The Kingmakers – The Rise and Fall of the Praetorian Guard

As Augustus became the first Roman Emperor in 27 BC, many changes came to the government, among which was the establishment of an imperial bodyguard – called the Praetorian Guard.  The Praetorians were considered among the most elite units of the Roman military, but their existence posed a few problems for the emperors, for the Praetorians were typically more loyal to their own officers than they were to the emperor.

Augustus’ successor, Tiberius, was wisely wary of the Praetorians.  He recognized them as his predecessor’s men and reduced their numbers, moving their quarters outside the city limits of Rome.  Tiberius’ contemporaries dismissed him as paranoid (and they were right about his being too paranoid, just not on this point), but Tiberius’ successor, Caligula, would prove him right on the Praetorian Guard.

Now, there were a lot of things wrong with Caligula, so maybe it’s not really fair to blame the Praetorians for murdering him.  After all, the man who calls himself a god, turns the palace into a brothel, deliberately wastes money on things, murders for amusement, and takes a romantic interest in his sister is probably not the sort of guy who should be running the most powerful country in the world.  Even despite all these things, the Praetorians didn’t say anything.  They drew the line at Caligula wanting to make his horse (in whom he allegedly also had a romantic interest) a consul, which would have made the animal their commanding officer – at least in name.  Caligula was talked down from making his horse a consul, settling for making it a priest (even the emperor has to compromise), but the damage to his relationship with the military, and particularly the Praetorians, had already been irreparably damaged.  The Praetorians murdered Caligula on January 24, 41 AD, setting a dangerous precedent, for the emperors they would later murder were not all horse-lovers (okay, one of them was, but they didn’t technically murder him).

The Praetorians put Caligula’s not insane uncle Claudius on the throne after him, and according to most historians, it was a decent choice.  Problems arose again when Claudius’ successor, Nero, killed his mother and started blaming the Great Fire of Rome on Christians (it pretty clearly wasn’t their fault).  Rumors of horse-loving started floating around again, and the Praetorians abandoned Nero as Galba revolted in 68 AD.  The following “Year of the Four Emperors” saw the Praetorians help Otho overthrow Galba after he had seized power, only to see Otho overthrown by Vitellius and his own army.  Vitellius wised up to the Praetorians and disbanded them, replacing them entirely with his own men.  The problem was that the Praetorians then went and joined Vespasian, another general who was staging a revolt (joke’s on you, Vitellius).  Vespasian took power in 69 and reduced the size of the Praetorian Guard again, placing his son Titus in charge as Praetorian Prefect.  Titus became emperor after his father, but he passed away a couple of years after a remarkably unhappy reign, which saw some dispute as to who would be his successor.

The Praetorian Guard solved this dispute by putting Domitian, Titus’ brother, on the throne, only to have some level of involvement in his murder fifteen years later (they at least didn’t seem to interested in preventing it).  The next handful of emperors are commonly referred to as the “Five Good Emperors” and symbolize the peak of the Roman Empire.  From 96 to 177, there was essentially no disputing the pre-eminence of the Empire, but after Marcus Aurelius’ death, his son, Commodus took the throne.

Dangit, Joaquin.  The Empire had a good thing going.

So… Commodus was either crazy or just a jerk.  Either way, the Praetorians weren’t fans of the guy who insists on being called, “Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus Augustus Herculeus Romanus Exsuperatorius Amazonius Invictus Felix Pius.”  It’s a mouthful, and it’s also hard to only refer to someone with pronouns to avoid having to say a name that long.  When that guy starts telling people he’s a demigod and likes to fight rigged gladiatorial battles, you draw the line.  The Praetorian Prefect Laetius helped murder Commodus in 192, whereupon Pertinax was put in office.  The Praetorians decided they didn’t like Pertinax a few months later and auctioned (yes, auctioned) off the throne to Didius Julianus.  They killed him three months later, but before they could sell the throne again, the Spanish-born general Septimus Severus took the throne by force and replaced the Praetorians with his own guys (wise move, Septimus).  Septimus Severus was the first non-Roman to have taken the throne by force, and you know, the Romans didn’t seem too upset about it after having had good old “Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus Augustus Herculeus Romanus Exsuperatorius Amazonius Invictus Felix Pius” and the guy who bought the throne  in power for the last fifteen years.

Septimus Severus was better than his predecessors, but he still likely contributed to the Crisis of the 3rd Century, in which the Roman economy collapsed and Germanic tribesmen ravaged the frontiers with increasing impunity.  The crisis ended with the rise of the emperor Diocletian, who reorganized  the Empire into four main administrative areas in a system called the Tetrarchy.  It’s hard to deny that Diocletian was a turning point for the Empire, and under him, the Praetorian Guard began their final decline while the Empire recovered.  Diocletian removed the Praetorians from the palace in 284, and by the time of his abdication in 305 (the only Roman Emperor to do so), the Praetorians were simply a part of the city guard in Rome.  The following year, the son of the lieutenant emperor in the West, Maxentius, brought the Praetorians back one last time, as he contested the succession of Constantius Chlorus as Western Emperor.  After Maxentius’ defeat at the hands of Constantius Chlorus’ son, Constantine, at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in 312, Constantine marched into Rome and disbanded the Praetorian Guard permanently.

A definition of insanity is “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result,” and the dogged commitment to having the Praetorian Guard as the personal protectors of the Emperor certainly fit this definition.  Look, I’m no expert on this, but if the Secret Service murdered several Presidents in a row, maybe we would try something else, but the logic seems to have been that the Empire was doing so well in spite of the Praetorians, who eventually integrated themselves into the imperial tradition itself, that it was better just to live with them than to risk the unknown consequences of dissolving the unit.  In retrospect, a Roman Empire without the Praetorians might not have had to endure the Crisis of the 3rd Century, which irreversibly damaged the Empire.  Hypotheticals aren’t the business of the responsible historian, but it’s fair to wonder as to what might have occurred without the Praetorians, or if Vespasian would have simply removed them after the Year of the Four Emperors, rather than trying to reform the corrupt institution.

The Shi’a-Sunni Split, Part 1

So this is a delicate subject, and I’m going to try to treat it as such, but before I start, I should note that I am not a Muslim.  As a result, many of my comments will perhaps seem critical of the faith.  Do not misconstrue it as such, but simply know that this is my view of the matter, and I find that there is a concerning lack of understanding of how and why this split happened.  Today, we’re just going to be laying the groundwork for the split, going through the Battle of the Camel (you’ll know what that means by the end) and covering some basics of Islamic theology such as the Umma.  By the end of this series hopefully you’ll understand the basics of the Shi’ite-Sunni split, as well as a little about other major groups such as the Ibadi and Sufi.  A short disclaimer here, I learned most of what I know of Islam from Sunnis, and what I know of the Shi’a comes from my own research.  As a result, I might phrase things in a way that sounds a little Sunni-esque.  This is not intentional, it’s just the way I learned it.  There will be no images (aside from one diagram) used for these posts out of respect for the Islamic faith.

So, let’s begin.  Islam teaches about much of what would be considered the Judeo-Christian Old Testament.  Adam, Noah, Abraham, and others are all mentioned in the Qu’ran, and Muhammad, in many ways, viewed himself as the last in a succession of prophets going back to more or less the creation of man.  On the other hand, Muhammad viewed himself quite differently than the others, for it was his message by which people would be saved.  As a result, all Muslims recite the Shahada “the testimonial word,” that declares, “There is no god but God; Muhammad is the messenger of God.”  Typically, the Muslim god is called “Allah” in English, but Allah simply means “God” in Arabic.  From here on out, I’ll be using Allah to reference the Muslim deity.

Along with Shahada, Sunnis believe Muhammad mandated four other principal teachings, which are today known as the “Five Pillars of Islam.”  These are:

Shahada.  An almost mantra-like expression of faith, upon which the believer is to meditate.  This is the first step one takes in order to become a Muslim.

Salat.  This is the Islamic tradition of prayer, which consists of five daily prayers – Fajr, Dhuhr, ‘Asr, Maghrib, and ‘Isha.  These prayers may be performed anywhere, but if available, prayer in a mosque is best.

Zakat.  One of the originally most attractive features about Islam is charity.  Today, Muslims donate more to charity than any other active faith, and in the highly stratified society that Muhammad presented his message in, this resonated with people.  Like Salat, Zakat breaks down into five basic parts: on must declare one’s to Allah his intent to give, the zakat must be given on the day it is due, afterwards one may not exaggerate one’s spending, the giver must give zakat according to what he has, and the zakat must be given in the place where one earned it.

Sawm: Sawm handles the entire Muslim diet, but specifically it refers to ritual fasting, particularly during the month of Ramadan.  This year, Ramadan will start on June 6 and will continue until July 5.  During Ramadan, Muslims may not eat while the sun is still up, although special exceptions are granted by most groups to diabetics, nursing mothers, the old and infirm, etc.

Hajj: Pilgrimage to Mecca.  This is to be done during the month of Dhu al-Hijjah (will be September 2 to October 2 in 2016), and every Muslim is obliged to do this at least once in their life.  Once within a certain distance of Mecca, the traveler will don the Ihram a simple garment of two white sheets.  Whilst in Mecca, one walks around the Kaaba seven times, touches the Black Stone known as Istilam and symbolically “stones the devil.”

Now, non-Sunnis might phrase the Five Pillars differently, but pretty much none of them would dispute that the Five Pillars are good things to do.  Please note that the Five Pillars of Islam are not listed in the Qu’ran.

Shi’a promotes an alternative set of pillars, which are more theological in nature rather than practical.  Most Shi’ites would say that you need to understand these five tenants before practicing the five Sunni pillars, called Usul-e-Deen.

1. Tawheed: The Oneness of Allah.  This one’s pretty self-explanatory.
2. ‘Adl: The Justice of Allah.  Also, not hard.
3. Nabuwat: Prophethood/Apostleship.  In essence, this is about the nature of the succession of prophets all the way down to Muhammad.
4. Imamat: Leadership (more on this next time, but this is the first difference between Shi’a and Sunni)
5. Mi’ad: The Day of Judgment.  Shi’ites do not believe that they will ever see God.  This is a somewhat contentious issue.

From there, a Muslim may practice Islam with the ten Furu’-e-Deen, which includes the Sunni Five Pillars.  For the sake of brevity, I won’t go into all those, because we have a little history to get to.

Anyway, one of Muhammad’s most attractive teachings was the Umma – that when one becomes a Muslim, one’s old identity is gone and one is absorbed into the new tribe and nation of Allah.  For a man from arguably the most powerful Arab tribe (the Quraysh) to offer membership to all in his tribe was revolutionary, and although Arab tribal identity did not evaporate overnight (largely due to some events we’ll cover next time), Islam and the Umma offered something that the traditional faiths could not – unity.

After Muhammad died, people began to realize that he hadn’t really left much of a succession plan.  Like I said before, this is not meant to be a critique of Muhammad; it’s just an observation.  Abu Bakr, Muhammad’s good friend, became the first Caliph in 632, upon the Prophet’s death, but he died two years later, leaving the Caliphate to Umar.  Under Umar, Islam experienced its most rapid growth, sweeping over Palestine and Egypt, but upon his death in 644, it was less clear as to who should be the new Caliph.  Ali ibn Abi Talib was Muhammad’s cousin and son-in-law, but he was passed over for Uthman ibn Affan.  Uthman, fair or not, was increasingly viewed as nepotistic, and on July 17, 656, he was murdered by a mob of protestors.

Muhammad, Uthman, and Ali’s Family Tree.  Their names are in purple.

What followed is known as the First Fitna.  After the death of Uthman, the Umayyad clan desired to keep the Caliphate within their line.  Ali, however, contended that the Banu Hashim clan (both his and Muhammad’s clan) held the superior claim.  Muawiyah, the de facto leader of the Umayyads, viewed Ali as having been complicit in the death of Uthman.  While Muawiyah assembled his forces in Syria, Aisha, Muhammad’s widow, took an army of 30,000 to Basra, where she was met by Ali.  In the ensuing battle, Aisha was counseled to mount the camel and ride through the battle (hence the name “Battle of the Camel” to get the men to stop fighting one another.  Aisha’s forces crowded around the camel to keep their leader safe, but Ali’s forces managed to cut the back legs of the camel, and Aisha fell from her mount.  She fled, only to be captured by Ali.

Ali pardoned her, but Aisha would never again involve herself in politics.  Although the situation seemed to have calmed itself, the lines had already been drawn between to camps in the Islamic world.  The full Shi’ite-Sunni split had not yet fully begun, but the gap between the two factions could not be resewn.

To be continued… 🙂

The Robber Council and the Monophysite Controversy

With the legalization of Christianity under Constantine I and its subsequent transformation into an organized religion at the Council of Nicaea in 325, Christian doctrine came under more intense scrutiny and debate than ever before; unfortunately, the people making the decisions regarding doctrine were not always the best-versed theologians themselves.  This was mostly because the Emperor was regarded as a spiritual leader, subject to the authority of no cleric.

When Theodosius II began his solo reign in 416, the church was experiencing a number of controversies regarding the nature of Jesus, and his appointment of Nestorius as Patriarch of Constantinople only worsened matters.  Theodosius was no theologian, and, with a certain interpretation of his life, was not very intelligent in general.  While travelling in Syria, he heard Nestorius’ preaching and was very impressed, so upon the death of Sisinnus, the old Patriarch, Theodosius appointed the charismatic Nestorius.  Nestorius, as it turned out, had many unorthodox beliefs – including his belief that Jesus was not actually the Son of God.  Rather, he posited that the Son of God and Jesus – a normal guy – were simply united in the same body, and, when necessary, the Son of God would take over.  Most of the time, though, Jesus was simply doing his thing as a normal, if more moral than average, man.  In 431, the Bishop of Alexandria, Cyril, called for a church council to condemn Nestorius, and the ensuing proceedings of the First Council of Ephesus confirmed Nestorius as a heretic.  Nestorius was condemned as a heretic, along with several other church leaders.

The controversy was not over yet, however, and Theodosius was arguably the least qualified man to resolve it.   Theodosius had the additional problem of having a “heretic” for a wife in Aelia Eudocia, and she and Theodosius’ vehemently orthodox sister Pulcheria constantly vied for influence over the emperor.  Meanwhile, a new heterodoxy was forming in the shape of Monophysitism.

Typical diagram of Monophysite doctrine

This might seem like splitting hairs (and it probably is), but to the people at the time, it was incredibly important.  The Monophysites claimed that any understanding of Jesus as having two distinct natures is in and of itself heretical, and they attempted a sort of a coup against the “religious establishment” (the bishops of Constantinople, Rome, and Antioch) in the Second Council of Ephesus.  Theodosius approved the proceedings under the Monophysite Bishop of Alexandria, Cyril’s successor Dioscorus, and Bishop of Rome Leo I (also known as “the Great” for reasons I don’t really have time to go into here), Patriarch Flavianus, and Bishop Domnus of Antioch were all condemned by the Council, but before any action could be taken, Theodosius died, and Pulcheria became the new “empress.”  By law, she could not be the actual ruler, but she could choose to marry someone who would become the new emperor.

Pulcheria viewed the Second Council of Ephesus, as most modern scholars and theologians do, as an attempt by the southern clergy to take over a church that unto that point had been heavily dominated by the Greeks, and her first order of business was to reverse its verdicts as quickly as possible.  As a result, she married the general Marcian, who immediately set about undoing the “Robber Council.”

At the Council of Chalcedon in 451, the mainline Christian doctrine regarding the “Hypostatic Union” (the synthesis between God and Man in the body of Jesus) was clarified, and almost all Christian sects adhere to it to this day, save the Coptic Church and a few other eastern churches.  For her efforts to correct the doctrine, Pulcheria was later canonized by the Catholic Church.  The debate was not to end here, however, as Dioscorus refused to accept the proceedings of the Council of Chalcedon (to this day, the Coptic Church describes itself as “Non-Chalcedonian”).  The great Byzantine Emperor Justinian attempted to solve the controversy by calling the Second Council of Constantinople in 553, but the council ultimately devolved into condemning those who condemned Cyril of Alexandria.  The topic of Christology (the study of the nature of Jesus) would remain dormant for almost a hundred years – largely because of the number of existential threats to the Empire that arose in those days with the invasion of the Avars from Central Asia and increasing pressure from the Persians to the East.

The Byzantine-Persian War of 602-628 was, in essence, the final victory of the Byzantines over the Sassanid dynasty in Persia, which had, for years, been a menace on the eastern border.  The war raged back and forth, pushing the Byzantines to the brink, but a coup staged by Heraclius against Phocas the Usurper placed the Empire under more effective leadership and allowed Byzantium to, eventually, be victorious over the Persians.  Heraclius’ popularity was at an all time high in the 630s because of Persia’s subsequent implosion and its subjugation by the Rashidun Islamic Caliphate.  The Byzantine people did not yet appreciate how dangerous the Caliphate would become, and Heraclius seems to have understood them as some funny sect of Judaism.

Heraclius attempted to leverage his popularity, however, by positing “solutions” to the Christological debate.  His first attempt was “Monoenergism.”  He simply said that Jesus’ nature was simply one “energy,” which was left up to the reader to interpret.  Serious scholars immediately criticized this doctrine as a political cop-out, so in 638, Heraclius switched his view to “Monothelitism,” which said that the seemingly contradictory natures of Jesus were united by a single Telos, meaning “purpose” or “goal.”  In this context it is often translated as “will;” however, fierce opposition from Rome never allowed this doctrine to take root, and in 641, Heraclius died, and the main proponent of Monothelitism was gone.

Ultimately the issue of Christology was largely resolved, inasmuch as it has been, by political events.  Around the time of Heraclius’ death, Egypt fell to the expanding Caliphate, and suddenly, the Monophysite Copts (another term for “Egyptian Christian” which has now become an official denomination of Christianity) were more concerned with the survival of their faith than they were with Christology.  Monothelitism fell out of favor with the common people, and it was eventually condemned by another ecumenical council in 680.

Ultimately, as with many theological issues, the Monophysite debate became too entangled with politics to maintain any scholastic legitimacy, and because of this, it never became the honest discussion it should have been, considering its importance to Christian theology.  Nowadays, it’s mostly done in hair-splittingly detailed debates at seminaries, but it’s interesting to note how debates like these tend to unfold.  For more reading on this, look up Procopius (he’ll mostly handle that space between the Council of Chalcedon and Heraclius) and Dionysus Exiguus.