The Year Cecil Rhodes Kicked My *** (Part One)

November 23, 2022June 12, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Introduction: If you’ve ever written, painted, composed, recorded, or produced pretty much anything in any medium, you know that sometimes you feel the magic happening and sometimes… well, sometimes you keep sawing the lady in half no matter how much she screams and begs you to stop.

Metaphorically, that is.

I’ve been trying to write a brief bio of Cecil Rhodes off and on for most of 2022. Some of the delays have come as a result of normal, boring stuff – trying to keep up with school, wrapping up some unrelated writing projects, letting myself enjoy stupid fun stuff far more often than I have in recent decades, etc. Some of it comes from my own ignorance. I’ve had to digest way more than I expected about related African and European history just to make sense of the parts directly related to Rhodes. And some of it, if I’m being honest, has been my inability to narrow down his story to a narrative detailed enough to be useful but edited enough to serve its primary purpose – boiling down complex historical ideas to digestible lengths people might actually read and enjoy.

So, I’ve resorted to doing what I sometimes do in these situations. I’m writing it all and posting it here as I go, knowing that it’s too bulky, too unfocused, and too unpolished. Only when I’m finished with all eleventeen installments will I go back and begin chopping away at the results in hopes of making them manageable and perhaps even (Lord willing) engaging. Pretty or not, it’s the only way I can push through some topics and eventually hone them into the pithy brilliance that is “Have To” History. (Right now, at this stage, it’s more like “Hurling” History.)

Turn away if you must. Offer constructive commentary if you dare. Either way, I simply must get through this. Thank you in advance for your understanding and support.

And now, here’s the long, unedited version of stuff you might not even want to know about Cecil Rhodes, but probably should – Part One.

Introduction

Cecil Rhodes was… complicated. It in no way excuses the wrongs for which he was responsible for us to recognize and appreciate the laudable elements of his story. If anything, it reminds us that in the right circumstances, most of us are quite capable of being both swell and abhorrent – sometimes within a very short time frame. While history is certainly replete with similar examples, Rhodes represents as well as anyone the futility of attempting to categorize our forebears into “good guys” and “bad guys.”

As Marvel comics and the Bible figured out long ago, our heroes often have some unpleasant features. Thomas Jefferson was a slave owner and carried on a sexual relationship for years with his slave Sally Hemings. Martin Luther King, Jr., plagiarized his way through grad school and was having extra-marital affairs right up until his assassination. Franklin D. Roosevelt approved the internment of Japanese Americans and turned away Jews at the border during the Holocaust while carrying on his own sexual liaisons. And Sherlock Holmes was a cocaine addict, although he managed to keep his pants on – just in case we needed irrefutable proof he was fictional.

On the other hand, the nastiest villains may retain smatterings of graciousness, talent, or good intentions. Genghis Khan slaughtered tens of thousands of people and built an empire on terror, but he also instituted religious freedom, eliminated torture, and set up a pretty effective mail delivery system. Joseph Stalin modernized Russian agriculture and improved health care and education for the small percentage of citizens who survived his reign. Even Tucker Carlson has, um… I mean…

Stalin and Khan had some good points, is what I’m saying.

Whether in history or pop culture, flawed heroes tend to be far more inspirational and complicated villains far more illuminating. Few of us can aspire to be the next Jesus or Superman. Perhaps, however, we can strive to emphasize the better angels of our nature à la William B. Travis or Severus Snape.

Then again, by most modern standards, Cecil Rhodes was more Magneto than Batman – a complex villain rather than a flawed hero. He is at the very least a problematic figure, no matter how much grace we choose to employ. Whatever his stated intentions or proclaimed ideologies, Cecil was in many ways a very naughty man who used and abused those he deemed lesser than himself – which was most people. The fact that this was not so unusual in his era makes it no less odious.

Still, there’s that “complex and thus interesting” part to consider. Thankfully, we don’t necessarily need to weigh his eternal soul or fully unpack his complex motivations to deal with the symbol he became in western culture and world history. In many ways, that’s more important than the “real” person underneath.

The Son’ll Come Out, Tomorrow…

Cecil Rhodes was born in 1853 in Hertfordshire, just north of London. He was by all accounts a rather “sickly” child – a generic term covering anything from asthma to allergies to lactose intolerance (but stopping short of something major enough to secure accurate diagnosis, like scarlet fever). His father was a clergyman in the Church of England, making the family what we’d today think of as “middle class.” His older brothers attended what were known as “public schools,” the nineteenth century British equivalent of upscale private schooling. Cecil, however, was sent to the local “grammar school,” an early version of what Americans today would think of as a decent, local public high school – humble, but still set above any “charity schools” in the area.

When he was sixteen years old, Cecil fell victim to “consumption” – most likely tuberculosis or something similar. This was a fairly severe condition in the nineteenth century and not everyone recovered. As we’ve recently been reminded, serious ailments which prove difficult to control tend to spark socio-political reactions on top of the personal suffering they cause. When people feel frightened or uncertain, they tend to embrace explanations which offer them some sort of control or detachment from danger and suffering, reality be damned. Folks in nineteenth century England were no exception.

Like so many nasty things, tuberculosis was (and is) caused by bacteria attacking various organs inside the human body, most particularly the lungs. All that coughing and gagging and spitting up blood helped spread the ailment to fellow humans, making it highly contagious – particularly in crowded households, cities, or anywhere else people live and work together. Biologically, the disease itself was an equal opportunity infector. Rich folks were just as susceptible as the poor, other factors being equal.

But of course, other factors weren’t equal – and therein crept that socio-political dynamic history teaches us to expect. One of the primary benefits of wealth was having a little elbow room, thus reducing the chances of infection to begin with. Your surroundings tended to be cleaner and you were more likely to spend time outdoors, further restricting the spread of yucky things. Illness, on the other hand, correlated with poverty in the sense that poor folks were more likely to live in crowded, unsanitary conditions. Poverty, in turn, often correlated with the sorts of lifestyles upper classes derided as immoral and in constant violation of proper social norms.

It’s not always easy to distinguish between difficult circumstances and poor personal choices, then or now.

It was thus natural – if unfortunate – that many people perceived a strong correlation between poverty (and the careless, often “immoral” life choices which accompanied it) and tuberculosis. In other words, the disease took on an ethical component. As is so often the case throughout history, sufferers were thought to be at least partially responsible for their own conditions. Since those living “better” lives, with better educations, better morals, and better resources, were less likely to contract tuberculosis, then maybe those who did fall ill (or die) were kinda asking for it. Add in a little “just world fallacy” and you have a pretty stubborn, if mistaken, paradigm.

In any case, “consumption” meant Rhodes was unable to attend the same sorts of schools as his brothers. When he was 16, he was sent to South Africa in hopes the climate would be better for his health. It was much warmer there, and Cecil could spend more time outside. He began working on a small cotton plantation with one of his older brothers and his health did, in fact, began to improve. It also just so happened that something else was going on in Africa at this time – something shinier and more appealing than picking or refining cotton.

Africa had diamonds. Lots of them. Now it simply needed someone with a little vision to make the most of the sparkly beasts.

All That Glitters Is Sold

Only a few years before Rhodes arrived in South Africa, diamonds had been discovered on the De Beers farm in nearby Kimberley. This sparked a diamond rush much like the gold and silver rushes of early American history. It didn’t take long before Cecil was splitting his time and energy between cotton and diamond mining. Each time he uncovered some sparkle, he used the profits to purchase the rights to more and more land and expand his mining operations. He partnered with a fellow Brit named Charles Rudd and they began building quite a fortune for themselves.

In 1873, Rhodes left Rudd in charge and began using his newfound wealth to pay for the sort of elite education he felt he’d been denied. For nearly a decade, he split his time between his studies in England and the diamond mines of Africa. The “Kimberly Hole,” as their primary operation became known, was one of the largest holes of any sort ever dug, and the wealth just kept pouring out of its depths. In 1880, Rhodes and Rudd formed De Beers Mining Company. Over the next decade they absorbed each of their major competitors, one at a time. De Beers soon became (and remains) one of the biggest names in diamonds worldwide – arguably THE biggest.

In 1886, gold was discovered on De Beers property as well. You know, because it was about time they caught a lucky break. Rhodes was one of the richest men in the world before he turned 35.

It’s worth noting that diamond mining was dirty, dangerous business. Workers were regularly injured or killed on site and severe illness was pretty much a given for any who lived long enough. Poor working conditions, crowded quarters, and the dangers of mining itself made pneumonia and tuberculosis common ailments, with scurvy and syphilis not far behind.

These were considered perfectly acceptable dangers, as long as you weren’t the one facing them. That’s what lesser men – especially those native to the area – were for.

Money Is Politics Is Power Is… Messy

By all accounts, money for money’s sake was never Rhodes’ primary goal. He was convinced beyond doubt that the British were a superior race with a superior culture, and that he owed it to the world to expand Great Britain’s influence over as much of the globe as possible. In his mind, this would not just be good for England – he’d be doing the rest of the world a massive favor as well.

He was thus quick to enter the fray of local politics in southern Africa. For nearly two decades he was rarely idle, throwing himself with equal enthusiasm into business pursuits, territorial conflicts, and political struggles. The details can get a bit tedious for anyone not committed to a detailed history of southern Africa in the late nineteenth century, so we’re going to simplify things a bit in hopes of better understanding and remembering the bigger picture. Rhodes’ primary legacy, after all, is a largely symbolic one; the images and emotions he left behind are arguably far more important than geographical or statistical accuracy.

NEXT: The Long, Unedited Version of Stuff You Might Not Even Want to Know about Cecil Rhodes, but Probably Should – Part Two

Rabbit Trails: Cecil Rhodes and the Moral Complications of… Everything

May 4, 2022June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

NOTE: I’ve been playing with ideas for a future “Have To” History book, tentatively titled “Who In The World?” The premise would be to tackle major events and issues in world history through a series of brief narratives or biographies of world figures whose names may sound vaguely familiar but who aren’t the “A-listers.” Cecil Rhodes certainly fits that bill, but I’ve been having trouble narrowing down what to include and what to cut from his story. The draft I’m sharing today demonstrates both the potential of using biography as an anchor for larger themes and issues and the dangers of the rabbit trails which naturally result from this approach. I doubt most of this will make it into the final version, if such a thing should one day come about.

Cecil Rhodes potentially represents many things in world history. In doing so, he reminds us of the futility of attempting to categorize our forebears into “good guys” and “bad guys.” Rhodes was… complicated. It in no way excuses the wrongs for which he was responsible for us to recognize and appreciate the laudable elements of his story. If anything, it reminds us that in the right circumstances, most of us are quite capable of being both swell and abhorrent – sometimes within a very short time frame.

As Marvel comics (or the Bible) figured out long ago, our heroes often have an unpleasant feature or two, while the nastiest villains may retain smatterings of graciousness, talent, or good intentions of the sort we’d much rather be reserved for someone more likable – hence the endless debates over whether or not the Declaration of Independence is forever tainted by Thomas Jefferson’s record as a slave owner or when it’s appropriate to spill tea on Nelson Mandela or Martin Luther King, Jr. Personally, I’ve always found flawed heroes to be far more inspirational and complicated villains far more illuminating. Few of us can aspire to be as flawless as Superman of Gandhi as commonly presented. Perhaps, however, we can strive to emphasize the better angels of our nature even as flawed, fallen mortals.

Then again, Rhodes was no Jefferson or Gandhi by any measure, no matter how much grace we choose to employ. Whatever his mitigating intentions or ideologies tied to his times and circumstances, Cecil was in many ways a very naughty man who used and abused those he deemed lesser than himself – which was most people.

Rhodes wasn’t American, but his life echoed a Horatio Alger tale: misfit kid defies all the odds and becomes monumentally successful. He craved wealth and power and exploited both once attained. He believed his race was naturally superior to all others – particularly those native to the continent of Africa, where he made much of his fortune and at one time had two countries named after him. He used his wealth and political power to fight for the protection of the “little people” (of various races). He started a war which wasn’t at all necessary and cost tens of thousands of lives. He believed deeply in British values and culture and the good it could do for the world at large once embraced.

Rhodes was idealistic when it came to British values or the power of education. He left behind an endowment committed to providing opportunities for others like himself to attend Oxford University and carve their own pathway to success, explicitly specifying that “no student shall be qualified or disqualified for election … on account of his race or religious opinions.” At the same time, he pretty much laid the groundwork for what would later be known as “apartheid” across South Africa.

Oh, and he helped make diamonds sacred in western culture, sparking a bizarre conviction (which still lingers today) that unless you cement your relationship with small rocks worth several years’ salary, you’re not REALLY in love.

So, like I said… complicated, despite leaning quite naughty by modern standards.

The Son’ll Come Out, Tomorrow…

And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?
Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.
But his disciples muttered to themselves and insisted, that can’t be right. He’s mistranslating the original Greek or something. Can we go back and choose a passage from the Old Testament instead?
(John 9:2-4, Modern American Version)

Cecil Rhodes was born in 1853 in Hertfordshire, just north of London. He was by all accounts a rather “sickly” child – a generic term covering anything from asthma to allergies to lactose intolerance (but stopping short of something major enough to secure accurate diagnosis, like scarlet fever. His father was a clergyman in the Church of England, making the family what we’d today think of as “middle class.” His older brothers attended what were known as “public schools,” the nineteenth century British equivalent of ritzy private schooling. Cecil, however, was sent to the local “grammar school,” an early version of what Americans today would think of as a decent, local public high school – humble, but still set above any “charity schools” in the area.

When he was sixteen years old, Cecil fell victim to “consumption” – most likely tuberculosis or something similar. This was a fairly severe condition in the nineteenth century and not everyone recovered. As we’ve recently been reminded, serious ailments which prove difficult to control tend to spark socio-political reactions on top of the personal suffering they cause. When people feel frightened or out of control, they tend to embrace explanations which offer them some sort of control or detachment from danger or suffering, reality be damned. Folks in nineteenth century England were no exception.

Like so many nasty things, tuberculosis was (and is) caused by bacteria attacking various organs inside the human body, most particularly the lungs. All that coughing and gagging and spitting up blood helps spread the ailment to fellow humans, making it highly contagious – particularly in crowded households, cities, or anywhere else people live and work together. Biologically, the disease itself was an equal opportunity infector. Rich folks were just as susceptible as the poor, other factors being equal.

But of course, other factors weren’t equal – end therein crept that socio-political dynamic history teaches us to expect. One of the primary benefits of wealth was having a little elbow room, thus reducing the chances of infection to begin with. Your surroundings tended to becleaner and you were more likely to spend time outdoors, further restricting the spread of yucky things.

Correlation, Causation, and the Moral High Ground

Nineteenth century medicine wasn’t quite caught up on the whole bacteria/infection thing, but physicians certainly noted the correlations between nasty conditions and disease. One of the most common treatments, in fact, was to send the afflicted who could afford it to warmer, and thus presumably healthier, locales, where they’d be directed to spend more time outside breathing fresh air and reading epic poetry or whatever. (In Cecil’s case, that meant sending him to South Africa to farm cotton with one of his brothers – but we’ll get back to that in a moment.)

Illness, in other words, correlated with poverty in the sense that poor folks were more likely to live in crowded, unsanitary conditions. Poverty, in turn, often correlated with the sorts of lifestyles upper classes derided as immoral and in constant violation of proper social norms. It’s not always easy to distinguish between difficult circumstances and poor personal choices, then or now.

By way of example, for centuries those paying attention had noted a strong correlation between bad smells and severe illnesses. It was thus reasonable enough to assume that strong odors were actually the source of many ailments. Avoid the nasty scents, and you’d reduce your chances of getting sick.

This “miasma theory” had such staying power because it largely worked. Staying away from gross things will, in fact, reduce your chances of serious illness. More time outside and “socially distancing” from others makes you less likely to take in new germs. Keeping your surroundings clean, eating healthier foods, and getting enough sleep also lower your odds of “consumption.” We can all break out our “correlation does not imply causation” memes, but it wasn’t such a crazy supposition – incorrect or not.

It was thus natural – if unfortunate – that many perceived a strong correlation between poverty and the careless, often “immoral” life choices which accompanied it, and tuberculosis. In other words, the disease took on an ethical component. As is so often the case throughout history, sufferers were thought to be at least partially responsible for their own conditions. If those living better lives, with better educations, and better morals, and better resources, were less likely to contract tuberculosis, then maybe those who did fall ill (or die) were kinda asking for it. Add in a predisposition for divine retribution and eternal justice and whatnot and you get the very human “just-world fallacy.”

Science Progresses; Bias Conserves

And therein lies the problem. (Well, one of them – and a BIG one.) The confusion about the source of illness is problematic from a purely medical standpoint, of course, but that element tends to clear up over time because that’s how science works – explanations are proposed, tested, messed with, and tried out, until refined into better explanations. Lather, rinse, repeat. It’s the oversimplification of the moral and personal factors which proves far more dangerous over time. Nearly two centuries later, and we’re still not fully convinced that poverty and illness aren’t primarily caused by the afflicted simply not being as wonderful as we are.

I mean, it should be obvious – we’ve worked hard to do all the right things, and while it hasn’t been easy, we’re doing OK. Therefore, that’s how things work. Therefore squared, anyone for whom things aren’t working out must not have worked as hard as we have or done as many right things – otherwise, the system is chaotic and random and meaningless and there’s no point to any of it and madness rules eternity.

It’s a tempting bit of reasoning, especially if we work very hard to avoid thinking about it too clearly. (It’s far “truer” when we just kinda “feel” it in the background and don’t over-analyze it.) Such a monumental fallacy goes nicely with some false dichotomy icing and blood-red sprinkles spelling out “EITHER OUR CHOICES MATTER OR THEY DON’T” in an awkward sugary scrawl (and the “DON’T” kinda crammed in at the far edge).

In any case, “consumption” meant Rhodes was unable to attend the same sorts of schools as his brothers. He was instead sent to South Africa where it was warmer and he could spend more time outside, in this case working on a small cotton plantation with one of those same brothers. It just so happened that something else was going on in Africa at this time – something shinier and more appealing than picking or refining cotton.

Africa had diamonds. Lots of them. Now it simply needed someone with a little vision to make the most of the sparkly beasts.

Empress Theodora

March 19, 2022June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Theodora was (most likely) born In 497 CE, a few years short of the dawn of the sixth century. She was the middle child of three, all girls, and more or less destined for disrepute. Her father was a bear trainer in the Hippodrome of Constantinople, capital of what we today tend to think of as the Byzantine Empire. If you’d asked anyone living there at the time, however, they’d have been far more likely to think of themselves as Rome.

While later historians would mark 476 CE as “the fall of the Roman Empire,” no one told Rome. Granted, they were plagued with endless foreign invasions (the Goths, the Vandals, and other punk-band sounding names) and struggling financially, but they didn’t exactly disappear – they just… adjusted a bit. The traditional capital in Italy was lost, but the seat of power had already largely shifted further east to what today is Istanbul. In reality, “Rome” continued until 1453 when the Ottomans overthrew their capital and changed the name.

Why did Constantinople get the works? That’s nobody’s business but the Turks.

The Bare Necessities

When you picture Roman chariot races, massive battle reenactments, and all the weird stuff they used to do to animals for entertainment, you probably include a standard “Roman coliseum” in the mix. One of the grandest was Constantinople’s Hippodrome. It’s not certain exactly what was covered by the title “bear keeper” (presumably it at least involved caring for the bears used as entertainment in various ways), but it definitely made Theodora and her sisters part of the “theater” class. Professional entertainment has always been a suspect class; it’s only in the past century we’ve begun celebrating entertainers as worthy of emulation or even idolization. For the previous thousand or so years, theater types were considered sketchy at best – right down there with Gypsies, Jews, and Tucker Carlson.

The details are a bit fuzzy, but the lines between “actress” and “prostitute” were pretty thin in the sixth century. It’s probably not that surprising that folks entertained by animals slaughtering one another or eating criminals or whatever weren’t overly highbrow when it came to their human entertainment. Much like today, fart jokes, violence, and sex were far stronger draws than philosophical discussions. Theodora was apparently quite ribald even at an age we’d consider WAY too young today, and for whatever reason she was VERY good at it.

She developed quite a reputation among fans of the “theater.” We can judge her for that if we like, but keep in mind that in most times and places throughout history, women have had very little political or economic power. They’ve been systematically marginalized and legally restrained. {Editor’s Note: if you live in a red state, please change this line to “some women have possibly at times been randomly subjected to unrelated episodes of sexism by individuals who coincidentally passed laws to reinforce their personal, non-systemic biases.”}

There was no option for Theodora to “study hard” or “make good choices” and get anywhere beyond tawdry routines and maybe some animal training. So, like many women who ended up in the history books, she used what she had – a gift for tantalizing men (and possibly a number of women as well) and a sharp mind – to raise her station. If she managed to break a few, um… “hearts” along the way, then so be it.

Working Her Way Up (And Down)

As sometimes happens when enough seed is sown, Theodora found herself with child and delivered a baby boy while still in her prime. The father was apparently happy to have a son, but less enthusiastic to be associated with the mother, so he took the boy back with him to whatever part of the world he called home. Not long after, Theodora had a chance to climb the social ladder a bit via an up-and-comer (as it were) named Hecebolus who was assuming the throne in Northern Africa. She lived in relative luxury for a time, but it seems the couple soon had a falling out and she was left with few resources and no way home.

It’s not certain what went wrong, but several plausible accounts suggest that while Theodora was confident and quick-witted, she lacked tact (or fear) when dealing with powerful men. This boldness was no doubt one of her most appealing qualities, but we’ve all read enough books and seen enough movies to know how things turn out for the saucy hottie once her target grows secure in his position and tires of her constant input and opinions. It’s likely Theodora shared one “insight” or criticism too many – a costly error she would never make again.

While it’s possible to trace her winding path back to Constantinople, the real story is the humiliation and degradation she suffered attempting to earn her sustenance and continue her travels. She’d been born into humble circumstances, but until now had always been able to seduce, charm, or think her way out of almost any crisis. It’s not that her beauty had faded – by all accounts she was still a stunner. She was simply in unfamiliar territory plying a far-too-common trade. It must have been devastating for her.

By the time she reached Constantinople, Theodora has been transformed – at least internally. She avoided the theater as well as the streets and found work spinning fabric, a humble but modestly respectable trade. She’d also become a devout woman committed to her religious faith. That’s where things will eventually get complicated.

Really complicated.

But that’s down the road. For now, we have a contrite Theodora, sitting at her spinning wheel, seeking Heaven’s approval, when Justinian somehow happens by. At 20, she’s half his age, but no doubt still quite a draw and certainly wisened by the years. Her past was at that point largely past, and it’s unlikely Justinian would have recognized her name or heard the stories. We don’t really have reliable accounts of exactly when they met or how their relationship first developed, but it seems likely that Justinian was drawn not only to her “maturing” beauty but her sharp wit and insight, now tempered by experience. It says nothing negative about Theodora if she jumped at the opportunity to nurture that interest. He was older, educated, and clearly on his way to bigger things – maybe she could come with?

Empress Theodora

When Justinian and Theodora first became a thing, Justinian was the trusted advisor and second-in-command to Emperor Justin I. (The similarity in their names is no coincidence – Justin was Justinian’s uncle and Justinian chose his name as an act of shameless flattery. His given name was “Flavius.”) While this was a great position to be in politically, it was inconvenient personally; the law prevented men in his position from marrying women with backgrounds like Theodora’s. It didn’t help that Justin’s wife simply could not stand the girl. Justinian and Theodora were free to do, you know… what people in love do – but officially, they’d have to bide their time.

Several years later, Justin I died and Justinian was the logical successor – especially after he had his only serious rivals murdered right there in the throne room. That meant the Empress no longer held formal sway over his life choices, and it was no real difficulty for him to simply change the laws which had prohibited their coupling.

Justinian I took the throne with Empress Theodora by his side.

The Nika Riots

In 532 CE, during Justinian’s fifth year on the throne, he faced the first real challenge of his rule. Political unrest had been growing as the emperor raised taxes and appointed abusively innovative men to help collect them. A botched execution and some weird crowd participation at the chariot races sparked this frustration into widespread rioting which continued for days. Much of Constantinople was burned down and Justinian’s efforts to pacify the masses did little to slow the destruction. These days are remembered as the Nika Riots.

Things went badly enough that Justinian and several of his top commanders eventually began planning their escape. One pictures them throwing robes, goblets, and scrolls into gilded trunks while racing around the room frantically – although in reality they were no doubt handling the situation with manly aplomb. (Dudes hate looking wigged in front of other dudes, and even more so in the presence of estrogen.) Nevertheless, it was time to get the #$%& out of Constantinople.

That’s when Theodora stepped in and spoke her peace:

My lords, it may be unseemly for a woman to add her voice to the affairs of men, but the situation at the moment is too serious for me to hold my tongue. We must focus on the wisest course of action – not ceremony or tradition.
In my opinion, fleeing is not the right course, even if it did somehow bring us to safety. It is impossible for a person, having been born into this world, to forever avoid death; but for one who has reigned it is intolerable to be a fugitive. May I never be deprived of this purple robe, and may I never see the day when those who meet me do not call me “Empress.”
If you wish to save yourself, my lord, there is certainly no difficulty. We are rich; over there is the sea, and yonder are the ships. But reflect for a moment whether, once you have escaped to a place of security, you would not gladly exchange that safety for death. As for me, I agree with the adage that purple is the noblest shroud.

The Color Purple

Theodora’s closing statement is sometimes translated as “I would rather die as royalty” or some variation thereof. Purple was so closely associated with and limited to royalty that official approval or high office were often referred to simply as “the purple.” An officer promoted to duty in the royal chambers was “elevated to the purple.” Royal children were “born in the purple,” and so on. (Naturally, any outside use of the color – even if somehow available – was strictly forbidden.) So… the “royalty” translation is thus accurate enough, but it lacks the flourish one might reasonably expect of someone brought up in the theater and extremely gifted at producing pretty much any emotion or reaction she wished in her “audience.”

Theodora’s rhetorical skill doesn’t imply deception or insincerity; there’s every reason to believe she meant precisely what she said. She’d been a commoner, and she’d lost the throne once before (in Northern Africa). She had no interest in repeating either experience. “Purple is the noblest shroud” was not merely poetic; it was a poignant reminder of what it meant to be truly “royal.” it was a statement of values, and self, and a worldview not easily forsaken once attained.

On a more practical level, the speech was a bit of a shamer as well – “Of course we could run, but… is that really who we want to be? I’d rather take my chances here and die at the top than hide at the bottom.” And it worked. Justinian and crew decided that perhaps they hadn’t exhausted their other options after all. They regrouped and ended up slaughtering tens of thousands of malcontents until order was restored.

Which I suppose counts as a “win.”

The city was rebuilt (the Hagia Sophia is particularly nice) and Justinian would go on to do lots of important stuff – not the least of which was his famous “Code of Justinian,” which formed an important link in the evolution of western legal systems. Theodora would stick around as well, often supporting Justinian and other times subverting him – especially in matters of faith. For the moment, however, she’d locked herself into history as a strong female, using the tools at her disposal to improve her situation and standing firm when those around her were about to break.

She remains, in our collective memory, forever shrouded in that purple she so craved. While she’d hardly qualify as “hero” or “role model,” she certainly at least earned that.

Hammurabi, King of Babylon (from “Have To” History)

April 22, 2020June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Stuff You Don’t Really Want To Know (But For Some Reason Have To) About Hammurabi, King of Babylon…

Three Big Things:

1. Responsible for the best-known and arguably most influential set of legal codes in the ancient world. Key issue: they were written down and publicly posted.

2. Brought Mesopotamia together as a more-or-less united empire (this time with Babylon as the seat of central authority) for the first time since Sargon six centuries prior.

3. Seriously, the written law thing. It’s just huge. “An eye for an eye”? That was his. Innocent until proven guilty? Also his, although not phrased quite so smoothly. A chance for the accused to defend themselves? Punishment fitting the crime? Throwing people in rivers to see if they float? That’s Hammurabi, baby.

Background

Mesopotamia had been united under Sargon of Akkad around the 24th Century B.C. It held together for a century or so after his death, then fell back into a collection of various city-states, no doubt vying for power and influence, sometimes uniting against nomadic outsiders or other external threats and sometimes uniting with those outsiders against one another.

Hammurabi was the sixth king of Babylon, having assumed the throne from his unfortunately-named father, Sin-Muballit. They seem to have been Amorites, originally a tribe from western Syria and one of the groups most often mentioned in the Old Testament as both scary and deserving of slaughter whenever possible. Then again, records from this time period are fragmentary and the language maddeningly inconsistent, so a term like “Amorite” may have been more of a title or categorization than a specific ethnic group or family name. Like much from this era, the issue is cloaked in contradictory evidence and academic debate.

It can seriously get heated, in the right crowd… which is oddly awesome and tragic at the same time.

Hammurabi began his reign around 1800 B.C. and for several years remained fairly conservative. He excelled at the complexities of running a complex nation via correspondence and financing and bureaucracy, and had a personal focus on detail not always associated with absolute power. Hammurabi and his peeps restored some temples, completed some public works projects, and otherwise followed in daddy’s footsteps – until Babylonian territory was invaded by Elam (outsiders we don’t actually care about right now). That seems to have unleashed Hammurabi’s aggressive side, for he not only effectively repelled the invaders, he expanded his own domain in the process.

And he kept expanding it for the remainder of his rule.

Hammurabi was apparently quite the realpolitikster, making and breaking treaties and side deals with rapid but cold-hearted brilliance, thousands of years before “Machiavellian” was even a word. His army won more than they lost, which helped, and they could be merciless. One of Hammurabi’s trademark moves was to dam up major rivers before they reached enemy territory, then either starve the entire region or drown them by releasing the waters as an unstoppable flood.

Dude.

The Code of Hammurabi

But what he’s really remembered for are those laws. Two hundred and eighty-two “if X, then Y” statements, spoken with the authority of the gods and claiming to promote the best interests of the little people.

Anu and Bel called by name me, Hammurabi, the exalted prince, who feared God, to bring about the rule of righteousness in the land, to destroy the wicked and the evil-doers; so that the strong should not harm the weak… {They called me to} enlighten the land, to further the well-being of mankind…
When Marduk sent me to rule over men, to give the protection of right to the land, I did right and righteousness… and brought about the well-being of the oppressed…

Nowhere was it claimed he was humble or self-effacing.

2. If anyone bring an accusation against a man, and the accused go to the river and leap into the river, if he sink in the river his accuser shall take possession of his house. But if the river prove that the accused is not guilty, and he escape unhurt, then he who had brought the accusation shall be put to death, while he who leaped into the river shall take possession of the house that had belonged to his accuser.
3. If anyone bring an accusation of any crime before the elders, and does not prove what he has charged, he shall, if it be a capital offense charged, be put to death.
6. If anyone steal the property of a temple or of the court, he shall be put to death, and also the one who receives the stolen thing from him shall be put to death.
8. If anyone steal cattle or sheep, or an ass, or a pig or a goat, if it belong to a god or to the court, the thief shall pay thirtyfold therefor; if they belonged to a freed man of the king he shall pay tenfold; if the thief has nothing with which to pay he shall be put to death.

There was a lot of putting wrong-doers to death. If there were uncertainty, you might be thrown into the river to determine whether or not you were guilty – a pithy reminder that this was still a civilization built around sacred water and the whims of whichever gods controlled its rise and fall.

21. If anyone break a hole into a house (to enter and steal), he shall be put to death before that hole and be buried.
22. If anyone is committing a robbery and is caught, then he shall be put to death.
23. If the robber is not caught, then shall he who was robbed claim under oath the amount of his loss; then shall the community… in whose domain it was compensate him for the goods stolen.
24. If persons are stolen, then shall the community… pay one mina of silver to their relatives.

Those last two are interesting – the community responsibility bit. It’s unclear whether this idea was drawn from existing customs, or if it were perhaps intended to build a sense of mutual accountability.

A tiring number deal with contracts or other types of fiscal or personal liability. Others set specific daily rates for different sorts of labor. There’s guidance for handling accusations of adultery or other marital difficulties.

Some punishments varied by social class – poor people faced greater consequences for the same behavior than the rich, and harming the wealthy carried a greater penalty than harming the commoners. Still, overall, the code suggests the accused have a right to defend themselves before the law and that guilt must be well-established before punitive action is considered.

It’s a bit harsh on filial shortcomings – especially if you were adopted:

191. If a man, who had adopted a son and reared him, founded a household, and had children, wish to put this adopted son out, then this son shall not simply go his way. His adoptive father shall give him of his wealth one-third of a child’s portion, and then he may go. He shall not give him of the field, garden, and house.
192. If a son of a paramour or a prostitute say to his adoptive father or mother: “You are not my father, or my mother,” his tongue shall be cut off.
193. If the son of a paramour or a prostitute desire his father’s house, and desert his adoptive father and adoptive mother, and goes to his father’s house, then shall his eye be put out…
195. If a son strike his father, his hands shall be hewn off.

An Eye For An Eye

The section for which Hammurabi’s Law is most remembered, of course, goes something like this:

196. If a man put out the eye of another man, his eye shall be put out.
197. If he break another man’s bone, his bone shall be broken.
198. If he put out the eye of a freed man, or break the bone of a freed man, he shall pay one gold mina.
…
200. If a man knock out the teeth of his equal, his teeth shall be knocked out.
201. If he knock out the teeth of a freed man, he shall pay one-third of a gold mina.
202. If any one strike the body of a man higher in rank than he, he shall receive sixty blows with an ox-whip in public.

The “eye for an eye” system is known in legal circles as lex talionis – “retributive justice.” This and many of the other approaches taken by Hammurabi were later echoed in Old Testament law (see Exodus 21 in particular).

Periodic cultural melodrama over this chronology stems from a popular, but false, dichotomy between inspiration and incorporation; there’s nothing particularly suspicious about legal codes sharing common elements or social norms evolving from existing customs. Such reasoning would defrock the most sanctified sermon or inspirational song upon discovering the use of standard rhetorical devices or popular chord changes.

History rarely disproves anything meaningful about faith; faith rarely benefits by twisting history (or science, or math, or human nature) into something it’s not. It is supposedly the truth, after all, which sets one free.

Summary

Hammurabi’s laws were written at a time of expanding Babylonian empire. His kingdom was absorbing a variety of ethnic and tribal groups, speaking different languages, worshipping different gods, and rooted in a disparate tangle of customs and legal traditions. Many considered personal vengeance or ongoing “blood feuds” (think Hatfields and McCoys, or Swift and Perry) to be not only acceptable but honorably essential. Without some clear, firm, unifying set of expectations, as well as a clear message that the state (with a little help from the gods) would address any substantive issues itself – and that attempting to handle things on your own would be dealt with severely – Babylon might well have caved in on itself before outsiders even had a chance to undermine or overthrow it.

Maybe not every nation would flourish under such detailed and unbending rules, but it was most likely exactly what Hammurabi’s Babylon needed for peace and prosperity.

The Swahili Coast (“Have To” History)

April 19, 2020June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Stuff You Don’t Really Want To Know (But For Some Reason Have To) About the Swahili Coast

Three Big Things:

1. The Swahili Coast was an important part of the Indian Ocean Trade Network in the 12th – 15th centuries. It’s a useful historical example of trade networks, cultural diffusion, and interaction between man and environment.

2. Over time, the people of the Swahili Coast evolved into a series of independent city-states sharing a common language (Swahili), a common faith (Islam), and a coherent economic system (er… “Trade”) – all of which were adapted and substantially modified to fit their local needs and collective culture.

3. The Swahili Coast declined after the Portuguese tried to take over Indian Ocean trade and mandate adherance to their superior Euopean whims. It didn’t work, but it did enough damage that the glory days were no more.

Introduction

The Swahili Coast was not a nation or political body in and of itself so much as a related series of trading posts, many of which developed into city-states, up and down the eastern coast of Africa. Unless otherwise specified, the term generally refers to the region during its economic and cultural zenith, from roughly the 12th century to just past the 15th. The Swahili Coast was in some ways a libertarian ideal – a loose but successful association of traders, held together not by a central government or national laws but connected through commerce and mutually beneficial norms which developed more or less organically over the years.

The term “Swahili” is not a designation of race, nationality, or religion, but a description of a specific group of people in a particular place and the language which evolved among them. It’s derived from the Arabic word for “coast” and is often translated as “people of the coast.” “Swahili” refers to both the people and their language – a lingua franca derived from Bantu (an indigenous language family from northern Africa) stirred together with healthy dollops of Arabic, Persian, and a sprinkle or two of whatever else was on hand.

Swahili language and culture evolved as part of a gradual migration to the coast from northern Africa. They were traders from the start, exchanging coastal items like shells and jewelry for agricultural products from the interior. They eventually settled in dozens of distinct communities up and down the coast, many of which became autonomous city-states and grew quite wealthy over time – especially after they began trading with merchants from the Indian Ocean as well as the continent itself.

The Power of Trade

When the Swahili Coast comes up in history class, it’s usually in the context of its role as a “trading network.” Rather than a formal arrangement between nations, trading networks are better understood as a series of regular stops along well-traveled routes. Sometimes stationary marketplaces would evolve along the route; other times traders would simply visit specific merchants or connect with other traders as possible. Like the famous “Silk Road,” what may appear on the map to be a baffling trek across multiple continents more often represented the cumulative effect of hundreds of shorter journeys, back and forth over some segment of the larger network. Long annual journeys were more common sailing along the Swahili Coast than hoofing the mountains and nether regions of the Middle and Far East, but that doesn’t mean every trader hit every post in order before reaching the end and starting back the other way.

Each transaction meant someone had to make a profit. The party who didn’t hoped to quickly sell their purchases at a slight markup themselves. Multiply this by a half-dozen or more exchanges before reaching the final buyer. That’s why for so many years, the majority of things being carted around the known world were “luxury goods” – silk, ivory, porcelain, spices, etc. Traders could only transport so much stuff, and they naturally chose items which were relatively easy to carry and on which a reliable profit could be made, no matter how many times it changed hands.

There was no specific point at which uncoordinated migration eastward suddenly became the “Swahili Coast.” No Grand Opening celebrations marked its connection to previously established trade networks or their role in the onset of the modern world. It evolved over several centuries – no doubt in innumerable fits and starts. Historians have to place it somewhere in history, however, and traditionally that means the “people of the coast” came into their own just as Europe was coming out of the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance. And, since history is about asking the “why” as much as sharing the “what,” there are several generally agreed-upon reasons for this emergence of the Swahili Coast into the larger narrative of world history.

Technology and Innovation

The development (or at least the substantial improvement) of dhows and other sailing vessels were making maritime travel and trade safer and easier, even over great distances. There are several things which make a dhow a dhow, but the two most likely to come up on your standard world history exam are how they were held together and what made them go. First, they were stitched together rather than simply glued or nailed. They were made of wood bound together with various types of cords and fibers. Second, and more noticeably, they had lateen sails. These triangular sails are still in use today, and when properly manipulated allowed boats to effectively sail against the wind – an obvious game-changer, nautically speaking, and a nice metaphor for technology in general.

Dhows had existed in various forms since the Greeks and Romans (although some historians are convinced the Chinese invented them like they did everything else at some point). The important thing to the Swahili Coast, however, was that by the 1500s, Arab sailors had mastered the craft. Even Europe was beginning to catch on and develop its own versions of the technology – “cultural diffusion” in action. Dhows traditionally had one or two sails, but by the 15th century ships were getting substantially larger and able to withstand longer and more onerous journeys. It’s no coincidence that it was around this same time Christopher Columbus was able to reach the “New World” – boats could do that now.

The compass was coming into more popular use as well, again largely thanks to the Islamic world. Yes, the Chinese had invented long before, but like Toto’s “Africa,” ideas sometimes arrive, then fade, before coming back again, bigger and stronger and covered by Weezer.

Another old technology reappearing in new and improved form was the astrolabe, a device so modernized by Muslim astronomers and mathematicians as to be essentially a whole new toy. The astrolabe was a miraculous little device that allowed mere mortals to use the positions of the stars and calculations of various angles to determine the time, their current location, and accurately predict America’s Next Top Model, all from the deck of a sailing vessel in the middle of nowhere. Among other things, the astrolabe allowed Muslim sailors to determine the direction of Mecca from anywhere they happened to be, a major assist in adhering to their religious commitments. It was also, no doubt, a powerful psychological connection to home, allowing users to journey an infinite distance while in some way remaining connected to all they held dear. It wasn’t quite Google Hangouts, but it was leaps and bounds ahead of “maybe my next letter will arrive within the year.”

Environmental and Geographic Conditions

Egypt (up the coast, at the other end of the Red Sea) had been the site of one of mankind’s founding civilizations, largely because the Nile flooded and receded with such wonderful predictability. To Egypt’s east, past the Persian Gulf and south a bit, the Indus River Valley (Harappa, Mohenjo-Daro, etc.) soon followed, largely thanks to the monsoon winds which blew north-northeast (roughly Madagascar to India) every summer and south-southwest (back towards Madagascar) every winter. These same winds were still blowing thousands of years later and made sailing up and down the eastern coast of Africa a breeze. Literally.

Running an assist for the monsoon winds were natural reef barriers and coastal islands which shielded much of the Swahili Coast from the worst seasonal weather and allowed vessels relative safety when operating close to the shoreline. If you zoom in on a map of Africa’s eastern half, you’ll also notice numerous natural harbors which made it much easier for even large ships to dock safely. It’s nice when nature’s all cooperative like that.

Natural Resources

Even before the Indian Ocean developed into one of history’s major trade networks, the migrant Africans who became “people of the coast” were aided by regular rains and plentiful seafood. The interior of Africa provided for the rest of their needs, and as it turned out, offered plenty of goodies desired by the rest of the known world at the time as well. Swahili traders allowed goods to move both directions, with the traders and local rulers of Swahili city-states profiting both ways.

From the interior of Africa came ivory, gold, copper, various woods, incense, spices, tortoise shells, animal skins, etc. There was an early version of the slave trade emanating from Africa long before the discovery of the New World and the large-scale plantation version familiar to most students. This slave trade was later dwarfed by the extent to which Europe took the idea and ran with it, but at the time it was nevertheless significant. Popular imports into Africa from the Indian Ocean included glassware and pottery, jewelry, paper, paints, books, gunpowder, pointy weapons, silk, and other precious fabrics – the same things everyone else who could afford them wanted to buy.

Trading Partners

It doesn’t much matter what goods you have to trade or how efficiently you’re able to transport them if you don’t have people to trade with. As with most things throughout history, the Swahili Coast did not develop in isolation. Traders from the Arabic world, parts of Europe, and beyond, interacted with the Swahili regularly and at times intimately. It was not unusual for traders to stay in local Swahili homes while waiting for the proper winds to take them on their way, often for weeks or even months. The cultural and other exchanges made possible by such extended time together exceeded even those facilitated by trade. It didn’t hurt when they’d occasionally marry or otherwise choose to mingle genetic codes.

Barter remained common throughout the active life of the Swahili Coast, but several participating city-states developed their own coinage as well. Other currencies were often accepted, depending on what was considered economically viable at the time. Even cowrie shells could be used, like bottle caps in the post-Apocalyptic Fallout video games, or paper money in the modern United States, currency can be entirely symbolic and still quite effective as long as those exchanging it more-or-less agree on its value. Shared economic logistics, however flexible, were essential for trade to flourish. Without them, we’re not studying the Swahili Coast five centuries later.

The Syncretic Coast

It’s worth noting that no one element specifically caused or resulted from the others. The technology enabled the trade, sure – but the trade also pushed forward the technology. The city-states were possible because of environmental conditions and flourished because of trade, but trade flourished largely because there were city-states there, made possible by the natural environment, which in turn was forever changed by the development of city-states and trade. Once the various exchanges begin, it’s difficult to separate the fudge from the ice cream from the peanut butter from the sprinkles. But then, who would want to?

The Swahili Coast provides a wonderful example of not only linguistic evolution but cultural diffusion in general. Traditional African cultures (plural) eventually encountered Muslim traders (and maybe a few Sufis) and meshed to create a uniquely African form of Islam. As traders from the Arabic world and parts of Europe or the East continued to interact up and down the coast, languages were mingled, but so were technologies, cultures, diseases, economics, and genetics (because sailors get lonely). Over time, something unique and new was born, while each of its constituent elements remained somehow familiar, even traditional.

By their heyday in the 12th – 15th centuries, the Swahili Coast was almost universally Islamic, although in many cases they retained elements of native religions as well (particularly when it came to appeasing spirits who brought on illnesses or personal misfortunes or various forms of ancestor worship). They built mosques, but with architectural features unique to the Swahili. This sense of spiritual community (of “ummah”) further strengthened the informal unity of the Swahili Coast and helped guide how business was conducted.

The typical Swahili city-state had some form of sultan, a Muslim sovereign who shared in the profits and acted as “head of state” when needed, although it’s uncertain just how much power sultans actually held in contrast to local merchants. The available evidence suggests that wealthy merchants acted as advisors to the sultan and held other government offices, which would indicate that while local government may have regulated trade, trade in turn regulated local government. Swahili sultanates were thus economic offices as much as a political positions. Given the lack of clear lines between the secular and the supernatural in Islamic tradition, the sultan most likely held religious authority as well. The realities of the Swahili Coast meant none of these roles worked quite like they did anywhere else. Instead, they borrowed what they needed from those around them, mixed it with the parts they retained from their own forebears, and made it work for them. Syncretism at its finest.

Decline of the Swahili Coast

Most history students vaguely remember Vasco de Gama. He was the Portuguese explorer who eventually managed to round the southern tip of Africa and sail up to India via the Indian Ocean. Only a few years after Columbus thought he’d reached it by going west (Columbus never accepted that he’d run into a completely different continent), de Gama actually connected Europe with Asia via water, allowing trade and periodic conquest on a scale never before possible.

Unfortunately, like most European powers at the time (and the Portuguese were one of the biggies), the Portuguese approach to Indian Ocean trade was the same as their approach to pretty much everything else. Take it over, destroy anything or anyone not useful or sufficiently servile, and when it’s all broken, exhausted, and useless, thank God for the glorious harvest and move on. (Hence the glaring lack of idioms like “as subtle as the Portuguese” or “thinking long-term like a European.”) They weren’t able to actually subdue the Swahili or the Indian Ocean, but they did muck things up enough that it was never quite the same.

A few centuries later, eastern Africa was caught up in the slave trade on a much larger scale. Eventually it was divvied up with the rest of the continent as part of the “Scramble for Africa” in the 19th century. Swahili traders were still involved here and there, but never again as the autonomous and interesting players they’d been.