Chronicle of Theophanes

Harry Turtledove's partial translation of The Chronicle of Theophanes covers the important years 602-813. A pivotal two centuries which saw the rise of Islam and the loss of Byzantine or Roman rule in various important provinces like Egypt and parts of the Middle East, Theophanes's chronicle is one of our major sources. Beginning with the fall of Emperor Maurice and Byzantine wars with Sassanian Persia, the sources utilized for this chronicle partly elucidate why Byzantium struggled with the expansion of Islam. Meanwhile, in addition to wars in the Middle East and Mediterranean, Byzantium faced a threat in the Balkans from the Avars and later the Bulgars. This war on two fronts exposed the Empire to several threats that most of the emperors either lacked the ability or resources to address fully. The problem of iconoclasm in the 8th century added more problems since it created divisions in the Empire among the Christian population and the factions which supported iconoclasm or opposed it. Some emperors, if Theophanes is indeed reliable for the reigns of Leo and Constantine Copronymus, appear to have even taken advantage of iconoclasm to seize wealth and goods from monasteries and laypeople. 

Of course, one must use Theophanes carefully as a source. His repeated references to iconoclastic emperors as impious, evil, and a threat to the world illustrate how the chronicler's own biases may have led him to exaggerate. Nonetheless, given the intense internal divisions within the Empire and the ongoing threat from the Bulgars and Arabs, it is sometimes surprising that it survived. It probably helped that the caliphates appeared to lack the ability to conquer Anatolia and their sieges of Constantinople were thwarted. One's impression from reading Theophanes is that frequent border raids and violations of treaties or agreements were common, but neither side was truly able to achieve a substantial victory against the other. In addition, population movements and relocations must have helped sustain Byzantine rule in areas of conflict, such as the movement of Armenian and Syrian Christians into regions near the Bulgars and the movement of Slavs into Anatolia. Alliances with Western powers like the Franks and even the Khazars could also be of use for protecting Byzantine interests in Europe and the east. 

What stood out to us, however, is the possible reference to someone from East Africa or India who married the wife of a spatharios named Helias. Punished by Emperor Justinian Rhinotmetus, this woman was wed to an "Indian"  cook who, due to the occasional conflation of India and Ethiopia in Greek writings, may have been someone from Africa. Moreover, people from Africa, particularly Nubia and Ethiopia, would have been known to Late Antique Byzantium. Indeed, there were even pagans still living in Harran well into Islamic times, demonstrating the religious diversity of the Middle East long after the establishment of the early caliphates. But what, if any, were the possible links between Byzantium and Nubia or Ethiopia during this centuries? 

The Autobiography of Nicholas Said and Ambivalent Modernity

Said, via Wikipedia

Nicholas Said's relatively short autobiography is one of the most interesting textual sources produced by a native of Borno. The author of this slave narrative was kidnapped by Tuaregs and sold into slavery in North Africa. From Tripoli, Said accompanied a Turkish master who ran a tobacco shop, on the pilgrimage to Mecca. Along the way, Said traveled to Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, today's Saudi Arabia, Somalia, and Muscat. One almost wishes he told us more about the Ethiopian traders he met in Khartoum, or about the African pilgrims en route to Mecca in Sudan and Ethiopia. Alas, that was not his focus, but it would have been interesting if he met others from Borno in Sudan and Ethiopia. After his master's shop is burned down (with half of Tripoli's Turkish bazaar), our protagonist is sent to Izmir, where he is sold to a politically connected Turk who then takes him to Constantinople. After brushing shoulders with the cosmopolitan elites of Constantinople, he is acquired by a Russian diplomat and aristocrat who takes him to the Russian Empire. 

Via travels with a Russian employer, he traverses Europe, experiencing all the aesthetic, technological, and cultural advances of mid-19th century West. Eventually, when in London and planning a return to Borno, a Dutch client offers him employment for an extended trip to North America and the Caribbean. Visiting US cities, the Bahamas, Haiti, and Jamaica, Said and his employer return to the US and Canada, where Said is abandoned after loaning his boss funds. Stranded in Canada, he is encouraged to go to Buffalo, New York, where there are more "colored" people. Thus began Said's experiences in the US on a permanent basis. Perhaps due to the delicate post-Civil War conditions in the US South, Said does not disclose his service in the Union Army. One is also struck by the number of elite or royal people Said claims to have met or served, including receiving a gift from the Czar Nicholas I. One almost senses in this a Kanuri cultural practice of dependents seeking wealthy or powerful men as patrons, and perhaps Said's namedropping was a reflection of that. Or perhaps it served as a counter to US racism, as a "black" man, though in a servile position, was valued and respected by cosmopolitan European elites and experienced little to no racial prejudice. One can sense some tensions, perhaps tied to his race, with European domestics in Russia, and we can be sure there was a lot more that happened to Said in Europe or Turkey than he's willing to admit. Alternatively, Said may have looked to the famous "Negro" of Peter the Great as a model for refashioning his life in the Russian Empire.

So, what does Nicholas Said's biography tell us about Borno and the experience of Borno's peoples in the modern world? First, Said himself represents Borno as a political project encompassing a variety of ethnic groups, including the Kanuri, Shuwa, Kanembu, and, in the case of Said, "Mandra" (Mandara) and Molgoy. Molgoy were a people whose ruling chief accepted a tributary relationship with Borno under Mai Barnoma. Said's mother, Dalla, was the daughter of a Mandra chief. Yet despite these non-Kanuri origins, Said seems to identify wholeheartedly with Borno and refers to the Borno or Kanuri language as his vernacular. Perhaps this a reflection of his father's military service under Shehu al-Kanemi, which meant Said grew up in Kukawa, the capital, and socialized with a son of Shehu Omar. Either way, this is an interesting example of how multiethnic the empire of Borno was, and to what extent people from "pagan" tributary or vassal states in the region could ascend the ranks of the military and social status. 

After all, Mohammad Ali ben Said was the son of Barca Gana, a famous general who defended Borno against the Fulani, Bagirmi, Wadai, and other enemies or raiders. Indeed, it was presumably through his father's prominence and connections with al-Kanemi and his successor that Said was sent for schooling to Malam Katory, a reputed scholar described as being well-versed in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish. Presumably having such a respectable teacher in Arabic was expected for people of elite origins in Borno. Moreover, it was open to people who were not of Kanuri, Kanembu, or Shuwa origins, though Said clearly thought the Kanuri were the ruling class or caste and not above oppressing Shuwa, Kanembu, or other groups.

After establishing how internally diverse and dynamic Borno society was in the 19th century, it's important to consider Said as a native of Borno in the volatile 19th century world, experiencing steamships, railroads, European architecture and science. There is a long-running, underlying current of racial uplift in Said's autobiography, perhaps acquired from his experience in the US with African-Americans and whites. In his own manner, he attacks the argument of African inferiority, while implicitly casting Africans as primitive and the "race" as one in need of elevation through education and uplift. This is the basis for sensing some ambivalence in Said's experience of 'modernity' and tradition, one in which he can praise aspects of Borno and the Ottoman Turks while cursing African Islam as retrograde. Indeed, in Said's retelling of Borno's past and the history of African achievements in technology and handicrafts, he seems to think the palace ruins at Gambaru and Ngazargamu were the achievements of pre-Islamic Borno. Consequently, one can sense an ambivalence in Said's autobiography in terms of religion and race in a changing world. Thus, he can praise the example of the Haitian Revolution as an achievement for our race while wishing Haiti remained colony.

Experiencing the trans-Saharan slave trade first-hand, and 2 distinct but connected routes that carried him from Tripoli to Mecca and back), it is fascinating to see how someone who was reared Muslim and received an Islamic education for at least 2 years struggled with Islam. After baptism in Riga, at the pressure of his Russian aristocratic employer, Said appears to have gradually adopted more severe and dismissive attitudes to Islam. The religion of his homeland, indeed, is blamed for bringing destruction, fanaticism, and slave raiding. Since his audience for the autobiography consisted of Christian Americans in the 19h century, perhaps one can see Said embellishing or exaggerating his religious sentiments or identity. Yet he could have been sincere in those beliefs, and struggled to make sense of the "contest" between Christianity and Islam, the former better for Africa (and the "race"). In this light, it is interesting to compare Said with Edward Blyden. Unlike Blyden, who was not a product of an Islamic West African society, Said presented himself as a Christian who rejects Islam's influence in the continent. Blyden, on the other hand, saw Islam as preparing Africa for eventual Christianization, and in the meantime, promoting education and moderation for moral uplift. Like Said, Blyden did not truck with "fetishism" but both claimed to be for the race. Both also saw in the "mulatto" an implacable obstacle to countries like Haiti. How is it that two men with extensive traveling and education, both in favor of improving the "race," develop ambivalent attitudes toward Africa in the modern world while stressing the benefits of opposing religions? And what does this suggest for the role of Borno in the larger theme of Islam and modern Africa?

The Wars of Justinian

While the lengthy and sometimes tedious Wars of Justinian by Procopius can be occasionally daunting and scattershot, it raises so many questions when considered in relationship with Secret History. In the latter work, Procopius openly criticizes Belisarius and Justinian quite often, while Wars mostly praises Belisarius as a brilliant general and virtuous man. The truth was likely somewhere in the middle. However, before one can even begin to ponder that, this vast history, directly inspired by Thucydides and classical historians, contains a huge wealth of ethnographic data, anecdotal stories, legends, and accounts of military encounters across the known world. 

The sheer scale of the world as known by Procopius takes the reader on a journey across the oikumene, including rich details on the cultures and peoples of Thule (Scandinavia), the Black Sea, Persia, Mesopotamia, Nubia, Himyar and Aksumite Ethiopia, North Africa, Gothic Italy, and Germanic Europe. For us here at the blog, Procopius is a priceless source for understanding Christianization in Nubia during the 6th century in relation to the foreign policy interests of Justinian. He also provides a direct source on the proposed alliance between the Roman Empire and the Aksumites against the Sassanid Persians, which hints at the thwarted attempts on the part of the Aksumites to directly access silk goods through direct trade with India (blocked by Persia). Whether or not some of the other ethnographic, political and geographic observations and anecdotes by Justinian are true, they make up the most entertaining aspects of his long work.

As for the text's uneasy relationship with the other writings of Procopius, there is definitely a shared current of criticism of imperial policy. Justinian, for instance, comes across as distracted and unwise in his appointment of military commanders and policy during the lengthy Gothic War in Italy. For example, while the Roman forces in Italy were falling apart, and Slavic hordes raiding Illyria and Thrace, Justinian, said to never sleep, was involving himself in theological and religious disputes among Christians. And after various wars and broken truces with the Persians, Procopius sums up the result being essentially Rome paying tribute to the Sassanians. According to Procopius, Justinian did not punish or properly chastise military commanders for their mistakes in the various campaigns in the East or West. The Roman emperor, and his wife, Theodora, allegedly expressed unwise political decisions, with Theodora always siding with women in distress. Of course, according to Procopius, it was Theodora whose will and determination to remain Empress which forced Justinian to fight the rebels in Byzantion during the Nika riots. Antonina, unlike Belisarius, Theodora and Justinian, does not receive as much criticism as in Secret History.

Nevertheless, there is an underlying current of criticism of Justinian and his various wars, pointing out their questionable benefits in places like Libya, where the Romans eventually defeated Moorish forces but were left with a depopulated province. Indeed, waging wars on two fronts with powerful foes while using disloyal barbarian mercenaries or allies probably did not help, either. Moreover, as the empire's boundaries expanded, disputes over Christian doctrine, social unrest among the fan club factions, an assassination plot that endeavored to include Justinian's nephew, and a deadly plague in 542 point to several internal problems that threatened the foundation of the growing empire. In conjunction with Anecdota, one seems to see in all this war and folly of Justinian a critique of tyranny and misrule of an empire which was supposed to be favored by God. Critiques of tyrannical and murderous Persian rulers or barbarian kings must be veiled criticisms of the emperor, whose lack of proper governance and virtue threatened to unravel all the gains of the Empire. Belisarius, on the other hand, in Wars, may have been virtuous and only impeded by Justinian, but the truth was likely somewhere in the middle.

1001 Nights

We here at the blog spent several months of a year of our youth reading various versions of Arabian Nights. The last week, out of the blue, we spent more time revisiting various longer tales from 1001 Nights for nostalgia and the wondrous, timelessness of ancient tales. After reading more examples of ancient fiction, romances, and stories-within-a-story from other parts of the world, we've come to appreciate Arabian Nights even more than before. Some of the story cycles are even more entertaining than our nostalgic lens remembered, particularly the Sindbad cycle. Yes, it was added to the 1001 Nights anthology in Galland's translation, but the Sindbad stories help recreate the world of merchants and seafarers in and around the Indian Ocean over 1000 years ago. Other tales explore always-relevant tales of romance, divine intervention, and adventures in and around Egypt, Iraq, Syria, and other regions.  Some of the classics we still fondly recall include The Story of Nur al-Din and Shams al-Din and The City of Brass.

The World of Late Antiquity

Finally read Peter Brown's The World of Late Anqituity, a far more accessible essay on the period than the lectures The Making of Late Antiquity. Here, Brown's classic essay provides a great overview of the period, challenging the Gibbonesque paradigm of decline and fall. Instead, changes in the social, economic, religious, and spiritual conditions in the Roman Empire and its environs beginning in the 3rd century gradually brought about the features now known as "Late Antique," which created a different type of Roman Empire and new orientation to spirituality that favored Christianity's expansion. While there was undoubtedly a collapse of the western empire's political administration, when looking at the entirety of the region during the period, it is not really a tale of decline and fall brought about by Christianity. The book's definite strength lies in its analysis of religious and spiritual changes in the eastern Mediterranean and the western empire. The chapters on Sassanian Persia and early Islam may have been necessary to provide a complete overview of the "Near East" that led to the "end" of a united Mediterranean world centered on a single empire, but they are clearly not the author's area of specialization. The figure of the holy man, the growing importance of bishops and monastic communities in the eastern Mediterranean and the increasing importance of the Roman Catholic Church in the west as the inheritor of the aristocratic senatorial classes are all fascinating processes.

The Gnostic Religion: The Message of the Alien God & the Beginnings of Christianity

After finally reading The Gnostic Religion: The Message of the Alien God & the Beginnings of Christianity, one can gain some insights into how Philip K. Dick combined his philosophic interests in idealism and metaphysics with Gnostic and Christian themes that predominate in his later works. While I am not entirely certain of this, one cannot help but feel Dick read the work of Jonas on Gnosticism. The timing works, mid-1960s and all. And Jonas wrote a nice overview of Gnosticism but I think more contemporary scholarship has benefited from more complete access to the Nag Hammadi finds and other sources. 

One also thinks some are ready to jettison the concept of a singular "Gnosticism' since it consisted of so many different groups and sects which did not necessarily share much. The church fathers who dismissed them as heretics or Plotinus the neoplatonist may have grouped followers of Valentinus and others together as heretics, but that does not necessarily unite the followers of Valentinus and Mani with the Mandeans or followers of the Corpus Hermeticum. Hans Jonas himself admits this several times in various chapters on Valentinians, Macrosians, Manichaeans, Mandaeans, etc.

However, they all shared some similar core concepts that can ultimately be traced to what he sees as three important influences: Iranian dualism, Babylonian astrology, and Jewish monotheism, within a Hellenistic framework. One cannot discount the context of the Roman Empire and the shift from the polis to imperial governance. Despite this Hellenistic framework, there was nonetheless very different cosmogonies and biblical exegesis in the various schools of 'Gnosticism.' Manichaeanism and Mandaeans seem very distinct from each other, with various sects being more overtly anti-Jewish, equating the demiurge with the Old Testament God. The Babylonian astrology sources enter through Hellenistic astrology in Egypt and the rest of the Mediterranean world, with the various planets/celestial spheres and stars becoming associated with various names of the Old Testament God or aeons. 

It's a sometimes bewildering hodgepodge of various schools of thought in religion, mysticism, and  but as Jonas says, some Gnostics would have been horrifying to Christians for their vastly different interpretations of Scriptures (sometimes equating the Edenic serpent as a positive force, for instance) as well as rejecting works or or the moral "laws" of the false material world. Furthermore, by rejecting the celestial spheres and the cosmos as the imprisoning world of a lesser being, Gnostics would have been heretical or rebellious to the earlier Greek notion of the cosmos and Neoplatonists like Plotinus or the Stoics. Either the "Gnostics' became libertines or ascetics, rejecting the physical world as a creation of the Darkness/Demiurge/lesser god. 

In the epilogue, Jonas tries to connect Gnosticism and existentialism, but I don't see much of any connection besides what he calls a shared "anthropological anticosmism." But the comparison is revealing nonetheless, since some of the parallels in the world ancient world he draws may have influenced science fiction writers like Dick. For example, the rise of the Roman Empire and the the post-WWII US hegemony (or US and USSR "Empires" as Eastern and Western halves of the same imperial power) may have appealed to Dick's sense of the post-WWII global "empire" of the US/USSR, and the need to escape the totalitarian/all-encompassing "fake" world of the 20th century with its false reality that binds us to this realm. I cannot say for certain that Dick read Jonas, but it is certainly possible his own theophany and interests in Zoroastrianism and Gnosticism were informed by him. The influence of astrology and ancient astronomy on Gnostic thought could have also appealed to writers of science fiction, which may contribute to the omnipresence of Gnostic themes in various forms of SF from Dick's novels to anime series like Ergo Proxy.

Levantines in Haiti

Syrian-Haitian women ca. 1950, CIDIHCA.

Last but certainly not the least in this blog's series on immigration in Haiti, the Levantine presence warrants attention. While they continue to arouse the ire of some Haitians, often accused of selling out the country to the US, they are the products of the what is likely the largest wave of immigration to Haiti in the last century. Although estimates vary, perhaps 10,000 Syriens, mostly from Lebanon, were in Haiti by the early 1900s (Syrien being the general term for people of Levantine origin). Local newspapers of the era inflate the number to 15,000 or higher, but without reliable census figures, it was likely much smaller. Indeed, due to the animosity of Le Devoir and other Haitian newspapers in the early 1900s, it was likely in their interest to exaggerate the number of Syriens in Haiti to alarm the authorities. But assuming a lower estimate of, say, 3000 ca. 1910, which is Aubin's guess, remains a large foreign presence distributed in nearly every region of Haiti. Perhaps many or most of these waves of Syriens who came to Haiti between 1890-1915 left, relocating to New York, Mexico, Honduras,  the Dominican Republic, and other destinations. Clearly, there were thousands of foreigners from the Levant operating in Haiti for at least some period in the 25 years preceding the first US Occupation. 

Feminist Yvonne Hakim-Rimpel was the daughter of a Levantine, Eli Abdallah Hakim. Her sister made history as the first female dentist in Haiti.

In Anglophone scholarship, the best works on Levantines in Haiti are by Plummer and Nicholls. The former situates the growing economic power of Levantines within US economic interests in the Caribbean. In short, the Syriens were supported by the US, which sought to supplant Germany and France in Haiti and ensure the Caribbean remained an American lake. Nicholls, on the other hand, compares the Levantines of Haiti with their kin residing in other Caribbean nations. He uses a comparative approach to reach some conclusions about the nature of social relations, national identity, and assimilation in Haiti, Jamaica, Trinidad and the Dominican Republic through the incorporation or non-incorporation of Levantines in each aforementioned nation. At times, one questions the reasoning of Nicholls for some of his conclusions, especially since anti-Syrien sentiment or policy were present in places where Levantines were assimilable, including Jamaica and the DR. However, Nicholls is probably on to something. For instance, discussions with Haitians  or a quick perusal of Haitian social media do suggest that the Syrien has still not quite been accepted as a Haitian. Additional scholarship in English is difficult to come by, although references to Levantines abound in the literature on the US Occupation, commerce, or the biography of Issa El Saieh. Indeed, Mats Lundahl and Louis Carl Saint Jean's study of Issa El Saieh is a priceless source for information about a prominent Haitian of Arab descent. It explains his Palestinian roots, chain migration from the Levant, his mother's success as a businesswoman, and the ambiguous status of Syrians for much of his life, and El Saieh's role in Haitian music and art. 

Issa El Saieh, born in Petit-Goave to Palestinian parents, led an important band which fused jazz elements with Haitian music. He was immortalized by Graham Greene in The Comedians.

Besides Plummer and Nicholls, a Haitian historian, Joseph Bernard, has also chronicled the history of Arabs in Haiti. In Histoire des colonies arabe et juive d'Haïti, Joseph provides a basic overview of the Arab and Jewish "colonies" in Haiti. The two groups overlap due to the presence of Levantine Jews in Haiti. Bernard credits the Syriens with the introduction of credit in Haiti, outlines their accumulation of capital, and eventual prominence in commerce. Bernard includes cultural production of the era in his overview, such as Vendenesse Ducasse's play, Haitiens et Syriens, which, depicted Syriens in unflattering ways. From the perspective of a social scientist, Labelle's Idéologie de couleur et classes sociales provides a useful overview of social classes in Haiti, often referring to the Syro-Lebanese position in the local social structure. For those interested in literature on Levantines in Haiti, Georgia Makhlouf, a descendant of this community, has written a novel about Haiti, which may be interesting since her perspective is that of a Lebanese woman whose Haitian father returned to the Levant. In addition, a French language documentary on Arab migration to Haiti, Un certain bord de mer, un siècle de migration arabe en Haïti, summarizes the history of Levantines in Haiti while interviewing members of prominent families (Boulos, Acra, Gebara, Apaid, Khawly). 

Part of an article from the 17 Avril 1902 issue of Le Devoir, one of the most consistently anti-Syrien newspapers in Port-au-Prince. Le Devoir was an ardent supporter of the anti-Syrien campaign.

So, where does one begin with tracing the origins of Levantine migration to Haiti? In Lebanon, Syria, and Palestine of the late 19th century, religious persecution and other factors triggered migration to the Americas. These Arabs, mostly Christians with a few Jews among them, were from various villages of Lebanon, Palestine, and Syria, and many brought their families or relatives with them (or sent for them later, often becoming transnational across the Caribbean region). Haiti, along with other parts of Latin America and the Caribbean, received thousands of migrants from the Levant during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. One of the reasons Haiti may have received 10,000 or more during the period 1890-1915 is the relaxed attitude of Haitian authorities with regard to documents. Gonzalez's  Dollar, Dove, and Eagle: One Hundred Years of Palestinian Migration to Honduras suggests this may be the reason Haiti was a popular first destination for Levantines coming to the Americas. It also may explain why the population lacked any formal institutions or organizations, since many were only in Haiti for a short period (in addition to official policy discriminating against Syriens after 1903). 

Within a few years of their earliest documented arrival in 1890, newspapers in Port-au-Prince and Cap-Haitien criticize the Syriens for selling goods in the streets and violating Haitian laws. Almost immediately, negative comparisons are made to the Chinese in the US, with various Haitian newspapers calling for and eventually succeeding in winning anti-Syrien legislation. In fact, heads of state, such as Leconte, provided explicit support for anti-Syrien movements. Laws designed to suppress their growing numbers and curtail their business operations to protect the already weak position of Haitians in commerce de détail were implemented. Furthermore, the 1904 centennial of Haitian independence may have fueled some of the anti-Syrien fervor as local writers and competitors exploited national sentiment or pride. Members of the French and German business community in Haiti also supported these efforts to ensure their own position as Levantines pushed US products in Haiti. Meanwhile, the Syriens, by selling on credit, minimizing their consumption habits (large families allegedly slept in the same room or small homes), traversing the Haitian countryside selling their wares, and receiving protection from US officials (some claimed US citizenship), were able to gradually accumulate capital, enlarge their business concerns, and establish a more permanent foothold.

Interior of the dry goods store owned by Antoine Moussa Talamas in Port-au-Prince. Founded in 1910, a brief description can be found in Haïti, 1919-1920, livre bleu d'Haïti, blue book of Hayti. This Talamas was the grandfather of Issa El Saieh, showing the familial and economic links that bound together various Syrien-owned firms.

Due to repression, looting, and groups like the Anti-Syrien Association, which was formed under Leconte and verified the documents of Syriens, the early Levantine migrants lacked an official association or institution. With the exception of a single restaurant, according to Aubin, they lacked any formal organization which represented them collectively. Since they claimed a variety of nationalities, Syriens could attempt to use French or US citizenship and appeal to those consuls for protection, which they would need. The resentment of the local retailers  and traders, foreign merchants, and, to a certain extent, the popular classes in Haitian towns, must have made the initial experience of Levantines a difficult one to endure. According to Camille Devereux, a cocoa exporter interviewed by The New York Times in 1904 after looting destroyed 3 Syrian shops in Arcahaie, their lifestyle, foreign origins, unhealthy living arrangements, and obsession with making money distinguished them as a problem. Other sources from this era cited by Nicholls also indicate the common perception that the Syrien raised revenue for their families back in the Levant, not investing locally or contributing to national development and industry. Le Devoir compared the situation to that of Argentina, where similar legislation against Syriens were instituted. Unlike other foreigners in Haiti, such as Cubans, who taught valuable skills and often married local women, or Germans who invested in railroads and small-scale industry, the Syrian was accused of parasitism. Indeed, Haiti was not alone in attempting to prohibit Levantine immigration or restrict their commercial activities.

An article from La Ruche also displays anti-Syrien sentiment with regard to corruption and the gros bourgeois during the 1940s. Syriens like Bouez and non-Levantine wealthy businessmen like Oswald Brandt were beneficiaries of Lescot's corrupt administration.

Things begin to improve for Levantines after 1915. The US Occupation completed Haiti's orientation to US finance, industry, and investment, which assisted Syriens who were already tied to US manufacturers or used their networks in New York to buy and sell US goods in Haiti. In 1920, the Syrien community established a formal organization of around 40 members, Club Commercial Syrien, which hosted balls, engaged in charity work, and pursued, as the name would suggest, commercial interests. Members of the organization in the 1920s and 1930s included many of the well-known Levantine families in Haiti: Gebara, Boulos Sada, Shemtob, Bigio. They also hosted Syrian cultural events, bringing speakers such as Habib Estefano to Haiti and promoting Syrian music and culture. Their economic power is also attested by receptions they held for visiting dignitaries, including Horacio Vasquez and Rafael Trujillo of the Dominican Republic. A few, such as the Gebara brothers, launched a cigarette factory with Pantaleon Guilbaud, perhaps one of the first examples of Syrien Haitians investing in industry or manufacturing. These developments suggest a degree of stability for Levantines, as well as attempts to secure their position as well as retain or expand on their connections with other Lebanese, Syrian, and Palestinian groups in the hemisphere. Unfortunately, they do not appear to have established a newspaper, like their counterparts in the Dominican Republic and elsewhere, but a formal organization like the Club Commercial Syrien and their growing economic clout suggest a degree of permanence. Indeed, the Syrian "colony" were one of the groups who petitioned the US to prolong the military occupation. 

President Leconte was especially supportive of discriminatory policy against Syriens in Haiti.

However, resistance to the US Occupation brought with it noirism, Haitian indigenist affirmation of African-derived culture, the salient "color question," and suspicion of groups perceived as pro-US. The Syriens appear to have become targets under Vincent, since Syrian immigration was banned in 1931. Vincent also promoted a return of Haitians to commerce de detail, one of the things Surprise Jazz's ochan for the president in 1936 praised him for accomplishing. Yet by the 1940s, some Syriens, like Bouez, were able to amass fortunes under Lescot, which likely explains why Levantines were targeted by some of the leftists and radicals in 1946. Undoubtedly, some Syrien families, like their counterparts among the Haitian bourgeoisie and other foreign residents, were corrupt and venal, but political corruption, graft, bribery, and violence were never restricted to Haitians of Arab origin. Of course, for some Haitian leftists critical of the anti-national bourgeoisie, or others eager to find a scapegoat, Levantines were the perfect group to blame for the ills of modern Haiti. 

Ironically, only under Duvalier were Syriens to enter politics as officials. Under Francois Duvalier, a Haitiano-Arabe Club was founded, albeit from above and perhaps not representative of Syriens in any form. Indeed, Nicholls found in his interviews that Syriens who entered politics under Duvalier were the exception. Considering their undeniable economic clout by this time, many were likely used by Duvalier for sources of funds and a few opportunistic ones had no qualms with serving him. Later, by the 1970s, the rise of sweatshops also led to some Levantines founding factories in the 1970s and 1980s, under Jean-Claude Duvalier. But, like others, the Syriens were also targeted by Duvalierist violence, as the case of Issa El Saieh's imprisonment demonstrates. As a group with business interests, they may have preferred a Dejoie over Duvalier, but the stability of the dictatorship may have won some of them over. 

A beautiful song named after the Boutilliers restaurant of Elias Noustas. 

So, what was the impact of the Syro-Libanais in Haiti? After providing a brief sketch above of their history in Haiti, it is clearly tied to commerce, shifting geopolitics of the US in the Caribbean region, and Haitian economic dependency. As an unfamiliar "Oriental" group of the early 1900s, they sparked considerable discontent upon their arrival in a country whose local retailers and merchants were experiencing a decline from Europeans who gradually gained the upper hand. As illustrated by scholars like Michel Rolph-Trouillot, Haiti's economy had long been dominated by foreigners. After 1915, however, instead of French or German domination, the US, particularly through earlier Syrien intermediaries, became the clear hegemonic force. The question of Syriens is also intimately tied to the question of Haitian national identity. As they are neither European nor are they (usually) of African descent, Levantines were an "Other" whose assimilation (or non-assimilation) may reveal something of significance in Haitian national identity. 

The visit of Habib Estefano to Haiti in the 1920s may indicate how Syriens saw themselves in relation to Latin America and the broader Syro-Lebanese diaspora. 

That someone of Levantine descent, like Issa El Saieh, became such a major figure in mid-20th century Haitian music, while also openly embracing elements of popular culture, folklore and Vodou in his band, suggests a great degree of assimilation. Certainly, Issa El Saieh himself, who preferred to speak Creole and English over French (which he associated with the "mulatto" elite), knew of his insider-outsider status. His prominence in Haitian arts is also worth mentioning, as he supported a number of Haitian painters while selling their works through his gallery. Another example, Habib the Syrian in Alexis's In the Flicker of an Eyelid, is ambiguous politically. One does not know who he will support, but like the other Haitian social classes, he has a presence in the Port-au-Prince brothel. Habib is undeniably Haitian, but what kind of Haitian? If one subscribes to the Leyburn thesis, perhaps the Syrien is just an outsider to the Haitian color-caste hierarchy. But the complexity, nuance, and fluid social relations, one which likely assisted the Levantines in their social ascent, makes this less plausible. Particularly under the Duvalier dictatorship and later periods, a degree of intermarriage, business interests, and political goals unite Syriens with their black or "mulatto" peers of similar status or wealth.

Arab and Seljuq Conquests

Another undergraduate class writing assignment...I'm embarrassed by this stuff but might as well...

Parallels in the Arab and Seljuq Conquests

            Both the Arab conquerors and Seljuq Turks were nomadic peoples who established states controlling agrarian populations in the Middle East. Since both groups originated among populations without centralized states, which includes bureaucracies, standing armies, and large urban centers, the process chosen by Arabs and Turks to build states reveals how pastoralist nomads played an essential role in new forms of state formation. For both conquering peoples, adoption of local customs, the incorporation of religion for moral legitimacy, and alliances with urban elites and the landed aristocracy were necessary to establish enduring states, as well as dependency to a certain degree on slave soldiers, or mamluks. However, the states established by the Arabs and Seljuqs were often short-lived, especially the Seljuq Sultanate, but the institutions of the state were upheld by successor states throughout the Middle East for centuries.

            The Seljuqs, Turkic-speaking nomads from Central Asia, left the steppes in the early 11^th century as war bands. Around 1025, the Seljuqs acted as military guardians of Khurasan for the Ghaznavids, a state established by mamluks in Afghanistan. From their humble beginnings as steppe warriors for the Ghaznavids, they defeated them after a 15 year guerrilla war to establish their own state. With their own territory, Khurasan, the Seljuqs used their religious identity as Sunnis who would save the powerless Abbasid caliphs in Baghdad to rally support from Central Asian pastoralists and local peoples of Iraq, Iran, and Khurasan. After taking Baghdad in 1055, they struck a deal with the Abbasid caliph, who still had some legitimacy to the Sunnis opposed to the Fatimid Shia in Egypt. This agreement included the caliph recognizing the Seljuq leadership as legitimate politically while relinquishing all political power himself, thereby creating a special title of sultan for the Seljuqs and keeping only nominal power.

This aforementioned deal, mutually beneficial to the Abbasid caliphs and Seljuqs eager for political legitimacy in the region, only came about through active Seljuq courting of the ulama in the cities. Without instituting state policies that supported Islamic learning through the establishment of madrasas, places of learning, and waqfs, or charitable foundations from Seljuq elites for the ulama or other needs, the ulama would not have given the additional support for religious and political legitimacy. Indeed, by the 11^th century, the ulama and specifically, the qadi, had attained enough influence and power that their support must have been sought by any state wanting legitimacy. The state support of the ulama led to an enduring political system through which religion and the state were irreparably tied in urban areas, as well as in terms of land distribution through the iqta, or redistribution of land to military commanders. These aspects of the Seljuq sultanate would live on in later dynasties and successor states, such as the Mamluk sultanate in Egypt, a state founded by military slaves themselves.

Unfortunately for the Seljuq dynasty, the pastoralist traditions of leadership, such as the primus inter pares ideal and decentralized leadership, led to no stable system of succession. By the third generation, feuds within the ruling house of the dynasty caused political fragmentation as the empire was carved into successor states. These newer states maintained the same institutions, however, regarding slave soldiers, waqfs, the iqta, and courting the favor of the ulama. The pastoralist, decentralized lifestyle and system of inheritance prevented the ruling house from maintaining a centralized empire, but the institutions fostered under this dynasty persisted under small Seljuq states that were expanding across Anatolia after the battle of Manzikert in 1071 and other regions of the Islamic world.

The Arab pastoralists who conquered the Middle East after the death of the prophet Muhammad in the 7^th century also developed new institutions to maintain a centralized political system. While the Seljuqs worked through the ulama, the Arab conquerors relied on their status as Muslims to unify warring Arab factions and differentiate themselves from the conquered dhimmis, or non-Muslims. Arab rulers did not encourage conversion to Islam, which provided them a constant source of revenue through the jizya tax. The diwan and the military garrisons also established ways to transcend tribal divisions by distributing wealth to Arab soldiers and, for some time under the Umayyad dynasty, separated the Arab elite from the conquered peoples.

This gradual assimilation of Arabs into the society of the conquered peoples went both ways, with fusion of pre-existing philosophy, architecture, art, and music from both the Arab tribes and the conquered peoples of North Africa and the Middle East. Indeed, this vast cultural complex developed into something one can only call Islamic because of its cosmopolitan nature and high degree of cultural miscegenation. While adopting cultural practices of the conquered peoples, the Ummayad rulers maintained their separate Arab identity through patronage of poetry that romanticized desert life and their nomadic past. Subsequent Arab dynasties would also maintain a separate Arab identity rooted in Islam and common ancestry, such as the Abbasid caliphate in Baghdad’s claim to legitimate rule from their descent from al-Abbas, an uncle of the prophet Muhammad.

Moreover, the Umayyad and Abbasid caliphates also adopted political ideology of the conquered peoples. The Abbasids, for instance, appropriated Persian imperial symbolism and ideology after the conquest of Iran and the collapse of the Sassanians during the initial Arab conquest. The first Arabs to adopt Persian imperial ceremonies were actually Arab governors in Kufa and Basra, who likely adopted these practices to stabilize Arab military rule over the conquered peoples of Iran and Iraq. The caliph also came to resemble more and more an emperor because of the custom of isolating him, thereby elevating the position and inculcating a sense of awe. Furthermore, the Abbasids built their capital Baghdad near Ctesiphon, the former imperial capital of the Sassanian state, clearly to assert their imperial legacy and tradition to legitimize their rule. Baghdad was also planned as a circle, another political symbol asserting imperial perfection for their subjects. In addition, the construction of monumental architecture such as excessively extravagant palaces, mosques, or the Abbasid imperial capital in Samarra all indicate clear political symbols of the power of the caliphate. Instead of deriving their power solely from moral claims, the Abbasid caliphate increasingly became just another empire in a region with a long history of imperial ideology and symbolism embedded in court rituals, architecture, and displays of power.

Another way pastoralist-descended Arabs built enduring states was tolerance and incorporation of non-Muslims into the political system and the creation of a core bureaucracy. Christians and Jews, for example, were taxed through the jizya, but their religious leaders became their mediators between the Arab state and themselves. For instance, Arab ruling elites worked through Jewish community leaders in Fatimid Cairo such as the Gaon to keep the political machine functioning. Christian and Jews were also allowed to participate in the state itself, as bureaucrats, advisors, and agents of the state, which ensured that Arab Muslim dynasties were not solely unjust despots imposing their rule on servile populations. The Fatimids, as a Shia dynasty in a sea of Sunni Islam, best exemplify this tolerance and willingness to employ non-Arabs in service to a centralized state apparatus. The ulama naturally played a significant role in Arab dynasties as well, but, in the case of the Abbasids, usually outside of the caliph’s court because of its decadent and immoral entertainment. The importance of religious identity among people cannot be neglected, since Muslims began to see themselves as a pious community, or ummah, led by the ulama, during this period.

A contrasting case to both the Seljuqs and Arabs, the Mongols, illustrate one extreme direction pastoralist nomads took in administering conquered agrarian peoples. Their rise in the 13^th century under Temujin depended on extreme violence in the form of massacres, uniting all Mongols under his army, and adopting military innovations to conquer most of Eurasia. Temujin’s success in uniting Mongol tribes under one army, however, did not lead to a permanent, centralized state spanning across Eurasia from northern China to the Middle East, however. Their pastoralist ways, internal divisions, and political fragmentation was inevitable as the empire broke into separate khanates across Eurasia that assimilated into the conquered societies. Thus, unlike the Seljuqs and Arab pastoralists, the extreme violence but assimilationist policies of Mongol conquerors led to a multitude of short-lived states across a vast territory impossible to centralize. The Seljuqs and Arab nomads had pre-existing, centuries-old traditions of political centralization and religious institutions to manipulate that allowed their states in the Middle East to last longer and leave new political innovations, such as mamluks.

Therefore, state formation among pastoral nomads in the Middle East reveals how these decentralized peoples constructed states using religion, cooperation and cooptation of local peoples, embracing pluralistic societies, and adopting cultural and political systems already present among conquered peoples. With the aforementioned approaches, the Arab and Seljuq elite were able to establish a political framework for future states, even if their own collapsed within a few generations. The Seljuqs perhaps best exemplify this, since the decentralized nature of the steppe continued to hinder full centralization under the ruling sultan. The Mongol empire, which on the other hand also adopted local practices of conquered peoples, could not survive since their empire was too expansive and because of an absence of political legitimacy beyond fear instilled in subject peoples due to their massacres. The Mongols lacked a clear religious or political claim to legitimacy that would unite all under a single banner, and they left little new developments in state formation.

Black Man in Byzantine Israel

A fascinating image of a black man from a mosaic in Byzantine Palestine. Since I rarely come across images of 'blacks' in the art of the Byzantine world, this image I found from this wondrous site was quite exhilarating. If this man is really leading a giraffe, it indicates how African animals were still common in that part of the world. 

Jewry of Medieval Cairo

The Jewry of Cairo

The Jewish community was very integrated culturally, politically and economically into the larger society of Egypt. The Jewish residents of the cosmopolitan city fared better under Islamic rule than anywhere in Christian Europe. Indeed, their integration into Egyptian society indicates the degree of heterogeneity and diversity in Egyptian society. The simple fact that Jews enjoyed rights and privileges in addition to tolerance in Muslim Egypt, as demonstrated by the Geniza papers, also counters the myth of Muslim intolerance and oppression of dhimmis, or non-Muslims. In fact, Jews generally lived under much worse conditions in Christian Europe during the medieval period since there were few legal protections, combined with a theologically driven anti-Semitism that led to ghettoization, collective violence as retribution, and general hostility. Jews in Islamic lands, such as Egypt, however, enjoyed special protections under Islamic law that allowed freedom to worship, maintain their own community institutions, greater economic opportunities, and no ghettoization. Nevertheless, Jews were still a minority group in a Muslim-dominated social hierarchy, and were never completely free from repression or discriminatory practices, a product of the Pact of ‘Umar.

 Culturally, Jewish Egyptians were far more integrated into Egyptian society than their counterparts in Europe. Jewish and Muslim dietary laws, for instance, converged in multiple instances, especially regarding consumption of pork. Jewish halakha and sharia law also have parallels, offering evidence of additional similar cultural and religious practices that eased socializing between Muslims and Jews.[1] In addition, interreligious marriage between Muslim men and Jewish women faced no opposition.[2] No evidence of Sunnii Muslims believing in contamination from contact or socializing with Jews appears, either, which has further support by the mixed character of residential areas. In fact, Jews and Muslims could own property together, and the Jewish community of Cairo was not separated from the rest of the city, but spread across in different clusters. [3] The Geniza also show that the Jewish population lived in neighborhoods where at least half of the houses had Gentile neighbors.[4] Thus, Jews and Muslims lived side by side, could intermarry, owned property and businesses in partnerships, practiced similar dietary laws, and interacted with each other socially in the marketplace, in administrative positions, and in hospitals.

Furthermore, Jews adopted cultural and social practices of the broader Muslim society, such as the Arabic language and script, and the position of the qadi within Islamic society became a model for judges in the Jewish community.[5] Due to the influence of Islam, Jewish judges were increasingly expected to perform similar roles of administering and managing funds connected with social services to the community, such as taking care of orphans, widows, the poor and sick, foreigners and captives.[6] In addition, despite occasional attempts to enforce a distinctive dress code for Jews and other non-Muslims, it was rarely enforced and Jews and Muslims were indistinguishable by their attire during the Fatimid and early Ayyubid dynasties.[7] Unfortunately, there were periods where the imposition of dress restrictions on dhimmis, meant to perpetuate a distinction between Muslims and non-Muslims, was enforced, such as during the reign of the mad Fatimid caliph, al-Hakim, considered insane and cruel by all Muslim historians. This particular Fatimid caliph, ruling from 996–1021, required Christians and Jews to wear distinctive belts and badges.[8] This one extreme case of persecution against Jews and Christians also included requiring Jews to wear an image of the golden calf worshipped by the Israelites in Exodus and Christians an image of the cross in public baths.[9] Still, most Muslims considered these persecutions aberrations, and in the aftermath of these persecutions, dhimmis forced into conversion were allowed to convert to their previous faiths.[10]

Despite being quite integrated into overall Egyptian society, Jews were often pressured into expressing their religious faith behind closed doors. Funeral processions, for example were often difficult since public displays of the Jewish faith contradicted a regulation in the Pact of ‘Umar, which aimed to limit displays of faiths besides Islam.[11] They also had to be sure that new synagogues would not surpass surrounding mosques in height lest they arouse the fanaticism of some of the Muslims, another burden on their freedom of religious and cultural expression because the synagogue was the center of the Jewish community.[12] The Jewish community also did not practice the seclusion of women, so that aspect of cultural identity among Cairo’s Jewry was absent within their own community, although they were also patriarchal and male-dominated. Still, like Muslim women, Jewish women had to worship in a separate compartment in the house of worship.[13]  

            On the political level, Cairo’s Jewish community was relatively integrated into the state apparatus. Like other non-Muslim communities, the Muslim rulers allowed a certain amount of autonomy, often working through religious leaders within the Jewish communities to collect taxes and administer the law. This practice was instituted in Egypt through the position of the Gaon, or head of the yeshiva, which had judicial and administrative authority over the Jewish community.[14] The Muslim state also reserved the right to confirm his office, ruling through the Gaon and the Nagid, a Hebrew title for the ‘head of the Jews.’[15] The Nagid was expected to address complaints by Jews about government oppression, expected to act against rapacious officials either by intervention through the central government or by talking things over with local authorities on the occasion of a visit, essentially representing the power of the Muslim state through the religious institutions of Jewish life, the synagogue and yeshiva.[16] The elders and notables of the Jewish community also participated in the political system by issuing and receiving letters on behalf of the state, promulgating statutes, and signed contracts, sometimes alone or in conjunction with the muqaddam, an appointed executive.[17] The muqaddam also played an essential role in the political system, appointed with the consent of the community by the Jewish central leaders and accredited by local representatives of the government.[18] The aforementioned judges, whose role in the Jewish community by the middle of the 12^th century began to resemble that of the Muslim qadi, also participated in this system as intermediaries between the Muslim state and Jewish subjects.[19]

            The Jewish community of Cairo was also given positions in the state beyond that of representing their religious group. For example, the sofer, or Jewish scribes and copyists, served the Fatimids as court scribes.[20] Jewish physicians also served in the Fatimid court, such as Moses b. Elazar, who became an influential person in the court of caliph al-Mu’izz in the 10^th century.[21] Other physicians with political power include Samuel b. Hananya, who became a leader in the Jewish community in the middle 12^th century.[22]  Indeed, the Shiite Fatimids were well-known for condoning dhimmi participation in state service, partly due to the simple fact that the dynasty was Shiite in a sea of Sunni Islam and therefore eager to find loyal administrators.[23] With that consideration, the rise of Jewish merchant Ibn Killis, an Muslim convert, in the financial administration of the Fatimids in the late 10^th century, or the Tustari family, no longer surprises.[24] The Jewish vizier, Abu S’ad, who reached the pinnacle of his power during the regency of the mother of caliph al-Mustansir, provides another example of Muslims serving in the highest positions within the Fatimid caliphate.[25] The presence of Jews at the highest positions in the Muslim world indubitably illustrates the degree of integration Jews reached under Islam.

Unfortunately, Jews and other dhimmis were excluded from state service in the 9^th century by the decree of Abbasid caliph al-Mutawakkil, but the decree was only sporadically enforced during Abbasid rule.[26] The simple fact that Jews and Christians were found in all urban centers of the Islamic world made them inevitably tied to the political system in some way, even if only a few Jews rose to top administrative positions. Still, the Pact of ‘Umar, the aforementioned bilateral contract between Muslims and dhimmis in which dhimmis agree to discriminatory regulations, such as the jizya, or poll tax, in exchange for tolerance and protection, obviously did not exclude Jews from participating in political circles.[27] The legal system also treated Jewish subjects with far more juridical objectivity, not imposing collective punishment on Jews for alleged crimes of individuals, unlike the Latin West where pogroms and collective punishment were common.[28] However, the jizya tax was a heavy burden on non-Muslim populations, especially since if they did not receive a receipt, they could be charged again.[29]

            On the economic front, Jews were also well integrated into Egyptian society. As mentioned previously, Jews and Muslims owned property together and were business partners, something impossible in the contemporary West.[30] Jews were also present in the economy at several different levels and types of employment, not solely moneylenders. Jews were broadly distributed across all sectors of economy, with some owning land and raising crops in arable Egypt while others were also involved in dyeing, metalware, cheese, sugar manufacture, and various other sectors of the economy.[31] Jews were present at ports, served as police and engaged in tax-farming.[32] The control of mints was also Jewish-dominated in most Muslim states.[33] Thus, Jews were wholly integrated in broad array of economic activities in the Islamic world, and often traveled abroad to engage in international trade with Muslim partners in addition to engaging in intra-Jewish trade and economic exchanges across the Dar al-Islam.

  Uniquely, Jewish moneylending was largely within the Jewish community in the Islamic world, unlike Jewish moneylenders loaning to strapped rChristians in medieval Europe.[34] The Christian theological claim against usury and the pursuit of material wealth contradicted Islam’s pro-trade stance, which encouraged the pursuit of material wealth, trade, and business, thereby sparing Jews of ridicule and violence for engaging in usury or business.[35] Medieval Islam did not portray the Jew or Christian as collaborating with Satan to undermine society, which Jews were perceived to do in Christian Europe for practicing usury.[36] As a result, shared judgment of Muslim and Jewish legal experts regarding the necessity for flexible response to the law of the merchants developed alongside congruence in economic practice generally.[37] Nevertheless, Jewish merchants often signed contracts before Muslim and Jewish authorities concurrently.[38] In addition to engaging in business transactions on an international level, Jewish merchants of Cairo were active in all the bazaars, marketplaces, and squares, not exclusively the Lane of Jews, which only housed a fraction of Cairo’s Jewish residents.[39]

The degree of Jewish assimilation into Muslim Egypt during the medieval period contradicts standard depictions of Islam and Arabs as intolerant. Participating in every economic sector, working as viziers, administrators, and community representatives for the Jewish minority and the Muslim state, or adopting elements of Islamic culture demonstrate the high degree of cultural miscegenation in the pluralistic societies of the Islamic world. This degree of cultural heterogeneity hardly surprises when on takes into account Egypt’s large Coptic population in the medieval period, as well as the general cosmopolitan character of Cairo and the Nile Delta throughout history, since it is the meeting ground for Asia, Africa, and Europe. The high degree of Jewish assimilation and tolerance in Fatimid Egypt, for example, stands true for the Coptic communities and other Christian sects in the region. Naturally, this relative tolerance and acceptance of dhimmis in the Muslim world was far from a Golden Age of interfaith solidarity, since they were required to pay taxes and did at times face persecution or special impositions regarding dress and displays of religion. The centuries proceeding Fatimid and early Ayyubid rule in Egypt also show that the inclusion of non-Muslims in positions of authority and other special privileges could be revoked by intolerant rulers. Regardless of what dynasty ruled in Cairo, however, the Jewish population enjoyed far more protection and inclusion within broader society than their counterparts in Christian Europe enjoyed until the arrival of industrial nation-states.

---

[1] Cohen 27

[2] Ibid 64.

[3] Ibid 126

[4] Gotein 290.

[5] Ibid 216

[6] Ibid.

[7] Cohen 64.

[8] Ibid 165.

[9] Ibid 74.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Ibid 60.

[12] Gotein 144.

[13] Ibid 215.

[14] Ibid 5.

[15] Ibid 23.

[16] Ibid 37.

[17] Ibid 60.

[18] Ibid 68.

[19] Ibid 216.

[20] Ibid 229.

[21] Ibid 243.

[22] Ibid 244.

[23] Cohen 67.

[24] Ibid 92.

[25] Ibid.

[26] Ibid 66.

[27] Ibid 54.

[28] Ibid 74.

[29] Ibid 67.

[30] Ibid 126.

[31] Ibid 99.

[32] Gotein 362, 379.

[33] Cohen 375.

[34] Ibid 98.

[35] Ibid 89.

[36] Ibid 173.

[37] Ibid 94.

[38] Gotein 400.

[39] Ibid 291.