Early Medieval Jewish Policy in Western Europe
Bernard Bachrach
University of Minnesota Press, 1977 (Available online at Archive.org)
2910 Words
The term “lachrymose” should be in the lexicon of all modern dissidents. According the first entry in my 1984 Webster’s II dictionary, it means, “Weeping, or given to weeping: tearful.” This term gained prominence regarding the Jewish Question in the late 1920s when historian Salo Baron coined the “lachrymose theory” of Jewish history, which describes “the eternal self-pity characteristic of Jewish historiography.” Such an approach, as many of us know, amounts to dishonestly politicizing history by exaggerating both the innocence and suffering of Jews as well the power and malevolence of White gentiles. The point, of course, is not to increase our knowledge of days gone by but to cynically promote the ethnic interests of Jews in the here and now.
Bernard Bachrach successfully challenges this mindset in his brief 1977 volume Early Medieval Jewish Policy in Western Europe, wherein he demonstrates how the lachrymose approach falls short when held against historical data. In his preface, he writes:
Such treatments of early medieval Jewish policy have generally been presented in conjunction with a view of barbarian Europe that depicts Christian secular rulers as powerful and religiously oriented, the Church as the dominant institution in society with immense influence over the political process, and the Jews as very few in number, powerless, and easily victimized though innocent. This picture of strong monarchs, a powerful church, and an insignificant Jewry, however, does not fit the evidence for early medieval conditions.
Although the work is technically one of history, really it is a reflection on historiography and, if writ large, a repudiation of the infusion of politics into the study of Jewish history. In his notes, Bachrach mentions how Jewish scholars had attacked Baron’s lachrymose theory “for providing ammunition with which the anti-Semites can attack Jews.” Thankfully, Bachrach places himself above such concerns (regardless of his personal sympathies). The result is both useful and interesting since in most cases when kings or Church magnates acted against Jews, they were in fact being reasonable.
Bachrach begins with the Visigoths, who were the post-Roman Germanic rulers of the Iberian Peninsula. Their Jewish-policy baseline sprang from the old Roman law which established that Jews were to be . . .
- left alone to practice their religion
- given judicial autonomy within their communities
- prohibited from holding public office wherein they could inflict punishment on Christians
- prohibited from converting non-Jews to Judaism
- prohibited from owning Christian slaves
Yet, as Bachrach mentions repeatedly, just because a law was on the books does not mean that it was respected or enforced. King Theodoric the Great, the Ostrogoth who reigned over the Visigoths during the early sixth century, for example, had ignored many of the laws which limited Jewish activity. The Visigothic monarch Reccared I, who reigned a half-century later, has been considered anti-Jewish since he decreed that children of Jewish and Christian parents be baptized. Some modern scholars viewed this as forced conversion. Bachrach, on the other hand, reveals that the Visigothic Jews themselves would not have objected to this given that, according to Jewish law at the time, a Jewish woman married to a non-Jew deserved to be stoned to death and that a child born of a Jewish father and non-Jewish mother wasn’t even a Jew. Bachrach exonerates not only Reccared but also the Church leaders for being “concerned about the spiritual and material well-being” of such children. Further, Reccared removed the death penalty for Jews who proselytize and even ignored a missive from Pope Gregory I, which entreated him to punish Jews who were illegally dealing in Christian slaves in Narbonne.
In Visigothic Spain a rough pattern then emerges over the next two centuries:
- Jews are given wide freedom by pro-Jewish kings, which they then abuse, typically through bribery, proselytization, dealing in Christian slaves, and forcibly circumcising them.
- In response, anti-Jewish kings replace the pro-Jewish ones (often with the support of the Church) and enact laws meant to protect Christians and Christianity from Jews.
- Jews do not like this, and subsequently lend their financial and military influence to viable enemies of the crown until the anti-Jewish king is deposed or dead.
- Rinse and repeat.
This is a good early medieval example of Jewish aggressiveness against the host society and willingness to exploit non-Jews.
Sisebut in 612 was the first of these supposedly anti-Jewish kings. He reversed many of Reccared’s pro-Jewish policies and attempted to enforce the extant laws about Jews owning and converting Christian slaves. Later in his reign he offered the Jews of Spain an ultimatum, conversion or exile—something that even the anti-Jewish Church officials opposed. This may sound harsh to modern ears, but Bachrach shoots down any interpretations that Sisebut was acting out of greed, fanaticism, or malice. Simply put, the Jews of Spain had opposed Sisebut’s ascension to the throne, and he was understandably trying to hamstring their political influence in response. In any event, his anti-Jewish decrees went largely ignored.
Things then ping-pong between pro- and anti-Jewish monarchs over the following decades. One pro-Jewish king, Chindasuinth was in fact much harder on his fellow Christians than he was on his Jewish subjects. After Chindasuinth’s successor Reccesuinth reinstated Sisebut’s anti-Jewish legislation, Reccesuinth’s successor Wamba had to crush a Jewish revolt in Narbonne. Wamba then banished all Jews from the city. Yet, as with most anti-Jewish actions in Visigothic Spain, it didn’t last.
Wamba, however, was not a religious fanatic, and his appreciation of the power of the Jewish community apparently led him to a rapprochement with them. The Jews of Narbonne were allowed to return to their city where for a long time they continued to be a dominant force. Wamba, in addition, did not enforce the existing anti-Jewish laws, and at the councils which met during his reign the Jewish question was not discussed.
Bachrach also states bluntly that “as late as 694 Jews still owned Christian slaves and carried on business as usual.” This was during the reign of Egica, who also tried to weaken the economic base of the Jews in order to rid his political enemies of their financial strength. He went to so far as to order that all Jews in his kingdom “be stripped of their property and be made slaves.” As in the past, such legislation was an abject failure because most of the leadership in Visigothic Spain was either openly tolerant of Jews or susceptible to their bribes. Still, Bachrach shockingly defends Egica’s decision as rational since the Jews had indeed schemed against him:
Had not refugae sought foreign aid to help rebel causes throughout much of the seventh century? Had not the Jews actively participated in military operations against Wamba? Were not Jews sufficiently disadvantaged as a result of Egica’s politics that would benefit by opposing him actively?
Historian Edward Thompson defines refugae as “men who went to foreign powers with a view to launching attacks on Spain from abroad.” Thus, it can be inferred from Bachrach’s text that many of these traitorous individuals were in fact exiled Jews. This becomes an important point in the early eighth century when, as Egica’s grandson Achila in the north, the upstart Visigothic king Roderic in the south, the Byzantines, and the Arab Muslims were all vying for control of the Iberian Peninsula. In the ensuing chaos the Spanish Jews repaid the Goths for two centuries of prosperity, freedom, and tolerance by allying with the Muslims and seizing a number of cities in Spain—and prospering thereafter.
Although Bachrach does not state this explicitly, it seems that the Visigoths would have benefited greatly had they actually followed through on the anti-Jewish legislation with which scholars of the lachrymose tradition so keenly besmirch them.
In Early Medieval Jewish Policy in Western Europe, Bernard Bachrach saves the best for first, with the remainder of his treatise lacking much of the punch and parry found in his chapter on the Visigoths. This is not Bachrach’s fault since the history itself is not quite as compelling vis-à-vis Jews. Basically, the Ostrogoths, the Byzantines, the Merovingians, and the Carolingians were pro-Jewish and rarely wavered from that. These Europeans also ignored the mildly anti-Jewish Roman laws as well as pressure from Church magnates to penalize Jews when proselytizing or abusing the flock. From the sixth to the ninth centuries, the Jews of Western and Southern Europe enjoyed a golden age of tolerance and prosperity.
Indeed, in an earlier work Bachrach suggests that the Jews were so wealthy, powerful, and aggressive that until around the middle of the fifth century the government viewed a strong anti-Jewish policy as not politically viable, even though it was continually being pressured in this direction by the Church.[1] The rather limited anti-Jewish actions of the government during the 150 years following the Edict of Toleration of 313 are interpreted “as attempts to protect Christians from a vigorous, powerful, and often aggressive Jewish gens” (408). The Jews themselves were perceived by the emperors, the government, and the Church fathers as “an aggressive, well-organized, wealthy, and powerful minority” (p. 408). Particularly revealing are the suggestion that the solvency of the municipalities depended on Jews paying their taxes and the fear that offending the Jews could set off widespread and costly revolts, such as the one led by Patricius in 351.
Of the early-sixth-century Ostrogothic monarch Theodoric, Bachrach writes:
It seems, however, that Theodoric pursued a clearly defined pro-Jewish policy that called for the recognition and enforcement of their privilegia. At the same time he managed to ignore old imperial legislation the restricted the activities of Jews. Those who harmed Jews were effectively and severely punished; alleged or potential Jewish wrongdoing was investigated, admonished, and even threatened with “royal displeasure”; but at no time is there evidence of punishments having been meted out or of anti-Jewish laws having been enforced.
Bachrach points out that the Jews of Italy at the time provided many educated men for public service as well an even greater number of armed fighting men loyal to the crown. So why wouldn’t Theodoric want to pursue pro-Jewish policies? In the late sixth century, Pope Gregory I also had a hand in protecting Jewish interests, especially when he made allowances for Jewish slave traders who may have “accidentally” found themselves owning Christian slaves. Despite Gregory’s professed “horror and loathing” of Jews, he continually relied upon the relatively lenient Theodosian Code rather than the stricter Justinian Code when dealing with Jewish matters.
Compared to such a standard, the medieval leaders whom the lachrymose school considers anti-Jewish really weren’t. For example, the Byzantine emperor Justinian did confiscate synagogues in North Africa in 535, but this was in response to North African Jews having supported the Vandals in their war against the Byzantine Empire. Another historical hiccup can be found in how Byzantine emperor Heraclitus decreed in 632 that Jews convert to Christianity. Bachrach reveals that this was merely a stratagem to entice potentially disloyal Byzantine Jews to support the Empire’s wars against the Persians and Muslims. As it turned out, the Jews called the emperor’s bluff and refused their support, and Heraclitus still did not enforce the decree. Byzantine Jews later repaid their emperor’s tolerance by rioting in Constantinople in 641 and attacking the Hagia Sophia in 661.
Then, of course, there was the famously pro-Jewish king Charlemagne who did everything he could to promote Jewish mercantile and scholarly activity. In particular, he encouraged the Jewish group known as the Radanites to trade far and wide across Europe, the Muslims world, and beyond. Bachrach even speculates that it is partially because of Charlemagne that Jews became so dominant in international trade to begin with. Despite this beneficence, however, Jews still found ways to abuse the system. For example, they forced Charlemagne to ban Jewish mint masters from operating out of their homes so to cut down on fraud. He also had to prohibit Jewish moneylenders from accepting “the persons of free Christians” as collateral.
As for controlling his kingdom’s economy, Charlemagne
emphasized the importance of the local market where his officials could oversee weights and measures, collect taxes, and monitor prices. Some Jews in the Carolingian realm seemed to have found it more profitable to do business from their homes away from the government’s watchful eye. Charlemagne therefore issued an administrative order forbidding Jews from storing commodities intended for sale such as grain and wine in their homes and thus hoped to stop business from being done outside of the market place.
Bachrach often makes the point that many of the acts of monarchs deemed by lachrymose scholars as anti-Jewish were in fact either sheer bluffs, toothless edicts, retributive fair play, or rational responses to Jewish malfeasance. Charlemagne’s actions above are a great example of this last type of behavior.
The most persistent opponents (I hesitate to use the term “enemy”) of the Jews during the early Medieval period were the Church magnates. They were naturally most concerned about Jewish intermarriage and proselytization as well as the continued Jewish practice of owning and circumcising—thereby converting—Christian slaves. Since Church leaders, at least on paper, had little to gain from the economic benefits that unfettered Jewish activity brought to the table, they were quick to rail against the gross injustices associated with this activity. Of the Carolingian times, Bachrach writes (emphasis mine):
Thus there are contemporary reports that Jews purchased Christian slaves from Christian owners and sold the former to the Muslims in Spain. Jews also apparently castrated some slaves especially for the foreign market and even kidnapped Christian youths for sale abroad.
The growing Jewish trade in pagan Slavs was also a problem. Obnoxious behavior such as Jews entering convents to have “secret dealings” with nuns further offended the ecclesiastics.
Incidentally, in his Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World: Attitudes and Interactions from Alexander to Justinian (Princeton University Press, 1993), Louis Feldman points out that the circumcision of slaves well into the sixth century was a Jewish religious law at least partly for ritual reasons (circumcision enabled slaves to perform their duties, such as handling food, in a manner consistent with Jewish religious law) but undergoing this procedure did not mean that the slaves had been converted to Judaism. Like Bachrach, Feldman also emphasizes Jewish wealth and prosperity and their alliances with wealthy, powerful non-Jews.
The strongest and most notable anti-Jewish Church presence during this period was Bishop Agobard of Lyons (see also Andrew Joyce’s “Agobard of Lyon and The Origins of the Hostile Elite”). During the reign of Charlemagne’s son Louis in the early ninth century, Agobard actively campaigned against Jewish criminal excesses and constantly pressured the crown to enforce the anti-Jewish laws which had been on the books since Roman times. Further, he promoted a general segregation of Jews and gentiles and strongly opposed the ongoing Judaization of Western Europe. If Agobard had his way, Christians would be banned from purchasing wine and meat processed by Jews. Clearly, all of this would have severely limited Jewish economic strength in the nascent Holy Roman Empire, and was something that Louis—who was even more pro-Jewish than his father—would not have allowed.
Things came to a head around 822 when Agobard and a Jewish slaveowner faced each other in imperial court. Essentially, Agobard had absconded with one of the Jew’s slaves, a former pagan who had been converted to Judaism (willingly or not, Bachrach does not say) and later baptized by Agobard. The judge found in favor of the slaveowner, and Louis added insult to injury by peremptorily dismissing Agobard from the court. Bachrach then rationalizes Agobard’s actions and essentially asks the reader to sympathize with him rather than with the king, the court, or the Jews. After mentioning how various supporters of Agobard had to go into hiding or were punished by imperial officials after the trial, Bachrach writes:
He [Agobard] seems to have believed, and he was correct, that compromise with the militant, aggressive, and powerful Jews of Lyonnais would have meant defeat for the Church. As a religious churchman deeply committed to the spiritual health of his flock he had little choice in his course of action; he fought and lost.
That the greatest anti-Jewish advocate of the era met with total defeat is a powerful blow against the lachrymose school of Jewish historiography. Bachrach makes this point several times throughout his volume, and he is quite convincing. He also makes plain that such an approach not only selectively remembers anti-Jewish actions among gentiles and downplays their pro-Jewish behavior, it also exaggerates the power of monarchs and their willingness to enforce anti-Jewish laws. Bachrach essentially accuses lachrymose scholars of exaggerating Jewish suffering during the early Medieval period in Western Europe.
This then leads us to the next question: if the Jews are exaggerating historical events during this period, what other historical events are they exaggerating? It’s a fair question, and one which exceeds the scope of Bachrach’s study. Nevertheless, Bachrach, to his credit, leaves the door open for its pursuit.
We should remember that Early Medieval Jewish Policy in Western Europe is more a commentary on historiography than a work of history per se. It’s too thin to be otherwise. Readers shouldn’t look to it for many “gotcha” moments whereby Jewish historical sins are revealed and historic anti-Semitism exonerated. Yes, there is some of that, but one would be better served viewing American Krogan’s excellent 6-part video series entitled The Visigoths and the Jews for this sort of thing. For his part, Bachrach remains evenhanded by presenting the positive side of the equation. He often depicts Jewish-Christian interaction as voluntary and mutually beneficial. He’s also quick to point out the good Jews can do, such as in 793 when the Jews of Narbonne—the same place where they had been illegally trading in Christian slaves—defended their city and the Carolingian realm against Muslim invaders.
It gets to the point where we begin to wonder if these are even Jews that Bachrach is writing about. His depictions appear strange compared to the Jews that Europeans have known so well since the Middle Ages. Yes, the vigor, venality, economic proficiency, and internationalism will ring a few bells. But one does not find much zealous proselytizing or military prowess among Jewish diasporas these days. Further, Bachrach makes little mention of usury and almost no mention of economic exploitation or cultural degeneracy. Anything resembling the Jewish revolutionary spirit which caused so much damage in the twentieth century also does not make an appearance. Could it be that such stereotypically Jewish traits were less common back then in that part of the world than they are today? Perhaps one reason why Western European Jews and Christians got along relatively well during this period was because these Jews were somehow genetically different than modern Jews? Bachrach never mentions whether he was writing about the Sephardim or the Ashkenazim. Perhaps the evidence from that period was too murky in 1977 to make such distinctions?
In any event, with Early Medieval Jewish Policy in Western Europe Bernard Bachrach has given us a highly useful work with which to refute the pervasive lachrymose school of Jewish historiography.
[1] Bernard S. Bachrach, “The Jewish community in the Later Roman Empire as seen in the Codex Theodosianus,” in “To See Ourselves as Others See Us”: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late Antiquity, ed. J. Neusner & E. S. Frerichs (Scholars Press).
