Simon. The Vandals. Havertown: Pen & Sword Books, 2016.
Merrills, Andrew, ed. Vandals, Romans and Berbers : New Perspectives on Late Antique North Africa. Florence: Taylor & Francis Group, 2004.
Morrisson, Cécile, and James H. Schwartz. “VANDAL SILVER COINAGE IN THE NAME OF HONORIUS.” Museum Notes 27 (1982): 149-79.
Rosenblum, Morris. Luxorius: a Latin poet among the Vandals : together with a text of the poems and an English translation. New York : Columbia University Press, 1961.
Victory of Vita, History of the Vandal Persecution translated by John Moorhead in Victor of Vita: History of the Vandal Persecution. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1992.
Whelan, Robin. Being Christian in Vandal Africa: The Politics of Orthodoxy in the Post-Imperial West. Oakland, California: University of California Press, 2018.
This post contains my second podcast, as well as the accompanying script and bibliography.
Script:
Introduction
Imagine a siege of a small town with multiple battering rams trying to break down the walls und er constant fire from missiles and facing the threat of a sally. Imagine defenders hopelessly besieged using everything thing they can to hold their position, pouring vats filled with burning pitch and grease down on their opponents and then using stone-throwing machines to rain death upon them. This was the Siege of Convenae, the climax of one the most dramatic and chaotic events in sixth-century Gaul. It was called The Gundovald Affair and it involved an eponymous pretender trying to stake his personal claim to Merovingian Gaul.
Hello there, I’m Liam and this is the Early Medieval Podcast. Today’s episode will focus on the series of events that I’ve just made reference to above-The Gundovald Affair. Our source for describing it will be Gregory of Tours’ Ten Books of Histories, which is often erroneously called The History of the Franks. Gregory, born in 539, was Bishop of Tours and is our main source for the tumultuous times that dominated Merovingian Gaul during the sixth century. While Gregory describes constant internal strife throughout this period, our focus shall be on the rise and fall of the pretender Gundovald. A crucial series of events that can give us a peculiar amount of insight into how Gaul operated at this time.
Merovingian Gaul during Gundovald’s revolt was divided into three kingdoms: Austrasia, Neustria and Burgundy. Austrasia was to the north east of Gaul, whereas Neustria was to the West. Burgundy, meanwhile, approximately took up the south east. Previously another kingdom had existed under Charibert centred around Paris, but after his death his three brothers divided up his kingdom between them.
Who ruled each kingdom during the revolt? Well these had been chaotic times for Merovingian Gaul, so there was only one male adult ruler- Neustria and Austrasia were both ruled by children. Chlothar II, son of the deceased Chilperic, ruled Neustria, whereas Childebert II, song of the assassinated Sigibert, ruled Austrasia. Guntram, the sole adult, but with no surviving sons of his own, ruled Burgundy, There was therefore a dangerous lack of royal Merovingian stock, especially adults, in Gaul when Gundovald arrived.
Life of Gundovald Before The Revolt
Having provided some context for the revolt, I will now proceed to discuss Gregory’s treatment of Gundovald in the Histories. I shall firstly look at the early life of Gundovald. Gregory wrties ‘Gundovald was born in Gaul and educated with great care. He wore his hair long and down his back, as is the custom of the Frankish kings,’ At some point, his mother presented him to Childebert I, (note- not Childebert II who was King of Austrasia when Gundovald revolted) claiming that his father Chlothar I hated him. Chlothar I, who later would become sole ruler of Gaul, was the father of Guntram, Chilperic, Sigibert and Charibert. Childebert I had no sons of his own so he took Gundovald and kept him at his side. When Chlothar I heard this he demanded that Gundovald be presented to him and claimed ‘This is no son of mine’. Therefore, Chlothar I declared that Gundovald was not his son and that he did not have a right to any land in Merovingian Gaul. After Chlothar I’s death, Gundovald was taken up by Charibert, but again was summoned by Sigibert who cut off his hair and sent him to Cologne.
Despite his mistreatment by his father Chlothar I and Sigibert there is good reason to believe that Gundovald was a legitimate royal son. Most of the scholarship agrees on this point. For example, Goffart points towards his royal upbringing and education. Meanwhile, Bachrach highlights his reception by Childbert and also by Charibert. He writes ‘the significance of Charibert’s reception of Gundovald cannot be too strongly emphasised. By this act Charibert clearly demonstrated that he accepted as a fact the claim that Gundovald was of royal blood, that he was King Chlothar’s son’ The same can also be said about Chlothar’s brother, Childbert’s, reception of him and the fact that he was aloud to grow his hair long in royal style.
There is also good reason to think that Gregory of Tours was sympathetic to the pretender and that he also thought he was a son of Chlothar I. For a start, he never outright denounces his claim to Merovingian land, despite a certain him nearly falling of his shield when announced as a King in Book VII, Chapter 10. Furthermore, Gundovald, during the Siege of Convenae, announces that Radegund of Poitiers and Ingitrude of Tours can attest to his legitimacy and story. As Ian Wood highlights, these women were both members of the Merovingian family. The first Gregory regarded as a saint; the second he regarded highly at the time of composing Book VII of the Histories (where most of the account of the revolt is found), even if he changed his mind later. While Gregory never outrightly states his support for Gundovald, Wood points out that he likely wouldn’t due to Guntram’s treatment of his episcopal appointments. Gregory is also very careful, according to Wood, about his presentation of Gundovald and his followers. Without exception, Gundovald’s claim to be the son of Chlothar I is presented in direct or indirect speech, as are all the denials of his royal descent. Wood argues Gregory deliberately using vagueness and other literary techniques to subvert his narrative and to show his true beliefs. To summarise then, it seems that Gundovald was likely a legitimate Merovingian, despite his rejection by Chlothar I.
We now return to Gregory’s narrative of Gundovald’s life. Stuck in Cologne, Gundovald soon escaped and went to Italy to see the East Roman general Narses. Bachrach, suggests he was received here, because Narses wanted to establish him as governor of the ‘Frankish’ provinces in Italy; Liguria, Venetia and the Cottian Alps. Installed there, Gundovald could help rally the local inhabitants, who had been settled there since 539, against a Lombard invasion. Alternatively, he may have also been intended to exert pressure on Guntram of Burgundy and Sigibert of Austrasia, so that they would aid against the Lombards in Italy. The fear of an Imperial backed pretender may have motivated them to provide assistance to the Eastern Roman Empire. The Empire had a long history of using pretenders and becoming involved in dynastic disputes. They had been the pretexts for invasions of Italy, Spain and Africa, so the Frankish kings would have had a genuine concern about how Gundovald could be used. Regardless, of what Narses’ plans were, they could not be executed due to his fall from grace and his replacement of governor of Italy by Longinus. What happened to Gundovald as a result of these events.? Well, he married and had children during his stay in Italy. He also grew his hair long again in the Frankish royal style. Finally, he moved to Constantinople where he would stay until his invitation back into Italy.
The Return and Revolt of Gundovald
What was the context of his return to Gaul? During the Siege of Convenae, Gundovald himself claimed that he had been invited back by an Austrasian magnate called Guntram Boso. Gundovald, as recorded by Gregory of Tours, said ‘a few years ago Guntram Boso came to Constantinople. I questioned him closely about the fate of my brothers and I was told that our line had almost died.’ Gundovald then goes on to claim that Boso said ‘Come’ and ‘You are invited by all the leaders of King Childebert’s realm, for not one has dared to speak against you’. Therefore, if this account is to believed, Guntram was invited on behest of a faction of Austrasian magnates. However, despite Gundovald’s claims, it unclear if he was invited back by Guntram Boso. Later, after Gundovald’s return to Gaul, Guntram of Burgundy accused Boso of inviting the pretender. However, Boso denied it and accused Mummolus, a leader of Guntram’s for inviting him back. He then went on to support Guntram’s actions against Gundovald. Nevertheless, It is possible that Boso was simply covering his back, regardless who invited Gundovald and the resultant precise aims of his revolt shall remain a mystery to a degree.
Upon his return to Gaul, Gundovald landed in Marseilles where he was received by Bishop Theodore and subsequently, he set off to join Duke Mummolus at Avignon. Boso, now apparently against Gundovald, arrested Bishop Theodore and threw him into prison for introducing a foreigner to Gaul with the aim of subjecting a Frankish kingdom to Imperial control. Epiphanius, also a Bishop, was also accused of supporting Gundovald, as he was implicated through arriving at Marseilles at a similar time. They were taken before Guntram and eventually found innocent, although it came at a cost for Epiphanius who died from his suffering. Gundovald, by this point, had fled to an island in the Mediterranean to await what had happened.
Gundovald later returned to Gaul again and stayed with Mummolus in Avignon. Accompanied by the Duke, as well as another- Desiderius, Gundovald at some point set off to the district of Limoges. Where, at the tomb of Saint Martin, he was raised up as King on a shield. Gregory notes, as mentioned earlier, ‘as they carried him round for the third time, he stumbled and had great difficulty remaining upright even with the help of those standing round him’. Regardless, he then made a progress through neighbouring cities. At this point, it is worth covering who was supporting Gundovald as a Merovingian king. Ian Wood suggests his allies came from three main sources. Firstly, members of Childebert II’s court keeping their options open until he came of age. Secondly, followers of Guntram whose position had been compromised. Finally, military leaders in service of Chilperic, who had been too far away from his court to ensure their survival after his death. Gundovald, nevertheless had a large amount of support throughout Merovingian Gaul.
Gregory of Tours following on from these events notes portents that suggests Gundovald’s death was coming. Misshapen grapes were forming, whereas trees were blossoming twice. Rays of light were also shining in the sky and there was an earthquake in Angers. Furthermore, in the North a column of fire hung on high for two hours. Meanwhile, tensions were brewing throughout Gaul due to Gundovald’s procession. The magnate Guntram Boso was sent as envoy to Guntram’s court and the latter again accused by the former of aiding Gundovald. Boso declared his innocence yet again. Guntram then declared all should be united to drive out the adventurer’s whose father was sat at a weaver’s loom and catded wool. An envoy then jokes no one can have two fathers, unless one is speaking of spiritual matters. The envoys then burst out laughing and left. In anger, Guntram, with jokes made of him, ordered horse dung to be thrown over the envoys’ heads, alongside wood chips, straw, mouldy hay and mud from the town gutters. Gundovald’s main antagonist was now angry and was raising an army to engage in battle with him.
Gundovald . at this point, then planned to move to Poitiers, but was afraid because he heard an army was being raised against him. He also demanded an oath of allegiance to King Childebert from all the cities that had belonged to Sigibert (Childebert II’s father) and also asked for an oath of allegiance to himself from all the cities that had belonged to Guntram or to Chilperic. The fact that he demanded allegiance to Childebert II in Sigibert’s former territories, reinforces the idea that there was a strong contingent of Austriasian magnates behind Gundovald’s arrival in Gaul.
Gundovald moved to Angouleme, where he received the oath there and gave bribes to its chief citizens. He then went to Perigueux where he persecuted the Bishop for not having received him with due honour. Next, Gundovald marched on Tolouse, he sent messages to Magnulf who was Bishop in the city, to order him to receive him. However, they claimed ‘no foreigner must dare to violate the Frankish realm’ and prepared to resist Gundovald. However, on the eve of battle, the inhabitants saw the size of Gundovald’s army and so they opened the gates to him. Sometime later, when the Bishop Magnulf was sitting at table with Gundovald he said to him ‘You maintain that you are the son of King Chlothar, but we have no way of telling whether or not this is true. It seems incredible to me that you can carry out what you have planned’. Gundovald replied ‘I am indeed the son of King Chlothar and I am determined to take over my share of the kingdom without any more delay. I shall march on Paris with all speed and there I shall establish the seat of my government.’ Magnulf replied ‘If you succeed in carrying out what you say’ and then ‘it is indeed true that no prince of the Frankish royal line remains alive.’ Mummolus, who was supporting Gundovald, raised his hand boxes the bishop’s ears, saying it is not right ‘for so stupid and debased a man as you to give such an answer to a great king’. Desiderius then laid hands on Magnulf and then both Dukes prodded him with spears, punched him and kicked him. Then they b bound him with a rope and banished him from his city, before stealing all his possessions and those of the church too.
Gundovald continued his revolt and procession throughout Gaul after leaving Toulouse. He was pursued by an army including the inhabitants of Tours and Poiteivins. Gundovald then sent messages to his supporters. One of these, the Bishop of Cahors, was captured by Guntram and beaten and thrown into prison. Gundovald then moved on to Bordeaux, where he tried to take a finger bone of Saint Sergius to aid his cause from a Syrian named Eufronius. Mummolus broke the bone into pieces, causing the Syrian to weep. Meanwhile, the revolt installed a new Bishop of Dax, as Gundovald also nullified Chilperic’s decrees. It seems at this point, Gundovald was becoming a greater and greater threat to Guntram and the other Merovingian Kings, his revolt was covering more and more ground and becoming increasingly dangerous.
With his power growing, Gundovald sent two messengers to Guntram demanding ‘that portion of Chlothar I’s kingdom which is his due’. In response, Guntram stretched the messengers on the rack until they admitted that Gundovald had been asked to accept kingship by Childebert II’s leaders. This accusation was coming up yet again. Guntram invited Childebert II to discuss this matter and more. He told Childebert II not to trust his advisers for they were supporting Gundovald and also announced the Austrasian king as his heir. Meanwhile, Guntram’s army was marching towards Gundovald. The climax of the revolt was about to begin.
The Siege of Convenae
Gundovald , hearing of Guntram’s army approaching, crossed the Garonne and made for Convenae in the foothills of the Pyrenees. This is where he would make his stand. Convenae or Comminges was ‘built on the top of a high hill, with no other elevated spots near. ‘At the foot of a hill’ according to Gregory ‘a great spring gushes forwards, enclosed by a strongly fortified tower.’ Convenae itself was defended by a 674 metre perimeter wall built of stone and improved with ditches. Upon his arrival in Convenae, Gundovald said to the he towns folk ‘You know that I have been elected, with the backing of all those who dwell in Childebert’’s realm’ and ordered them to bring food and supplies inside the wall. He also tells them that they will hold out for reinforcements. However, then, he told the men of Convenae to sally forth and fight, as Guntram’s army was rapidly approaching. With the citizens of the town out, Gundovald shuts the doors on them and their Bishop and then takes all their possessions.
Once the siege begun, an effort was made to undermine the moral of the defenders. Men climbed to the top of the Matacan, the only highpoint within hailing distance, to insult Gundovald, making reference to his nickname ‘ballomer’, his painting skills and the cutting of his hair by the Frankish kings. Gundovald went to part of the ramparts that was close enough to answer back. Despite this, the siege engines brought by Guntram’s army were of no real value against Convenae. According to Bachrach, the inability to use light artillery and perhaps even heavier pieces was likely due to the topographical situation at Convenae. Leudgisel who was in charge of the siege decided to build new engines to aid the siege effort. These new weapons mainly consisted of battering rams to knock down holes in the walls. As these approached the walls, the attackers were bombarded by stones. Bachrach suggests the defenders also likely used stone-throwing machines. The battle was certainly chaotic. As mentioned earlier, flaming barrels of pitch and fat, as well as boxes filled with stones, were also thrown on Guntram’s attacking forces. At this stage, it appears the battle was going the way of the defenders. As Bachrach puts it ‘Gregory makes it clear that the defenders had much the better of the siege, at least during its initial stages’.
Regardless, Duke Bladast, who supported Gundovald, thought Convenae could not hold, likely due to the taunts, but also due to the fact that the besieging army was building an agger- a great ramp or mound- opposite the east wall. Bachrach suggests ‘the likelihood that the city would not be relieved, when considered in conjunction with the apparent dedication of the besiegers to their task, undoubtedly lowered the morale of Convenae’s defenders.’ Bladast, in response to the attacking threat, set fire to the church-house in Convenaea and when the soldiers came to put it out, he escaped unnoticed. However, as we shall see, Bladast was not the only one afraid of Guntram’s attacking forces.
The besiegers soon sent messengers to Duke Mummolus, a general of Gundovald, asking him to ‘Acknowledge your true overlord’. Upon hearing this the Duke said ‘I am well aware that we are at the end of our tether, and that we have no more power to resist. For me there is only one course open’. Together with Bishop Sagittarius, Chariulf and Waddo, Mummolus made his way to the cathedral. There they made an oath to break their alliance with Gundovald and hand him over to his enemies. Guntram’s messengers came back again and said their lives would be spared if they followed through with their treacherous plan. Mummolus, with Bishop Sagittarius and Waddo, went off to interview Gundovald. They asked him to seek an audience with Guntram, his supposed brother. They said that the Burgundian King did not want to lose the support Gundovald could provide. Gundovald knew he was being tricked and cried out ‘It was at your inivitation that I came to Gaul’ and that ‘through you I hoped to become King.’ Mummolus replied saying ‘there is nothing treacherous in what we have said’. However, Gundovald was wise and said ‘I am not such a fool that I cannot see through your words’. Nevertheless, betrayed and with no other options available, Gundovald went out of Convenae to be received by the besiegers.
Knowing he was betrayed, Gundovald cried ‘O God’ and ‘eternal judge, true Avenger of the innocent, from whom all justice must proceed. Whom no deceit can ever please, in whom can be no treachery, no craft, no maliciousness, it is to You that I, Gundovald, commend my cause. I ask You to avenge me with all speed on those who have betrayed me in my innocence into the hands of these, my enemies’. As he proceeded out of Convenae, Ullo, a man of Guntram, pushed Gundovald over and thrust a lance at him. However, Gundovald survived the blow. Boso (not Guntram Boso) also one of Guntram’s men, threw a stone at the pretender. Gundovald was hit in the head and fell down and died. The mob surrounded him and prodded him with their spears. They tied his feet together with a rope and dragged him through the whole army encampment. They pulled out his hair and beard. Then they left his body unburied on the spot where he had met his death.
The next night the leading men of Convenae took into possession and protection all the treasure they could. When day dawned the gates were flung open and the army allowed in. All the common people were put to the sword, meanwhile the whole city and all the churches and every single building was burnt to the ground. This concluded the Siege of Convenae and marked the end of The Gundovald Affair.
Aftermath and Conclusion
The traitors did not meet a happy fate. Mummolus and Sagittarius were slain by Guntram’s men, the attackers did not keep their promise. It was also rumoured Waddo and Chariulf were slain. Meanwhile, Gundovald’s legacy could be found through his sons, who later in the Histories, are mentioned as being in Spain. As these examples show, the ramifications of The Gundovald Affair did not finish with the pretender’s death. Nevertheless, the fall of Convenae to Guntram’s army marks the end of our story today. For it was here that the exciting series of events that characterised the revolt came to an end. The Gundovald Affair, without a doubt, was one of the dramatic and important episodes in the history of Merovingian Gaul.
That’s it, this concludes today’s episode on The Gundovald Affair. I hope you have enjoyed it! If you want to see the script for this episode, as well as the bibliography of sources I used, please visit my blog. Also, please feel free to comment if you have any questions. Last of all, I hope to see you soon and goodbye.
Bibliography:
Bachrach, Bernard S. The Anatomy of a Little War:: A Diplomatic and Military History of the Gundovald Affair: 568-586. Boulder: Westview Press,1994.
Goffart, Walter. “Byzantine policy in the West under Tiberius II and Maurice: the pretenders Hermenegild and Gundovald (579-585).” Traditio (1957): 73-118.
Goffart, Walter. “The Frankish Pretender Gundovald, 582–585. A Crisis of Merovingian Blood.” Francia 39 (2012): 1-27.
Gregory of Tours, Ten Books of Histories translated by Lewis Thorpe in The History of the Franks. London: Penguin, 1974.
Wood, Ian. The Merovingian Kingdoms 450-751. London: Routledge, 1994.
Wood, Ian N. “The secret histories of Gregory of Tours.” Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire 71, no. 2 (1993): 253-270.
I have just started a podcast and have uploaded it to Podbean. As part of this endeavour, I shall also share my podcasts here, so I can provide a complete script and bibliography which I cannot on some other sites.
Script:
Introduction
Hello there, my name is Liam and this is The Early Medieval Podcast. Today, I’m going to be talking about Jordanes Getica or Gothic History, but as this is the first episode I want to start off with an introduction to myself and the podcast. So let’s begin. I am currently a Masters student in Medieval Studies at the University of York and my interests include philosophy (medieval, modern and postmodern), network analysis and sixth-century Italy. I also run a blog called ‘Philosophical Ostrogoth’ where I post my thoughts on these topics, especially and unsurprisingly, because of its name, the main focus is on philosophy.
Why have I chosen to start a podcast? Well firstly I want to share my passion for Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages with the public. Secondly, I feel there is a gap in the podcast market for the Early Middle Ages. Finally, because I just want to try something new and exciting as a hobby.
Now another thing I want to mention is that I am a complete amateur at podcasting. I don’t have an expensive microphone and so expect hitches. Writing scripts for the public is also new for me, therefore I will likely change my style as I go on. First and foremost the podcast is meant to be fun, for me and the listeners. I will also not keep to a strict schedule at first, but if I gain enough followers I might. Furthermore, the podcasts may be short at first, but I expect them to still be informative about the subject I am discussing.
Before I start, I also want to highlight that I am working with limited resources and texts at the minute. Due to coronavirus, I can’t access physical books from my university library, so I will be working with what I can get.
With that short introduction other, let’s begin talking about the Getica. The central debate that I shall be focusing on today is whether Jordanes’ work can be used to accurately talk about early Gothic history. In particular, I will talk about whether it contains genuine Gothic folk memories or whether it is a literary work far removed from that context.
Who was Jordanes? He was a Goth, but he was also thoroughly Roman. He grew up as part of a Gothic people who had been settled in the Eastern Roman Empire for a long time. Furthermore, as informs us himself, he was a convert into Catholicism, he was not an Arian like the Ostrogoths. The Getica or Gothic History was written in Constantinople, so he wrote under conditions that may have made him biased towards the Eastern Roman Empire. The Getica was complete sometime after March 551.
One important point, which we will return to throughout this episode, is that the Getica was supposedly an abridgement of an earlier work by the Roman statesmen Cassiodorus, who served at the Ostrogothic court in Italy. Jordanes writes ‘you urge me to leave the little work I have in hand, that is the abbreviation of the Chronicles, and to condense in my own style in this small book the twelve volumes of the Senator on the origin and deeds of the Getae from olden time the present day’. Keeping in mind this fact will serves well to remind us the complex nature of the Getica.
I will now give an overview of the history, so you have a general sense of the structure of the text. The History starts off with a geographic section, which introdunces Scandza or Scandinavia as the supposed original home of the Goths. It then describes the entry of the Goths into Scythia and their activities in the areas surrounding there- Scythia in this instance is the Eastern Balkans and Asia Minor. The narrative then goes on discuss how the Goths were now split into the Ostrogoths and Visigoths, though at the same they are still effectively one people. It, at this point, describes their interactions with the Roman Empire. That is until the Huns arrive and force the Ostrogoths and Visigoths to move apart. Following on from this the two peoples have fairly distinct histories and the Getica follows these. Firstly, by looking at the Visigoths and then by examining the history of the Ostrogoths. The Getica’s narrative terminates with the conquest of Ostrogothic Italy by the Eastern Roman Emperor Justinian.
Is the Getica accurate?
Hopefully, you now have a general sense of what the Getica says and the narrative it tells. However, is it accurate or is it a mere literary project with specific aims in mind? Most scholars don’t fall into two easy camps about the work. Liebeschuetz, for example, argues the Goths, like mentioned in the Getica, were already a people or gens before entering the Roman Empire. He comments on the fact that as an illiterate society they likely transmitted their histories orally. Therefore, the Getica might contain ‘folk memories’ which were passed down from Goth to Goth. Liebeschuetz writes ‘it is therefore practically certain that stories about the migration were passed from generation to generation in heroic song; and as these stories have no links with any events in Greco-Roman history, they are extremely unlikely to have been derived from any Greco-Roman source. Moreover, because the kings reported to have led the migration are assigned to neither the Amals nor the Balthi, they are not likely to have been invented to glorify the families of either Alaric or Theoderic.’ However, Liebeschuetz also points out that these stories about the Gothic migrations were likely distorted over time. Therefore, accordingly, the Getica likely contains memories with partial truths. The story about their migration may be accurate to a certain extent.
Now, as mentioned, the evidence for Liebeschuetz’s point comes from when the Getica mentions Gothic songs about great ancestors. When describing their entry into Scythia and their defeat of the Spali, Jordanes writes that ‘the story is generally told in their early songs, in almost historic fashion.’ Therefore, we know from this that the Goths had traditions which they passed down through songs. However, were they accurate? Note how Jordanes writes ‘in almost historic fashion’. It seems even Jordanes had doubts about the veracity of these traditions. Straight after this he also mentions the Gothic History of Ablabius, whom he consulted while writing the Getica¸ which he contrastingly calls a ‘most trustworthy account’. It seems to be me, and I don’t think this point has been made before to my knowledge, that Jordanes himself seems to have doubts about the oral histories of the early Gothic migrations. This point is reinforced later when Jordanes makes reference to stories about the Goths being subjected to slavery in Britain, which he calls ‘old wives tales’, while also stating ‘I prefer to believe what I have read’. On this basis then we can doubt certain parts of the Gothic migration story told in the Getica.
I will now mention some other scholarly approaches to the Getica. Herwig Wolfram, like Liebeschuetz, takes a moderate approach to the accuracy of the early parts of the Getica. He criticises Walter Goffart, whom we shall come to, for taking an overly literary approach to Early Medieval source in The Narrators of Barbarian History. Nevertheless, he also suggests the Amal pedigree in the Getica – the Amals being the Ostrogothic ruling family- was likely forged by Cassiodorus. There are also two defenders who believe in the historicity of the Gothic migration stories- Walter Pohl and Richard Wenskus. They offer quite subtle arguments, even if I don’t necessarily agree with them. Wenskus argues that there was no reason for Jordnaes to invent a Scandinavian origin, he writes ‘it was considerably more obvious for a historian of this age to devise a connection to the famous peoples of antiquity, as many examples show.’ And then he states ‘Jordanes’s claim is wholly atypical for his time and therefore proceeds with a high degree of certainty from traditions that have a high degree of probability.’ To summarise, the Scandinavian origin of the Goths is not fictional, because there was no obivious reason to chose it as a literary trope.
Walter Pohl offers another defence of the treasured Scandinavian origin. He suggests that the Scandinavian origin story does not fit in and subverts ‘the orderly narrative based on the written sources’. The story of the Goths- the Scythian, Getic and Dacian past- meanwhile are fictional because they employ other works in a literary style. Therefore, the Scandinavian origin can be true, while other parts of the narrative are false. Nevertheless, I do not think these arguments overturn the previous points about Jordanes’ own doubt about the oral history of the Goths. And so now I turn to Walter Goffart and his more literary approach to the Getica, which shall reinforce my argument.
Walter Goffart and Jordanes
First, a disclaimer, although I think Goffart’s arguments are the most persuasive out of the texts I read while preparing for this podcast. I do not wholly agree with him. In fact, I am not actually sure how much I subscribe to his views. For example, his ideas about Jordanes’ ‘plot’ for the Getica has some problems. Nevertheless, I think the biggest thing one can take from Goffart is his understanding of how complex the Getica is as a text- with its borrowings from other sources and its relation (or lackt thereof) to Cassiodorus’ work. I will now proceed and give an introduction to Goffart’s ideas.
A key point raised by Goffart is that the Getica deserves to be studied in his own right, it should not be simply seen as a mere abridgement of Cassiodorus’ earlier work. For example, Jordanes cites other sources like Ablabius and geographers like Ptolemaeus . For me, Goffart’s focus on the uniqueness of the Getica allows us to approach the work, fairly and on its terms, which I think is pivotal.
However, Goffart’s main argument is that the Getica is a literary text with specific aims in mind- its was not intended to provide a completely accurate history. What was its purpose? Well, for Goffart, it was to integrate the Goths into Justinian’s Eastern Roman Empire. According to Goffart the Getica ‘centres on the love between two peoples, Romans and Goths’. Justinian had recently conquered Italy, so there was a need to integrate the Goths into the Eastern Roman Empire. However, according to Goffart, the love story may overall be happy, but it also involves a tumultuous relationship. Goffart writes the Goths and Romans union ‘is impeded by the absurd institution of Gothic kingship, by the resultant impostors, by bad Roman Emperors, and by Gothic lapses into atavistic behaviour; and is fostered by such kindly helpers as Constantine, Theodosius, Athanaric, Wallia, Justinian and Belisarius.’
That the Getica was intended to support Gothic integration into the Eastern Roman Empire is backed by several pieces of evidence. I will now mention some of them. Firstly, the Goths aided Emperor Maximian against the Parthians. Secondly, when the Goth Athanaric enters the city of Constantinople and sees the Imperial army, he exclaims ‘Truly the Emperor is a god on earth, and who raises a hand against him is guilty of his own blood’. However, the most important piece of evidence, as covered by Goffart, is the fact that Vitiges consort Mathesuentha, a Goth, and the Roman Patrician Germanus, Justinian’s cousin, are married and bear a child who is of mixed Gothic and Roman blood. Therefore, uniting the two races together.
Nevertheless, we must also raise the possibility that the love story between Goths and Romans might actually emerge from Cassiodorus in part. Cassiodorus in his Variae or letters, actively promotes an ideology of civilitas which aimed to unite Goths and Romans in Ostrogothic Italy. Therefore, has Goffart mistook the reason behind the love story in the Getica? The answer is not clear. We must not discount the possibility that Cassiodorus’ influence still finds its way in the text. But on the other hand, the fact that the story terminates with the union of Italy with the Eastern Roman Empire might suggest Goffart’s thesis is more true. My opinion on this matter is likely that the relationship between the Goths and Romans in the Getica is likely a mixture of Cassiodorus and Jordanes. The Getica, as I keep remphasising, is a complex text, it is original, but at the same time combines material from several authors. This results in a degree of ambiguity that needs unscrambling.
Now, we must also point out another nuance. Goffart argues that the Getica can only be understood along Jordanes’ other work, the Romana. This includes a universal Christian history, followed by a Roman history up to Justinian. Combined the works aim to place the Goths history with that of the Classical and Christian worlds. This placing of the Goths into the past is shown throughout the Getica. One example includes Philip, the father of Alexander the Great, making an alliance with the Goths and taking to wife Medopda, the daughter of the Gothic King Gudila. Goffart’s understanding about the Romana and Getica being placed together is therefore key. Again, the Getica must be seen as being caught in an intertextual web.
What I think?
You will likely now have an idea about my general ideas about the Getica’s historicity. However, to conclude, let me clarify it. Firstly, I believe we should approach the Getica as a literary text, despite Wolfram’s protestations. However, I do not want to completely dismiss the possibility of it containing genuine Gothic memories passed down from generation to generation. I just think we simply can’t prove them to be true. Even Jordanes had doubts about his sources for the Gothic migrations.
So is Goffart right? I have doubts about his ‘love story’, he needs to account, which he does, for the aspects of the Getica that contradict his theory. On the other hand, the evidence he cites for it is pretty strong and there are certainly aspects of the Getica that supports his thesis. But, I think, his biggest contribution is to treat the Getica as a literary text. Throughout this podcast, I have kept on mentioning the fact that the Getica is a complex source and I believe Goffart has this appreciation for the text.
So to finish off, the biggest thing I have took from my research on the Getica is its complexity. It is an amalgamation of several sources combined with original ideas. It therefore likely contains several discourses, which either help or contradict Jordanes. So let us be clear we must understand the Getica through its intertextuality, while also not concluding this prevents it from being original. The Getica therefore must be viewed as a literary work primarily.
That’s it, this is the end of my first podcast. I hope you have enjoyed it and found it informative. If you have any questions, please feel free to make a comment. Goodbye and see you soon.
Bibliography:
Goffart, Walter. “Jordanes’s “Getica” and the Disputed Authenticity of Gothic Origins from Scandinavia.” Speculum 80, no. 2 (2005): 379-98.
Goffart, Walter. The Narrators of Barbarian History (A.D 550-800: Jordanes, Gregory of Tours, Bede and Paul the Deacon. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988.
Liebeschuetz, J.H.W.G. “Making a Gothic History: Does the Getica of Jordanes Preserve Genuinely Gothic Traditions?” Journal of Late Antiquity 4, no. 2 (2011): 185-216.
Wolfram, Herwig. “Origo et Religio: Ethnic Traditions and Literature in Early Medieval Texts”. Early Medieval Europe, 3, no.1 (1994): 19-38.
Philosophical Ostrogoth 