Category: Ethnic and Religious Diversity in Spain

The essay from Porter about Fez’s cultural heritage goes back to the same idea of authority that has popped up all semester. Who has the authority to determine what should be preserved as Fez’s “heritage”? How does that idea of heritage match up with – or contradict – the historical and contemporary culture? Porter points out how the state attempts to erase the Sousi and other rural demographics from the notion of Fez’s cultural heritage, despite them continuing to be overwhelmingly active in preserving that heritage. Where the Sousi are active participants, they are considered almost as pseudo-Fassi, replacements that are trained to act properly according to Fez’s heritage, rather than acknowledging their rural background as a part of Fez’s culture.

The desire for European converts to Islam and their children to so strongly separate themselves from Moroccan Muslims, or any other Islamic culture, is very clear and very uncomfortable to face. I was really stuck on the notion of a “pure Islam” which was free from culture and tradition, when in almost any religion, culture and tradition are what makes the religion what it is. You can’t divorce religion from culture, because everything is informed by culture, and nothing is made in a vacuum. It is disconcerting that they can be so oblivious of the influence of culture on the Islam that they practice, whether it is the Spanish culture around them, the Moroccan immigrant culture which they mimic for authenticity, or they Arab cultures from which the religion came. For them to deny the heritage of the religion that they chose, claiming that their practice is more pure and righteous than that of other Muslims, speaks towards racism and classism against the Moroccan immigrants. They want to associate themselves with Granadan culture, often owning businesses that bolster the local tourist industries, but they claim that the culture is separate from the religion that they practice. What are they practicing, if not tradition and culture?

The “Marketing Convivencia” article further supported the notion that we have been discussing of molding history to create a curated public image. Just as the myth of a historically Christian Spain has been used to shape national identity, the history of Spain’s Jews has been revamped and retold, this time with the purpose of enticing and impressing foreign tourists. Spain developed tours specifically to market cities that once held vibrant Sephardic Jewish communities. However, they do not go on to elaborate what happened to those communities, or how Spain’s Jews live today. They market to foreign Jewish tourists, inviting them to come and view their own history and the culture of the past, all while ignoring the needs of the Jews who are still their. I was particularly struck by this quote: “While the museum director lamented the lack of space they could dedicate to the exhibition of (past) Jewish life in Spain, the Jewish community petitioned for permission to utilize either this synagogue or Santa Maria la Blanca (a second Toldeo synagogue that was transformed into a church in the fifteenth century) for Jewish religious ritual.” The community’s own resources were being taken away from them in the present in order to put the past on display for tourists.

This week’s readings provided a good look into the social role that religion plays, both contemporarily and in the retelling of history. Kamen goes over the secondary, social role that Catholicism played in Spain’s Golden Age. As he puts it, “Religious practice was traditional and sociable rather than theological,” (78). People had some relationship with the Church, and that relationship helped them categorize themselves socially and culturally, but they did not know, understand, or hold the Christian beliefs that priests hoped they would. Religious identity functioned, in this case, to define who was “us” and who was “them”. They were Catholics insomuch as it separated them from the Muslims and Jews who were not. The myth of Christian Spain provided a similar function as a social identifier for Spaniards from the 19th century on. The version of Spanish history that tells of a firmly and steadfastly Christian Spain use that Christian identity to separate themselves as true Spaniards, separate from the descendants of Sephardic Jews and Moriscos that try to claim a share in that identity. By insisting on the myth of Christian Spain as a true telling of history, these Spaniards set Christian identity as a stipulation in assuming Spanish identity, using religion to establish an “us” and a “them”.

Reading the pieces on architecture reminded me of an executive order that was drafted earlier this year, titled “Make Federal Buildings Beautiful Again.” This order would mandate future federal buildings to be built in the same Greek and Roman inspired style as the White House. While there are genuine criticisms of this order and how it would dampen architectural creativity and dismiss the knowledge and understanding of design and architecture that the experts hold. But some of the comments I heard from people were that they didn’t understand the point of the order, it just seemed like a trivial and wasteful endeavor. But, while I don’t support the order itself, it is not historically unprecedented. Rulers throughout history have used architecture as a means to establish a consistent authority and culture. Architecture has such a strong influence on how we feel in a space. It can inspire, intimidate, calm, and evoke so many more emotions in those who encounter it. This is what occurred in al-Andalus, as various architectural styles conveyed different political meanings as to who was in power, where their power originated, and the values that they hold.

I immediately noticed that the excerpt from Constable from Judah ha-Levi were found in the Cairo Geniza, a testament to the vast network of trade, culture, and knowledge that al-Andalus was a part of. Cairo was an economic and cultural hub of the medieval Mediterranean networks, and the Geniza manuscripts give us a glimpse into that network. Judah ha-Levi clearly was well integrated in the Jewish Mediterranean network, but the Jews were not the only ones interacting and sharing ideas. Menocal tells us about Petrus Alfonsi, born Jewish in a Muslim-ruled city, who converted to Christianity and moved out of Spain and further into Europe. It was in London where he gained fame for his “conventional Arabic education in the sciences, philosophy, and rhetoric,” (149). It was not just the knowledge of al-Andalus that Petrus Alfonsi brought into northern European circles, but also the ways of thinking and sharing information. His Priestly Tales inspired a new form of storytelling in Europe. And Alfonsi was not the only Andalusian who inspired new thought in Latin Europe. Averroes commentaries on Aristotle, controversial as they were within the Church, pushed Europeans to consider reason and faith in a new light. All of these figures – Judah ha-Levi, Petrus Alfonsi, and Averroes – influenced not only the networks of communities within the Iberian Peninsula, but spread their ideas and their own reputations throughout the Mediterranean and European worlds.

There was a line in Menocal, on page 74, that reflects well on the connection of language and identity: “Alvarus could not quite bring himself to say aloud what he knew to be true: how thin the line might be between the seduction of a vital secular culture, of a language alive and powerful enough to speak to God and to a man’s beloved, and the religion to which such a language and culture were so intimately tied.” This line emphasizes the role of language in culture, how it was strong enough to sway people away from the cultural identity that they were born into. The Christians of Spain who were drawn to the Arabic language developed a new identity, called Mozarabics. This identity formed largely around the language and the culture that the language built. At the same time, however, shared language does not necessitate shared identity. Identity is larger than that, shown by the fact that Mozarabic and Muslim remained separate identities, despite sharing language and aspects of culture with one another.

Language’s role in identity can also be seen among the Jews of Spain, whose identity and culture were revitalized by the influence of Arabic language and culture. The use of Arabic in poetry and literature inspired a new use of Hebrew for the same purposes, creating a new identity and culture for Spanish Jews. Language and the ways that it is used change the way that people can communicate and express, and forms of expression factor strongly in people’s identities.

Looking at Abraham ibn Daud’s summary of the career of Samuel ha-Nagid, it seems that religion identity is far more significant than religious belief or practice on its own. Religious identity signified a person’s background and the community to which they hold attachments. In Samuel ibn Naghrela’s case, this can be seen when ibn al-‘Arif asks who wrote letters from his household, and he is told that they were written by “A certain Jew of the community of Cordoba.” Religious identity here is a way of recognizing the community which Samuel came from, more than a statement on his morals, beliefs, or practices. When Samuel rose to the position of nagid, he invested in his religious community across the Mediterranean. It is in this position of power that his religion is most strongly portrayed in this passage from Sefer ha-Qabbalah. Before this, ibn Daud mainly focuses on Samuel’s rise to political power, in which his identity as a Jew is just a statement on his background. Once he is in power, however, ibn Daud records his contributions to the religious education and activities of his coreligionists. Ibn Daud mentions that Samuel had earned “the crown of Torah” among others, implying that Samuel had invested just as heavily in his own religious education as in that of other students.

Menocal’s book is very focused on a chronological recounting of power. Whether it was political, technological, or cultural, she offers in her first chapters an overview of which rulers and cities held significance in their time. Kamen, on the other hand, is concerned with identity, and how people choose to understand the past. In speaking of Catalonia, he writes “In the earlier phase, the refrain among Catalanists had been ‘Catalonia is the patria, Spain is the nation.’ In the later phase, the refrain was: ‘Catalonia is the nation, Spain is the state.’” (Kamen 25). Kamen gives less of an idea, in this chapter at least, of what events occurred on the Iberian Peninsula, but rather how their various identities developed in relation to one another, and how it is significant that many of these identities are based on historical myths. While the history may be myth, the identities that have developed are very real to this day. Menocal, contrastingly, opens her book with a brief history of power, rather than identity, in Spain.