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When we think of Romans, Julius Caesar or Constantine might spring to mind. But what was life like for everyday folk, those who gazed up at the palace rather than looking out from within its walls? In this book, Jeremy Hartnett offers a detailed view of an average Roman, an individual named Flavius Agricola. Though Flavius was only a generation or two removed from slavery, his successful life emerges from his careful commemoration in death: a poetic epitaph and life-sized marble portrait showing him reclining at table. This ensemble not only enables Hartnett to reconstruct Flavius' biography, as well as his wife's, but also permits a nuanced exploration of many aspects of Roman life, such as dining, sex, worship of foreign deities, gender, bodily display, cultural literacy, religious experience, blended families, and visiting the dead at their tombs. Teasing provocative questions from this ensemble, Hartnett also recounts the monument's scandalous discovery and extraordinary afterlife over the centuries.
During the past 2,000 years, Christianity has evolved from a small group of fishermen recruited on the Sea of Galilee to become the world’s oldest continuously operated religious institution and largest Abrahamic religion. Of all the Christian denominations, including Protestantism and Orthodox Christianity, Roman Catholicism remains the largest denomination.1 In 2018, the population of practicing Catholics was equivalent to the population of the People’s Republic of China, or 1.33 billion adherents. Traditionally Europeans dominated the church (21.5 percent). However, the majority of global Catholics are now composed of North and South Americans (48.3 percent), while the fastest growing communities are in Africa, at more than 17 percent.
The Holy Places of Jerusalem's Old City are among the most contested sites in the world and the 'ground zero' of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Tensions regarding control are rooted in misperceptions over the status of the sites, the role of external bodies such as religious organizations and civil society, and misunderstanding regarding the political roles of the many actors associated with the sites. In this volume, Marshall J. Breger and Leonard M. Hammer clarify a complex and fraught situation by providing insight into the laws and rules pertaining to Jerusalem's holy sites. Providing a compendium of important legal sources and broad-form policy analysis, they show how laws pertaining to Holy Places have been implemented and engaged. The book weaves aspects of history, politics, and religion that have played a role in creation and identification of the 'law.' It also offers solutions for solving some of the central challenges related to the creation, control, and use of Holy Places in Jerusalem.
This chapter focuses on ideology and collaborationism. The first section suggests that in the autumn of 1940, Baudouin sought to develop a culturally driven ideological alternative to collaboration with Nazi Germany. The second section explores the French Fascists’ lack of support for collaborationism with Italy. The absence of sustained collaboration with Rome meant that there was limited scope for Vichy to slip from involuntary to voluntary collaboration. The relationship between state collaboration and collaborationism with Fascist Italy was, therefore, virtually the opposite of that with Nazi Germany. While short-lived and limited in nature, it was Vichy that led attempts to forge ideological collaboration with Rome rather than the French Fascists. And while collaborationists continued to press for greater collaborationism with the Nazis after the full occupation of France deepened state collaboration with Berlin, Vichy’s pursuit of state collaboration with Rome lasted longer than any pursuit of collaborationism.
What do the religious institutional structures look like in Catholicism and Sunni Islam? In order to trace how religious institutional structures may shape the early evolutions of religious parties, this chapter explores the historical development of structures of religious authority and how they looked when religious parties arose. The focus of the analysis for each religion varies to reflect the historical trajectories of their religious institutions and what such different trajectories mean for the analytical narrative of this book. The analysis proceeds in chronological order and begins with Catholicism to be followed by Sunni Islam. In the case of Catholicism, the focus is less on the evolution of religious institutions and more on how divergence from orthodoxy and orthopraxy are handled within the Catholic Church. As the religious authority in Catholicism, the Church’s handling of divergences is key to understanding how it dealt with the rise of Catholic parties. In the case of Sunni Islam, the focus remains on the historical evolution of religious authority, paying close attention to the parameters of major shifts in the eleventh and early twentieth centuries.
In Chapter 5, I explore Mendonça’s court case in the Vatican and argue that liberation of the enslaved Africans in Brazil, Portugal and Spain was part of a wider Atlantic question. By allying himself with these different constituencies in the Atlantic, Mendonça emphasised that his call for freedom was universal – abolition should go beyond the African frontier to include New Christians and Indigenous Americans. Mendonça’s evidence-based court case challenged the established assertion that Africa was a slaving society that already practised and willingly aided the European Atlantic slave trade. His evidence demonstrated how the mechanics of the Atlantic slave trade operated in Africa, and how violence was used as a strategy for maintaining the institution of slavery. The accused were the Vatican and the Italian, Portuguese, and the Spanish political governing authorities, and Mendonça brought together African accusers from different organisations, confraternities and interest groups. This is a significant reinterpretation of slavery and abolition, revealing a new understandings of Mendonça’s criminal court case in the Vatican as a Black Atlantic abolition movement.
Chapter 6 investigates the debate about the freedom of enslaved Africans in the light of the tussle between Mendonça, his family and the Portuguese Overseas Council. The chapter examines the Crown’s slave legislation of 18 March 1684, seeing it as a direct response to Mendonça’s court case in the Vatican. It looks at the sphere of the Overseas Council’s jurisdiction in relation to the internal affairs of the kingdom, that is, Portugal, and its attempt to overturn Mendonça’s court case verdict in the Vatican via a discreet anonymous letter. It examines how Mendonça marshalled his legal arguments to uphold the Vatican’s verdict . The chapter argues that the court case was a tussle between Philipe Hari I and João Hari II of the House of Ndongo and the Overseas Council, which vetoed a decision that Philipe Hari I would continue payment of baculamento, that is, make tax payments in enslaved people. I contend that Mendonça, in taking his criminal court case to the Vatican, sought not only the abolition of African slavery and liberty for Indigenous Americans and New Christians, but also to shake off the burden of his own family’s involvement in the slave trade.
This groundbreaking study tells the story of the highly organised, international legal court case for the abolition of slavery spearheaded by Prince Lourenço da Silva Mendonça in the seventeenth century. The case, presented before the Vatican, called for the freedom of all enslaved people and other oppressed groups. This included New Christians (Jews converted to Christianity) and Indigenous Americans in the Atlantic World, and Black Christians from confraternities in Angola, Brazil, Portugal and Spain. Abolition debate is generally believed to have been dominated by white Europeans in the eighteenth century. By centring African agency, José Lingna Nafafé offers a new perspective on the abolition movement, showing, for the first time, how the legal debate was begun not by Europeans, but by Africans. In the first book of its kind, Lingna Nafafé underscores the exceptionally complex nature of the African liberation struggle, and demystifies the common knowledge and accepted wisdom surrounding African slavery.
Chapter 7, “Matters of Faith: Catholic Intelligentsia and the Church,” asks how Catholics behaved in Warsaw and why. Roman Catholicism was the religion of the majority of Varsovians and had played an important role in the development of the Polish national project. In the absence of a Polish government, the Church provided a potential locus of authority for Poles. Warsaw’s priests drew particular negative attention from the Nazi occupation for their potential influence and they were viciously persecuted, imprisoned, and often sent to the concentration camp at Dachau. Nevertheless, leaders of the Church, from the pope in Rome to local bishops, were hesitant to provide guidance, support Nazi occupation, or encourage opposition to it. Despite the lack of a top-down Catholic policy, this chapter argues that individual priests and lay Catholic leaders were motivated by their religious faith to form everything from charities to a postwar clerical state. Crucial among Catholics was the question of the developing Holocaust and the role of Polish Jews in Polish Catholic society, which sharply divided them.
This chapter focuses firstly on the expansion of internment and confinement between 1915 and the beginning of 1917 in Europe and outside it. It traces the differences among the various belligerents in the treatment of enemy aliens, the living conditions in the camps, and the national, gender and generational composition of the inmates. It also concentrates on the one hand on the popular pressure in support of the wholesale internment of enemy aliens and, on the other, on the broadening of the humanitarian activities pursued by international non-governmental organization such as the International Committee of the Red Cross that actively promoted the exchange of prisoners of war and civilian internees. The second part of the chapter addresses the spread of a nationalistic economic discourse that boosted the intensification of the economic war and the attack on enemy aliens' property with the creation of new state bureaucracies and the beginning of the liquidation of sequestered assets. The chapter shows how the capacity of the state to enforce such policies was continuously put to the test by the effect of the war on politics and by its military evolution.
Historical research acknowledges only cursorily the Catholic contribution to eugenics. Yet there is a substantial link between Catholic discourses on morality and the emergence of Italian eugenics. In this essay I argue that sexual normalisation was a key source of consensus. Masculine and patriarchal values strengthened the strategic collaboration between Fascist demographic policies, the Italian interpretation of eugenics, and Catholic doctrine. I draw on archival and printed material to show that the control of public morality and the support for reproduction met both Catholic and Fascist interests. In particular, I focus on the alliance between the State and the Catholic Church working against ‘the contraceptive mentality’. Mussolini wanted to stimulate religious sentiment as a basis for the fight against depopulation. The Catholic Church desired a set of laws against immorality, birth control and abortion. In this way, Fascism and the Catholic Church found a solid cultural agreement around restoring traditional mores, patriarchal values, and gender hierarchy.
The Vatican was one of the seminal Cold Warriors, rejecting communism as early as the 1840s. It had hoped for the “containment” of Soviet-style expansionism into Europe during World War II, i.e. even before the United States adopted that term into its official Cold War vocabulary in 1946-47. However, the Vatican realized by the late 1950s that ideological rigidity damaged its own interest—ensuring the continued existence of functional churches behind the Iron Curtain. Mainly for this reason, it decided to engage with the communist world in the 1960s, although its policies were fraught with political danger and disappointments. Its major success in the European Cold War—the restoration of the Polish Church to independence—only occurred in the context of détente in German-German and European affairs in the early 1970s.
In this essay, I argue that despite the Vatican’s condemnation of Nazi racism as an anti-Christian ideology, some Catholic sectors in Fascist Italy were not impervious to anti-semitic and racial prejudices. Looking at the discussion on race and anti-semitism in the propaganda of clerical Fascism and its simultaneous echo in Church discourses, this research delves deeper into the formation of a specific Catholic trend of racial anti-semitism that excluded Jews from a religiously and ethnically homogeneous definition of the Italian nation. A significant part of the propagandists of clerical Fascism attempted to define a racial and anti-semitic narrative that could be suitable for both Fascist racism and Italian Catholic culture. I examine the Catholic appropriation of racial anti-semitism on a broad spectrum of positions, ranging from Catholics who only flirted with racialist rhetoric to those who dismissed the transformative value of conversion because of alleged racial barriers. Challenging the traditional distinction between Christian anti-Judaism and modern anti-semitism, the examples under examination demonstrate the entanglement of religious and racial arguments in the shaping of a ‘Jewish race’ that was considered foreign to the italianità celebrated by the regime.
Though the new Eastern feast of the Annunciation was adopted in the Latin West in the course of late seventh century, only one basilica developed in its liturgy a theological rationale for the new feast. The basilica was Saint Peter's on the Vatican. The liturgy of Saint Peter's on the Vatican was in the care of monks of Saint Martin. In Alfarano's plan, the chapel of the monastery is marked: just outside the western end of the basilica, slightly to the south of the apse. The author's example of how the liturgy at Saint Peter's looked out to a wider world beyond Rome is the celebration of All Saints in the chapel in front of the martyrium of Saint Peter, to the south side of the nave, in parte virorum. Saint Peter was chief of the apostles, who had been told by Christ to 'go therefore, teach ye all nations'.
This article analyses the parallels between the role played by the Church, first during the Crisis of the Liberal State in the early twentieth century and then during the transition from the Christian Democratic regime to the ‘bi-polar’ Second Republic more than 70 years later. It explores both the particular, contingent forces at work in each, and the underlying explanations as to why the Church was able to successfully exploit these two processes of transition in the political history of Italy to its advantage. It concludes by arguing that the experience of these two crises demonstrates that the Church is not only a powerful force in Italian civil society but also effectively ‘a state within a state’ in relation to the functioning of Italy's political structures.
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