Paradise Still Lost: Epigrams as a Test Case for Textual Fidelity

As a result of this brief review of The Myth of the Andalusian Paradise, I was invited to submit a chapter to an awesome forthcoming Routledge volume entitled The Extreme Right and the End of Historiography, in which I was able to return to the chapter that I walked through very quickly in the blog post review and give historical and historiographic context in greater depth and go into more detail about the problems in the book with more examples and specifics. After the pushback I got from right-wing commentators both on the blog and on Goodreads complaining that I was talking about historiography and interpretation rather than facts as such, I had a space to lay out  a really detailed, textually grounded case against the book. And in fact, my first draft ran to sixty pages and still didn’t address all of the mistakes and misrepresentations in a single chapter and the historiographic context in which they were committed. One of the sections that I’ve cut is only tangentially related because it concerns the epigrams within the chapter rather than the body of the text itself; however, I wanted to post it here because it is also one of the clearest-cut cases of the ways in which Fernández-Morera distorts material and draws upon the work of hate groups; and it raises the question: If he can’t even represent short quotations in a few epigrams honestly and correctly, why should his readers trust the rest of his readings and analysis?

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Epigrams as a Test Case for Textual Fidelity

The structure of each chapter of The Myth alternates between a series of epigrams that represent Fernández Morera’s antagonists and his argument against them. Our present case study, chapter six, opens with the following observation by the author:

“As the epigraphs in this chapter indicate, it is widely believed that Islam granted to Spain’s Jewish community, composed largely of Sephardic Jews [sic, see above], a substantial degree of liberty and tolerance. According to this view, the idyllic life for Spain’s Jews was interrupted by the invasion of the ‘fanatical’ Almoravids and Almohads, and later by the ‘intolerant’ Christian kingdoms during the Spanish Reconquista. However, the fact of the matter is that the life enjoyed by the Sephardim, within and without their communities, was full of limitations long before the invasion of the Almoravids and Almohads, and that the Catholic kingdoms eventually became a place of refuge for Jewish families.”[1]

This opening sentence sets up the epigrams as representative of key positions that the author plans to refute. Yet by bowdlerizing even these citations, he calls into question his treatment not only of the scholarship in the field but even of the primary sources themselves.

The first epigram is drawn from the article “Sephardim” on the web site Jewish Virtual Library.[2] It contains a brief overview of the history of Jews in Spain before moving on to its main topic, the Sephardi diaspora; it ostensibly illustrates the attitudes of the mainstream, liberal scholars against whose work Fernández-Morera sets his own. The quoted passage reads: “The era of Muslim rule in Spain (8th-11th century) was considered the ‘Golden Age’ for Spanish Jewry. Jewish intellectuals and spiritual life flourished and many Jews served in Spanish courts. Jewish economic expansion was unparalleled.”[3] An examination of the article in its entirety reveals it to be compromised by erroneous information on both the small-detail and big-picture scales. Some of the errors are relatively minor (although not insignificant), such as giving the date of the conquest of Toledo by Alfonso VI as 1089 instead of 1085 and implying that Muslim rule ended in the Iberian Peninsula in the 11th century. But other errors reveal a broader misunderstanding of the religious history of al-Andalus, misunderstandings upon which Fernández-Morera is willing to hang his own argument. Again, by way of example, the article writes that Jews treated Arabic as a replacement for Hebrew; in fact, though, rabbinic authorities were clear that when Arabic was used in a Jewish liturgical context (and not all such authorities permitted it), it was to be used to supplement, rather than replace, the Jewish sacred languages of Hebrew and Arabic. Of greatest consequence for the political and religious stakes of Fernández Morera’s book is an erroneous description in the article of the evolution of Christian belief in Visigothic Spain: Following an explanation of Visigoths’ religious beliefs, namely that they adhered to the apostolic Arian Christian faith before converting en masse to Catholicism in the year 587, the article’s section on Visigothic rule concludes with the assertion that “in 638 C.E., the Arian Visigoths declared that ‘only Catholics could live in Spain,’”[4] thereby demonstrating a fundamental misunderstanding of the religious sea-change that took place by virtue of that conversion of and the incompatibility of Arian and Catholic belief. By selecting this article as the source for his epigram Fernández-Morera can seemingly support his contention that writing on medieval Spain ignores or misrepresents Christian history when this is in fact a broader pattern of errors in the article “Sephardim” and not exclusive to the history and theology of Christianity. Some bad work will always be published regardless of its politics; that does not make it representative of the state of the field or the quality of its scholarship as a whole. And as a popularizing encyclopedia article, it is also not representative of the kinds of academic studies with which Fernández-Morera claims to be taking issue.

In addition to choosing a weak, straw-man adversary in the form of this epigram, Fernández-Morera has chosen one from a site that makes its political leanings clear; and they are not ones that support his overall argument about the liberal biases of the academic study of medieval Spain. The Jewish Virtual Library is digital encyclopedia project of the non-profit organization American-Israeli Cooperative Enterprise; its web site fawningly sports quotations from right-of-center politicians Benjamin Netanyahu[5] and Donald Trump speaking in their capacities as the heads of their respective governments.[6]  Rather than illustrating that liberal professors are the sole source of his pernicious imagined myth of al-Andalus as a paradise he instead shows that positive portrayals of Islamic Spain can also be promoted in popular sources supported by right-wing political and religious organizations and that those portrayals can be made to serve right-wing agendas. He has taken an example of sloppy writing about the topic from a right-wing web site and implicitly passed it off as an example of what is wrong with left-wing popular writing on the topic.

As another example of supposed visions of al-Andalus that incorrectly promote a picture of tolerance occurs in the second epigram in the chapter:

“The years between 900 and 1200 in Spain and North Africa are known as the Hebrew ‘golden age,’ a sort of Jewish Renaissance that arose from the fusion of the Arab and Jewish intellectual worlds. Jews watched their Arab counterparts closely and learned to be astronomers, philosophers, scientists, and poets. At its peak about one thousand years ago, the Muslim world made a remarkable contribution to science, notably mathematics and medicine. Baghdad in its heyday and southern Spain built universities to which thousands flocked. Rulers surrounded themselves with scientists and artists. A sprit of freedom allowed Jews, Christians, and Muslims to work side by side.”[7]

Fernández Morera attributes this quotation to an article by Francis Ghiles in a 1983 article in the journal Nature entitled “What is Wrong With Muslim Science?”[8]; however, his citation is only partially accurate. Ghiles’ article is in fact a review of a book review of Ziauddin Sardar’s 1982 monograph Science and Technology in the Middle East,[9] a volume that is in fact critical of overly-rosy presentations of science in the Islamic Middle East. The Nature review of that book actually opens with the portion of the text cited by Fernández-Morera beginning with “at its peak” and continuing through the end of the citation. The first two sentences appear nowhere in Ghiles’ review; instead they come from the FAQ section of a web site called Jews for Allah, which appears to be aimed primarily at encouraging Jews to convert to Islam.[10] In response to a query about the role of minorities in Islamicate civilizations,  the FAQ section introduces Ghiles’ review with those two sentences as an editorial response to the question and then quotes the opening sentences of Ghiles’ review to support that response.[11] In other words, the text as cited in Fernández-Morera’s epigram are cited from Jews for Allah rather than directly from the review; the author erroneously combines the web introduction with the citation from the book review. In doing so, he demonstrates that instead of referring to the texts he claims to have cited he instead uses a web site representative of a strain of modern Islamic antisemitism[12] in order to backform his own fantasy about medieval Islamic antisemitism (which will be discussed in greater detail in the following section). This particular epigram, then, demonstrates flaws in handling sources, recourse to teleological analysis, as well as a reliance upon information gleaned from hate groups.

In addition to misrepresenting its original source and incorporating ideas from a hate group’s web site, this epigram manifests other problems as well. Even as it is presented, erroneously, this epigram does not further an ideology of Andalusi exceptionalism, or the idea that al-Andalus was the uniquely tolerant haven for religious minorities in the Middle Ages. The first source of this combined quotation treats Spain and North Africa correctly as a single geographic and cultural unit,[13] and the second source in the quotation talks about the intellectual innovations both in al-Andalus and in the Abbasid caliphate in Baghdad. In other words, the epigram shows that the idea of tolerance and intellectual flourishing in the Islamic world are not limited to discussions of Islamic Spain, which is itself not treated as an exceptional entity unto itself but rather as a part of Islamicate world systems; the epigram does not, then, serve as evidence for his argument but rather demonstrates its exact opposite.

One of the ways in which this book operates is to interpret selectively and without direct recourse to the primary sources; this is clear simply from a review of the epigrams, and will be demonstrated in greater detail with respect to the body of the work itself in the following section. Fernández-Morera protests much in his introduction that his work’s strength is based on his direct consultation with sources, yet even the epigrams with which he illustrates the problem his book is meant to counter are transcribed incorrectly and indirectly. He asks the reader to trust his analysis of complex medieval sources written in many languages and mediated through the judgment of editors and translators[14] while proving that he does not even go directly to easily accessible[15], contemporary, English-language sources.

Footnotes below the jump.

Continue reading “Paradise Still Lost: Epigrams as a Test Case for Textual Fidelity”

Reading the Poema de Mio Cid in “Dante’s Cult of Truth”: Literary History, Theory, and “Reconquest” Historiography

This is the paper that I am slated to give this afternoon at the workshop “After the Conquest: Converging Approaches to the Study of the Iberian Reconquista” at the Woolf Institute, Cambridge.  Writing the paper allowed me to begin to think through a new chapter in my current book project; perhaps predictably, by the time I was finished writing the conference paper I had gotten my argument just to the point from which I need to start writing the book chapter version. Even as a first draft of a first draft, this is truncated; I had to cut fully a thousand words from my initial version of the paper in order to keep to time — one of the things I’m looking forward to about this workshop is that we’re giving short papers and each session is followed by a roundtable. It seems like it will be a very productive format. The sets of asterisks mark where I did the most butchery — I’ve saved those passages to put back when I begin to (re)construct the chapter. The state of medieval studies online these days is such that I’d simply say: If you read this and are inclined to shout at me for not including enough examples, for not having a more fully developed theoretical framework, or not having cited the work of your favorite theorist or scholar or medieval chronicler, please consider the possibility that it was there in the extended version and will again be there in the book. (I, myself, was particularly unhappy about consigning the work of Nadia Altschul, Simon Barton, and Ibn Bassam to the file called “cut bits of the cambridge reconquest paper.docx.” I don’t have time before the workshop begins but I’ll add some bibliography later to give a sense of where I’m going with all of this in terms of its situation within the field.) This is a paper that really sets out a methodology rather than offering a full display of what it can do. That will come in the parts of the conference that are invisible to the internet and in the much longer project of book-writing. For that, stay tuned.

Continue reading “Reading the Poema de Mio Cid in “Dante’s Cult of Truth”: Literary History, Theory, and “Reconquest” Historiography”

Generic Enemies

There is a 2007 edition of the ethical will of Judah ibn Tibbon that was made within more of a religious publishing framework than an academic one. It’s useful because it has the poetry fully vocalized, but it makes its point of view clear at the expense of scholarship in certain places. (For example, it changes a reference to Samuel’s study in the secular subjects to set him to studying religious law; although the manuscript is clear, the change can be made with one single letter in the Hebrew.)

I discovered today that there is a second edition of this redaction of the text that was produced in Monsey, reprinting the Hebrew edition and adding an English introduction and a translation of parts of the text.

Judah took himself into exile circa 1148 following the rise of the unfairly-maligned Almohad dynasty in Spain. The Hebrew introduction to the volume explains his flight as his reaction to “pressure from Muslim zealots in Spain.”

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Yet somehow, by the time we get to the English introduction, Judah has been driven out of twelfth-century Granada by a recent invasion of Visigoths.

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There is literary precedent in the Middle Ages for the conflation of national enemies and their incarnation in a single form or group or race or tribe, as when Samuel ibn Naghrila uses the names of biblical tribes to refer to the enemies of Zirid Granada, thereby making the political enemies of the state the religious enemies of its Jewish citizens and residents. There are also texts that have a tendency to run to litanies of national enemies with the ultimate outcome being Jewish victory, as well as the literary-religious trope of the Amalekites standing in as any all-purpose enemy.

So the idea of conflating Visigoths with Almohads just to signal both as enemies of Jews certainly comes from somewhere, but there is something very jarring about it all the same.

Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition!: Ben[insert noun here] Netanyahu and European History

Caveat lector: This is not an academic article on the historiography of the Spanish Inquisition or of the implications of Benzion Netanyahu’s historical thinking, although I am certain that such an article could be written. Nor is it even a “long-read” or a well-documented, meticulously argued think piece for an interested lay audience; although my ultimate goal is to use this space to do that kind of better-developed essayistic writing, I will not realistically have the time or the intellectual energy to do so until early next calendar year when my book manuscript will be done and out of my hands. And yet, in my capacity as a medievalist in this modern world, I think I have something original and perhaps of some value to say about an issue that arose this week; and so I am writing about it rather than waiting too long for a proper, full-length, exquisitely footnoted essay to be relevant or of interest. This, then? This is still just a blog post. It is the beginning of the articulation of a thought. It is a mere observation. If you are a reader who needs to consider every bit of another academic’s output in the terms of the academy, then perhaps think of it as an abstract.

Wa-amma ba’d: Several years ago I was teaching a seminar centered around the four seminal events in Spain of the year 1492: The fall of Nasrid rule in Granada, the expulsion of the Jews, Christopher Columbus’ first voyage, and the publication of the first grammar of Spanish with its provocation to empire through language. When the students turned in the annotated bibliographies for their research papers, I noticed that one student had written something to the effect that it made sense that one of her sources, The Origins of the Inquisition in Fifteenth-Century Spain, took such a defensive line about anti-Semitism because it obviously fell within the author’s political goals as prime minister of Israel. I explained to her in my written comments that the “B. Netanyahu” whose name was on the cover was not the prime minister of Israel, but rather his father; I explained how she could use WorldCat or the Library of Congress web site to look up the full name of an author and discover that this weighty volume was written by Benzion and not Benyamin. Privately I shook my head in disbelief that it wouldn’t have occurred to her to question whether it was plausible that the prime minister of Israel might or might not have written such a book. The next time this question arises — and I can say with greater certainty now that it will — I will have no plausible reason to be surprised.

netanyahuFar be it from me to propose a psychoanalytic reading of text, but the prime minister of Israel appears to be moonlighting in his father’s footsteps as a revisionist historian, claiming that Hitler had planned an expulsion of Jews from Germany in the 1930s, and that it was the grand mufti of Jerusalem who spurred him to genocide. My reluctance to resort to Freud aside, there are some striking similarities to the world his father fashioned as a historian; and it is worth considering the consequences of applying a midcentury historical model of the fifteenth century to twentieth-century teleologies of a twenty-first century conflict. I’m surprised this hasn’t come up sooner in the backlash against Netanyahu’s remarks.

In the academic circles in which I travel, Netanyahu Pere is not considered to have been  a first-rate historian. The Origins is recognized as a monumental work, but also as perhaps the apogee of what Salo Baron criticized as the “lachrymose conception of Jewish history” predicated upon a kind of eternal Jewish suffering. Baron ushered in a glass-half-full approach to Jewish history, while Netanyahu remained steadfastly with his glass half empty, famously reducing Jewish history to “a history of holocausts.”

The Origins is two separate, yet intertwined, things: First, it is a religious history that centers the source of the Spanish Inquisition in a doctrinally, spiritually-motivated, historic hatred of Jews rather than a racial one. Second, it is a universalizing history, the kind that tries to situate the experience of the Jews in medieval Spain within the wider experience of the Jews of the rest of Europe and, ultimately, the Jews of the rest of history. He traces the roots of the Spanish Inquisition back to Greece, Rome, and Egypt. Josephus’ Against Apion was not just a book that spoke to the interests of Spanish Jews; it was their own history. Benzion Netanyahu’s historiography, at least in part, sought to make distal causes (both temporal and spiritual) proximate.

By attempting to trace a direct cause of a European genocide back in time and across space, Netanyahu Fils sublimates its proximate and tangible causes to a far more abstract, essentialized, and universal picture. By focusing upon a Muslim agent while informed by a contemporary conflict (largely) between Muslims and Jews, he deploys his own experience of the world to cast hatred of Jews a primordial phenomenon and a religious one rather than a question of race with specific and local historic antecedents. The ends and the context are, of course, very different from each other, but this is also quite clearly an entry into his father’s school of historical thinking.

Benyamin Netanyahu has very directly and actively tried to leverage his father’s work to further his own agenda within the political arena. Yet while doing that and claiming that his father’s work was amongst his greatest influences, he has alternately claimed that his father’s work had no influence upon his own political career; it is a contradiction that does seem to invite an exploration of the Freudian tension in the Netanyahu School, as goes the father, so goes the son. Bad history is bad history, and written or lived, perhaps that is what is the only universal thing.