In this lecture series exploring the medieval worldview, historian Oleg Voskoboinikov delves into topics such as perspectives on love, family, the role of women in this male-dominated world, and a daily routine often disrupted by war. He investigates how the church viewed family, marriage, and sex. In the last lecture, Oleg Voskoboinikov talks about who was considered an outcast in the Middle Ages and whether tolerance existed then.
I trust you've now observed that this is a society woven together by bonds of kinship, love, friendship, land, and military interdependence. This society, plagued by conflicts, earnestly pursued justice and inner harmony. In its quest for earthly peace, it recognized the need for harmony with the divine realm, and in this pursuit, it inherited an astonishingly potent institution from antiquity—the Church. This institution, unlike many others, has endured for two millennia, defying the forces of mortality and transgression. Just as the Middle Ages perceived the universe as a self-contained cosmos, they envisioned their own world as a confined ecumene: the res publica Christianai
Europe, the Western civilization, also holds, whether knowingly or not, a constellation of coordinates and defining traits that will serve as the foundation for its distant progeny to be reconstructed. As these future generations reshape their understanding of the European worldview and adopt its behavioral customs, they will make comparisons with contemporaries whose resemblance to Europeans is questionable and those whom Europeans, in turn, don't regard as their kin. Viewed through the historical prism of diverse powers, these descendants will initially discern glaring disparities between continents, even among those conversing in a shared language, perhaps a lingua franca like Globish-English. Turning their gaze towards Europe, they will encounter the Italians and Serbs, Albanians and English, Germans and Georgians, Basques and Ukrainians, Russians, and more. A truly rich tapestry of diversity will unfold. In this process, they will realize that political leaders differ considerably from opera singers, and the families embracing large numbers of children contrast sharply with those in same-sex unions. Ultimately, they will comprehend that Western civilization itself, with its intricate coordinates and rules, thrived by continually juxtaposing itself against the other. This civilization evolved against the backdrop of the alien, with varying degrees of tolerance or intolerance, sensitivity to dissenting voices, and the willingness or reluctance to embrace the unfamiliar. Should these future scholars choose to peruse periodicals or fiction from the bygone era of the 2000–2020s, they will discern a persistent endeavor of European civilization to define itself, often at the expense of others.
Every grand civilization inevitably delineates its boundaries, establishes focal points, and encompasses peripheries, even if these divisions aren't marked by barbed wire or visa regulations, which are both foreign to the Middle Ages. Societies are composed of full-fledged members, yet the very notion of equality in rights implies the existence of those who lack such parity. There are those who dwell on the fringes, permanent or temporary outcasts, marginalized figures, and aliens. Among them are alluring yet unpredictable neighbors, whom it's wiser to maintain a certain distance from—much like the Orthodox Eastern Roman Empire, disparagingly called Byzantium, the same as referring to Russia as to Moscovia. Let's delve into the narratives of those who weren't part of the medieval Western world, but without whose influence, this world remains inconceivable.
Heretics and witches
The apostle Paul once proclaimed, ‘For there must also be factions among you, so that those who are approved may become evident among you’ (1 Corinthians 11:19). The term ‘factions’ in the synodical translation originates from the Greek word ‘hairéseis’, from which the familiar concept of ‘heresies’ is derived. He further cautions, ‘A heretical man after a first and second admonition have done with, knowing that such a one is perverted, and sins, being self-condemned’ (Titus 3:10-11). Consequently, the issue of heresy emerged within the realm of Christianity. The paradox of the medieval era, once again, lies in the fact that authority, even the ecclesiastical one, consistently demanded consensus and the unanimity of beliefs. Yet, in its resolute pursuit of agreement, it paradoxically accommodated space for dissenting voices.
Around the year 600, St Isidore of Seville1
The latter half of the twelfth century marked the emergence of new terms. In 1163, Eckbert, a monk from the Benedictine monastery of Schönau, delivered specific sermons against the Cathars. Uttered in German, the word ‘Ketzer,’ derived from the Greek ‘pure’, began to denote any heretic. The Bulgarian Bogomils4
Did the expansion of the lexicon related to persecution and the emergence of new analytical texts indicate the spread of the heretical movement? It undoubtedly did. As Christianization gained depth and momentum, dissent also grew. Communities of individuals who veered away from the common path to salvation began to emerge in specific cities and regions. Some rejected the services of the priesthood, finding them inadequate for their lofty calling, and criticized its wealth, while doubting the efficacy of its rituals. Others claimed to have revived ancient forms of piety, abstained from consuming meat, and adopted the title of apostles. These groups organized themselves, often with a hierarchy forming naturally among them, and conducted baptisms with the Spirit, along with blessing their meals.
Henry II Plantagenet, a key figure in shaping English power, initiated an active pursuit of heretics, introducing the use of heated iron in the Assizes of Clarendon (1166). Frederick II (1220–50), despite being considered one of the most forward-thinking and enlightened medieval monarchs, ironically advanced the principles and practices of the Inquisition5
Nonetheless, a noteworthy trend emerged: the presence of an internal enemy had the capacity to unite the often-disparate forces of both spiritual and secular authorities.i
As the thirteenth century began, the Albigensians, also known as Cathars due to their emphasis on purity, emerged as perhaps the most prominent heretical movement of the Middle Ages. Originating from the southern French city of Albi, they spoke Occitan and garnered support from both minor and major nobility in the prosperous Languedoc region. Establishing their own hierarchy, which directly opposed the established church, they created a divisive schism in the heart of Europe, a division that neither Rome nor Paris could ignore. In response, the pope declared a crusade against the Albigensians, ultimately resulting in their defeat, paving the way for Paris to exert control over the prosperous south. The efforts of the Holy Church extended beyond military actions; preaching was another crucial tool. Those who returned to the fold were called ‘voluntarily humiliated’ (in Latin, ‘humiliati’) and received support. Persecution against the ascetic Waldensians was also somewhat alleviated by the authorities, leading to the continued existence of this movement, albeit on a smaller scale, even in modern times.
However, traditional preaching suffered a significant setback, making room for a more adaptable approach, as seen in the emergence of the mendicant orders, simultaneously founded by Francis of Assisi from Umbria and Dominic Guzmán from Castile. Both of them recognized their calling in revitalizing the evangelical notion of poverty by personally emulating Jesus's earthly journey. They shared the belief that this mission required active engagement in the public sphere rather than confinement within the cloister. Moreover, they understood that their efforts should be aligned with the Church, sanctioned by the papacy, and conducted under the established hierarchy and close connection with the priesthood.
The behavior of Francis and his immediate followers, marked by their unconventional acts, often raised eyebrows and provoked opposition. Their approach occasionally led to conflicts with the surrounding society, pushing some of his associates into self-imposed exile and years of wandering. Despite the unconventional nature of their actions, their commitment to emulating Christ's earthly tribulations resonated with many and drew them back into the fold of orthodoxy. This demonstrated that rather than attributing one's sins and misfortunes solely to external factors or negligent priests, one should focus on self-improvement.
Certain cardinals and bishops within the church found themselves drawn to the fusion of personal piety exhibited by these emerging spiritual leaders and their capacity to draw others into their fold. Recognizing the potential of this movement, they leveraged it to establish a novel tool: the Inquisition. Often perceived as the Holy See's version of a detective agency or a moral police force, the Inquisition is more complex than these portrayals suggest. While it does encompass elements of investigation and enforcement, it also incorporates spiritual and disciplinary dimensions. Both the Franciscan and Dominican orders actively engaged in the implementation of the Inquisition. The Dominicans, in particular, displayed remarkable zeal, integrating the cultivation of education and the art of persuasive preaching into their pedagogical approach. Consequently, they earned the moniker ‘the dogs of the Lord’i
The intellectual framework of scholasticism, which was carefully crafted by the brightest minds of its time to facilitate rational thought, sought to clarify the definitions of particular expressions of dissent and dissidence that justified punitive measures. In the eyes of investigators and prosecutors, a heretic was perceived as a servant of the devil, inherently possessing qualities deemed to deserve eradication and immolation. The resistance exhibited by the accused individual was further construed as evidence of diabolical influence, a force that needed to be vigorously countered in order to extract a confession. The subsequent phenomenon of witch hunts, in the late medieval and Renaissance period, that unfolded during the fifteenth to seventeenth centuries can be traced back to this groundwork. Notably, The Hammer of Witches6
The essence lies in the inherent ambivalence of heresy as both a religious and a Christian life phenomenon. The church found itself compelled to pass judgment, yet its role as an impartial arbiter was undermined by its intrinsic nature. This was due to its responsibility not to the people but for them, and not to them but to a higher divine authority. It perceived itself as a celestial citadel besieged by adversaries, by cunning wolves seeking to lure every stray sheep into damnation.i
Did such a society entertain the notion of religious or general tolerance? If we define tolerance as the acceptance of diverse viewpoints on a subject, particularly religious matters, the Middle Ages lacked such a concept. Blasphemy or deviations from the accepted faith were not only personal offenses but also affronts to the entire community of believers. In the medieval framework of values, faith held a more communal than private significance. Consequently, tolerance resembled our stance towards criminal transgressors. In the medieval mindset, acknowledging alternative perspectives as equal to one's own was unheard of. The issue at hand was not merely maintaining public order but also upholding cosmic harmony, the intricate relationship between human society and the celestial realm. Thus, the public execution of heretics, considered edifying to the populace, was perceived as just and necessary.
How were Jews treated?
The treatment of the Jews here presented a complex issue. The crux of the matter rested upon a religion with which Christianity shared a particularly intricate relationship and, one might say, unresolved conflict. In his contemplation on sin within Know Thyself, Abelard7
Even during the twelfth century, there existedi
A multitude of historical records attest to the widespread presence of Jews in Western societies during the twelfth to fifteenth centuries. Interestingly, many of these texts focus on individual families rather than indicating the existence of large, organized enclaves. This suggests that Jews and the Christian majority coexisted in close proximity for extended periods. The concept of a ghetto,8
This paradox appears to have been a rhetorical device employed by an authority that professed a readiness to bestow peace and justice even upon those outside its faith, as an expression of its mercy. The term ‘infidels’, often used, denoted those who were subjected to feudal orders and chaos, effectively becoming vassals of the liege lord, as is evident from the possessive pronoun ‘our Jews’. This arrangement, however, came at a cost—a relative erosion of the freedoms that Jews were once guaranteed under Roman law, leading to inequality and personal subordination to the ‘goy’.
Beyond the theological complexities that characterize this millennium-long history of Christian-Jewish relations, it is important to acknowledge that there could not have been an official war between them. Instances of absurd accusations, outbreaks of violence, pogroms, anti-Jewish folklore, and unjust expulsions certainly occurred. However, the concept of war did not apply. The medieval Jew was not a warrior, setting them apart from the world of Islam, which had a different disposition. The dynamic between medieval Christianity and Islam was framed by conflict from the outset and persisted through the centuries. While in the early stages of this history a significant portion of the Christian Mediterranean areas fell under Arab control, alliances were forged with them. By the fifteenth century, with the decline of the Arab states, the Ottoman Turks took the lead. This age-old enmity, still present today, played a significant role in shaping the history of European Christian civilization, despite not always serving as a literal frontier factor.
From the Greeks, the Western world gained awareness that the Quran revered figures like John the Baptist, Mary, and Christ. It was also known that the Quran perceived the crucifixion as an illusion and acknowledged the scriptural peoples: Jews, Christians, and Muslims, who followed the Prophet. Yet, the initial chroniclers of the Crusades often lamented the limited knowledge about Muslims. Consequently, the epic literature, rooted in folklore, sometimes depicted Islam in a distorted manner, attributing idolatry to it and reducing the enemy to a pagan-like entity or portraying their complexities and shortcomings through a warped lens. In the ‘Song of Roland’, an eleventh-century poem based on the Frankish military leader Roland at the Battle of Roncevaux Pass in 778, there emerges a sort of diabolic trinity consisting of Mohammedi
However, around 1140, a turning point occurred when Peter the Venerable, the abbot of Cluny, proposed an alternative approach: that Islam could be countered not only with the sword but also with preaching, dialogue, and love. He initiated a project to translate the Quran and accounts of Muhammad's life by enlisting translators from Spain. His intention was to provide this translation to Bernard of Clairvaux, hoping it would inspire preachers beyond just crusaders. While the project achieved partial success, Bernard's busy schedule prevented him from fully engaging with it, and the translated Latin Quran, skillfully handled by Robert of Chetton and Herman of Carinthia, did not gain widespread distribution. As a result, large-scale preaching and meaningful dialogue about Islam did not materialize, and the cultural understanding of Islam in medieval Europe remained limited.
What does this signify? In essence, the Christian forces engaged in religious wars in the Middle Ages were often unprepared for direct confrontations and had to rely on temporary truces. As we've observed, the preachers primarily focused on addressing heresies within their own territories. A notable exception is Saint Francisi
During the twelfth century, a significant movement emerged: the translation of diverse scientific and philosophical works from Arabic into Latin. These translations encompassed texts of both Arabic origin and Greek classics that had been previously translated into Arabic. This intellectual exchange was particularly vibrant in Toledo, fostered by enlightened and inquisitive archbishops who provided patronage. Scholars from Jewish communities actively engaged in this endeavor as well, into translating Arabic texts into the local Romance language, while Christian translators rendered these translations into Latin. This cross-cultural collaboration opened the door to the Western world's exploration of Arab contributions in medicine, mathematics, astronomy, and astrology, alongside the wisdom of ancient Greek scholars.
The convergence of Greek and Arab traditions wasn't a coincidence. Many Greek ideas entered the realm of young Islam, arriving from both Byzantine schools and the Syrians. These ideas later made their way to the courts of Umayyad and Abbasid caliphs in the seventh to ninth centuries, a period often referred to metaphorically as the Muslim Renaissance. Consequently, Arab scientific literature served as a crucial bridge in rekindling Europe's interest in their Greek heritage. Thinkers like al-Farghani, Ibn Sina, Al-Khwarizmi, Al-Bitrudji, Al-Kindi, Abu Ma’shar, and Hunayn ibn-Ishaq formed a constellation of intellects that Europeans held in similar esteem to the Greek and Latin classics, including luminaries such as Hippocrates, Ptolemy, and Pliny.
Subsequently, Aristotle's influence gained prominence; by the mid-thirteenth century, his complete body of work existed in numerous copies. Despite Aristotle's reputation as a complex and enigmatic figure, the last eminent Aristotelian of the Islamic world, Ibn Rushd from Andalusia, offered his works an extensive commentary. This partnership bestowed upon Aristotle the title of ‘the Philosopher,’ and Ibn Rushd, known as Averroes in Latin, became ‘the Commentator’. In unison, Aristotle and Averroes revolutionized Europe's intellectual landscape, demonstrating for the first time that the pursuit of truth could be achieved through philosophy alone. This innovation's significance cannot be overstated. Even though the Church initially condemned over 200 philosophical and theological theses for Averroism in 1277, the momentum of intellectual renewal had already taken root, rendering any attempts to halt it futile.
Yet, it is crucial to understand that there was no deliberate effort to translate Arabic literary masterpieces systematically and purposefully. Occasional Arabic motifs and the proliferation of arabesque designs in ornamentation intrigued as novelties but did not culminate in a distinct style. The Latin world absorbed Arabic algebra and astronomy in simplified forms. While Aristotle found his place, his predecessor Plato had to await recognition for another two centuries. The humanists of the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, some of whom were well-versed in ancient Greek and translated Plato, largely disregarded the translations from the scholastic era's predecessors, despite their substantial interest in Greco-Arabic astrology. Moreover, the initial motivation for these translations was not to foster dialogue but to reclaim intellectual treasures that had been 'illegally' acquired by non-believers.
This intellectual fervor shares some similarities with the spirit of the Crusaders. The twelfth-century Andalusian geographer al-Zuhri portrayed the Pisans primarily as formidable warriors and only secondarily as traders. War and trade were intertwined in the Christian West's expansion in all directions. This expansion also shaped a distinct pragmatism in matters of culture and power. Indeed, Leonardo Fibonacci10
Despite the seemingly irreconcilable nature of different religious systems, I believe that dialogue between them is possible. Such dialogue can contribute to mutual enrichment among the adherents of these religions and perhaps even prompt changes within them. Nevertheless, the Catholic kings' conquest of Granada11
Consequently, a new world began to take shape within the context of medieval circumstances as the Pillars of Hercules ceased to be the age-old boundary of Europe. Gradually, the ocean evolved into a conduit for interaction between the Old World and the new continents that had seemingly emerged from thin air. The inquisitive and daring Europeans found themselves engaging with unfamiliar societies, prompting a shift in their frames of reference system.
References
1. Voskoboinikov, O.S. The Middle Ages close-up. M., 2020 (In Russ.)
2. Dubey, G. France in the Middle Ages 987-1460: From Hugh Capet to Joan of Arc (translated). М., 2001.
3. Contamine, P. War in the Middle Ages. (translated). SPb. 2001.
4. Le Goff, J. Medieval Civilization. (translated). М. 1992.
5. Luchitskaya, S.I. The Crusades. Idea and reality. St. Petersburg, 2019.
6. E.V. Morozova I.O. М. 2011, Song of the Crusade against the Albigensians, Ed. by Belavin.
7. Sidorov, A.I. Waiting for the Apocalypse. Frankish society in the Carolingian era. St. Petersburg, 2018.
8. Togoeva, O.I., Affairs of the flesh. The intimate life of the people of the Middle Ages in the space of judicial polemics. M., SPb. 2018. [].
9. Wickham, Ch. Medieval Europe. From the fall of Rome to the Reformation. (translated).М. 2019
10. Falk, S. The Light Ages: A Medieval Journey of Discovery. (translated).М. 2023.
11. Huizinga, J. The Autumn of the Middle Ages. (translated).М. 1995
12. Heers, J. La Naissance du capitalisme au Moyen Âge. Changeurs, usuriers et grands financiers. (translated). St. Petersburg, 2015.