The present article owes its origin to a talk delivered at the 47th International Congress on Medieval Studies in May 2012 at Kalamazoo, Michigan, under the title, “The Norman-Sicilian Genesis of Crusading versus Crusade Creationism.” I thank the Texas Medieval Association for sponsoring the panel on which I spoke, and the panel's respondent, James Muldoon of the John Carter Brown Library, for his insightful comments. I also thank Donald J. Kagay of Albany State University for help on some of the Latin texts discussed herein, and Alexandru Anca of the University of Bamberg for assistance in translating Hans Eberhard Mayer's definition of “crusade.” My debt to Diana Darke is made explicit in n127.
Crusade Creationism versus Pope Urban II's Conceptualization of the Crusades†
Article first published online: 13 MAR 2013
© 2013 Phi Alpha Theta
Volume 75, Issue 1, pages 1–46, Spring 2013
How to Cite
Chevedden, P. E. (2013), Crusade Creationism versus Pope Urban II's Conceptualization of the Crusades. Historian, 75: 1–46. doi: 10.1111/hisn.12000
- Issue published online: 13 MAR 2013
- Article first published online: 13 MAR 2013
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.
For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.
1 Cor 12:12
Today, much of Crusade scholarship remains committed to the creationist fallacy of the Crusades. Crusade creationism is a form of creationism that asserts that the Crusades testify to a creator's design manifested in a single common core of never-changing characteristics. The essence of Crusade creationism is that crusading was created functionally complete from the beginning. It did not develop by historical processes but was “created” or “invented by Pope Urban II in 1095,” or had its origin in an idea in the mind of Pope Urban (r. 1088–99; Fig. 1). All Crusade essentials were present from the start, with only trivial modifications left to be added later. Thus, from the beginning, the leaders and organizers of the Crusades were popes, and the institutions of the indulgence, the vow, the Cross, and Crusader privileges were all in place. The local environment can modify the original form of the Crusades to give varieties of crusading—the Crusades in Spain, the Baltic, the Balkans, etc.—but these local varieties are seen as trivial and unimportant modifications of the original form of the Crusades as embodied in “Pope Urban's creation.” Crusading could not have developed step by step, first as a political force, followed by the development in successive stages of an institutionalized tradition into which its practitioners were initiated, because Crusade creationism envisions crusading to have been created whole and complete from the beginning, emerging simultaneously as a political force and as an institutionalized tradition. Crusade creationism ensures that there is no historical continuity between the situation at the time immediately preceding 1095 and the situation following it; in an instant, crusading appears in an already advanced state.
Scholars have relied on the notion of the unfolding of a creator's design such that all Crusades express the handiwork of Pope Urban. Those expeditions that are in harmony with Pope Urban's design, having a Jerusalem focus and an ecclesiastical apparatus matching the one attached to his Jerusalem Crusade, or having this ecclesiastical apparatus alone, are deemed true Crusades. Two groups of Crusade creationists have emerged: “old” creationists and “new” creationists. “Old” creationists, such as Hans Eberhard Mayer and Jean Flori, believe that no Crusades occurred outside the creator's design. They contend that Pope Urban II not only initiated the Crusades but also in some meaningful sense controlled crusading in the furtherance of a purpose sanctioned explicitly by him. The Crusades were fixed at the moment of their supposed inception in 1095 and did not deviate from their original goal. “New” creationists, such as Jonathan Riley-Smith, believe that Crusades were governed by a single set of common characteristics attributable to Urban that all and only the Crusades possessed, a set of characteristics that make a Crusade a Crusade. Some scholars list five core characteristics—usually comprising papal authorization, indulgence, vow, Cross, and Crusader privileges —while others allow for fewer. “New” creationists do not restrict Crusades to Jerusalem-bound ventures, as do “old” creationists, but consider non-Holy Land expeditions to be legitimate Crusades, provided they manifest a record of the creator's design in a single common core of never-changing characteristics traceable back to Pope Urban.
“Old” creationists recognize that a Crusade and the fulfillment of a purpose are indissolubly linked, but they deny the possibility that a Crusade could ever be reinterpreted or adapted towards new ends and new purposes not envisioned or anticipated at the outset. Mayer argues that any reinterpretation of the Ur-form of the Crusade constitutes a “perversion of the original idea of a Crusade” and “an abuse on the part of the Church,” while Flori contends that this amounts to “the improper appropriation (captation) of the concept [of Crusade] by the Holy See,” which enabled it “to entice warriors to carry out, on the initiative of the papacy, other military actions against its Muslim enemies, pagans, heretics, or political rivals of all kinds.” “New” creationists maintain that a Crusade is formed out of its parts, so that a purpose cannot enter into the picture as a principle of explanation unless it is brought within the scope of one of the parts. Both creationist schools presuppose as established fact that a Crusade is made up of parts. The ecclesiastical apparatus that emerged to sustain the Crusades—papal authorization, indulgence, vow, Cross, and Crusader privileges—is assumed to be a permanent condition of crusading, something woven into the very constitution of crusading, not something that grew out of crusading itself and was the result of a historical development. A Crusade with no parts, which is itself the origin of the parts and the basis for their determinate existence, cannot be considered a Crusade because it is bereft of the properties that a Crusade must supposedly possess.
“Old” creationists affirm that the parts of a Crusade are held together by a purpose, unlike “new” creationists who maintain that a Crusade is a mere aggregate of parts. Since the parts can take on meaning only through their relation to an end or purpose, the explanation advanced by the “old” creationists has a distinct advantage over that put forward by the “new” creationists. But recognition by “old” creationists of crusading as a purpose-driven activity is undercut by a failure to acknowledge crusading as an ever-evolving historical reality, as opposed to a fixed and immutable reality. “New” creationists, on the other hand, cannot conceive of crusading apart from a fixed institutional apparatus. If crusading could be conceived apart from its apparatus, then an entirely new conceptualization of the Crusades would emerge.
“New” creationists intuitively recognize that a mechanical explanation of the Crusades, or an explanation in terms of parts that do not themselves depend on the whole, is an incomplete explanation. What holds the parts together is the element of purpose, without which the whole enterprise of the Crusades becomes unintelligible. For this reason, many “new” creationists have sought to establish a property that is common to all the parts of a Crusade, a universal characteristic that all Crusades share and that may serve in place of a purpose. “New” creationists have thus identified such a universal attribute and refer to it under several designations: “the unification of holy war with pilgrimage,” “a penitential war-pilgrimage,” a “penitential war” or manifestation of “penitential warfare,” “the fusion of penitence and holy war,” or “the unapologetic and unequivocal combination of war and penance.” A universal characteristic allows “new” creationists to deftly sidestep the element of purpose altogether, while it ties the Crusades down to a Procrustean bed into which complex developments are trimmed to fit a static, timeless, and inflexible reality.
Despite their differences, both “old” creationists and “new” creationists insist that the Crusades possessed core characteristics—a set of essential elements that all and only Crusades possessed—and they largely agree on what these characteristics are. Most scholars concur that there has to be at least a common core of attributes that characterize the Crusades, and Giles Constable observes that “those who want a strict definition [of ‘crusade'] mostly agree on the importance of taking the cross, making a vow, and receiving a papal grant of spiritual and worldly privileges.” Both creationist schools believe that these attributes, or “ingredients,” did not develop by historical processes in successive efforts to connect political practice to suitable instruments, but can be explained in terms of the special creative purpose of Pope Urban. Both creationist schools maintain a strict monism. All Crusades are supposed to be different expressions of one and the same Crusade, the Jerusalem Crusade, because all Crusades have the same underlying substance derived from this Crusade. For “old” creationists, this substance is a fixed form tied to a fixed geographical objective. For “new” creationists, this substance is a single common core of characteristics that is transmitted to all Crusades, regardless of their geographical or historically determined differences. Both creationist schools reject a pluralist, or pluriform, approach to the Crusades that views crusading as variable in form and function, and variously manifested in a variety of locales from the 1060s onward, not something that was fixed and immutable with static attributes from 1095 onward. Both creationist schools imagine that, prior to 1095, the Crusades were formless and void of life. In 1095, Urban activated the forces of the Crusades and brought forth their fundamental elements or allowed these elements to interact for the first time.
The chief drawback of both creationist schools is their static view of the Crusades. Neither of these schools has been able to master the central problem of the Crusades: the problem of change. Both schools start from the presupposition that Crusades are reproducible repetitions of the same mode of activity, the basic elements of which do not change. Both schools separate out from the totality of the Crusades a single one—the Jerusalem Crusade—and set this Crusade up as a norm and pattern for all the others. The Crusades, however, were immensely diversified and must be viewed in their totality. A single Crusade cannot be hypostasized into the whole, and the whole cannot be fully expressed and reproduced by any particular Crusade. “Old” creationists have proved incapable of determining how crusading evolved beyond an exclusive emphasis on Jerusalem. “New” creationists have proved incapable of determining how crusading evolved such that the expedition to Jerusalem could not only be explained, but, what is more, be explained so that the crusading movement as it developed could be derived from it.
To the casual observer and to many scholars, it would seem unlikely that the iter Hierosolymitanum (“march to Jerusalem”) could be the driving force of the non-Holy Land Crusades because it enhances a characteristic—pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulcher—which leaves all other Crusades at a distinct disadvantage with respect to it. If the process of linkage between the Jerusalem Crusade and all other Crusades goes beyond superficial analogy (e.g., “a crusading character”) and involves detailed internal similarities (e.g., the entire ecclesiastical apparatus equated with the Holy Land Crusade), why would these similarities not include pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulcher? If the Jerusalem Crusade is the norm and pattern for all the others, why doesn't this norm and pattern include pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulcher? If the fusion between Holy War and Holy Land pilgrimage generated crusading, as Carl Erdmann and many other scholars maintain, once crusading is under way, what permits it to become associated with non-Holy Land regions? Can the element that is deemed so essential to the emergence of crusading—pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulcher—be rendered superfluous for all non-Holy Land Crusades?
“New” creationists face a fundamental conundrum. If they take the Jerusalem Crusade as the norm and pattern for all the other Crusades, they must not only look for a single common core of characteristics—papal authorization, indulgence, vow, Cross, and Crusader privileges—but they must also ascertain that the end or purpose towards which a Crusade was directed coincides with the end or purpose of the Jerusalem Crusade: “the conquest or defense of Jerusalem.” Failure to do so would indicate that the norm and pattern into which the Crusades must fit is not firm and fixed. Because Riley-Smith accepts the Jerusalem Crusade as the norm and pattern for all the other Crusades, and maintains that a Crusade came into being “whenever the church equated or, at least, associated an indulgence for a holy war with that promised to the Holy Land crusaders,” Mayer asks the question, “does this not put Jerusalem squarely back into the middle of things?” With all the emphasis placed upon the similarity between the Jerusalem Crusade and all other Crusades, Mayer realizes that this sort of similarity can only be achieved by Crusades being “directed again and again to the same objective: Jerusalem.”
In examining the views of both creationist schools, it is apparent that they are ultimately dependent, not on “what contemporaries understood by crusading” in the eleventh and subsequent centuries, but on intellectual doctrines and postulates that scholars have brought to the study of the Crusades. After discussing some of these unexamined presuppositions, this paper will oppose them with the views of the so-called founding father of the Crusades, Pope Urban II. Because Urban died on 29 July 1099 before learning of the conquest of Jerusalem two weeks earlier, his interpretation of the Crusades is able to avoid the problem of anachronism, of judging all prior crusading from the standpoint of the greatest crusading triumph in the eleventh century. Since Urban does not view all Crusades on the basis of the latest expression of crusading activity, his testimony is extremely valuable and should be given much more weight in assessing the Crusade movement than twelfth-century narrative accounts of the so-called “First” Crusade that describe the origins of a single crusading enterprise “in the light of its final outcome.”
To defend the notion of the creation of the Crusades, a number of scholars have embraced the idea of preformation. Erdmann, for example, contends that the Crusades were predetermined at the outset, with every element constituting the Crusades present from the beginning. He cannot bring himself to admit that crusading was ever incomplete and imperfect and came to comprise elements not present at its inception. Reacting against scholars who view the origins of the Crusades within the framework of “either an Eastern cast or one determined by East-West relations,” Erdmann argues that the Crusades developed, not from an ongoing war with Islam, but from wars against heretics, pagans, and fellow Christians:
The prehistory of the crusading idea has acquired, therefore, either an Eastern cast or one determined by East-West relations, whereas the many crusades undertaken in other theaters—against heretics and opponents of the papacy, as well as against heathens—have been regarded as “aberrations” or degenerations of a “genuine” idea of crusade. This view is erroneous. The “aberrations” had long been there, and the “genuine” crusade proceeded from them far more than from a supposed change in the condition of pilgrims and of the city of Jerusalem.
Erdmann bases this contention on the claim that “the true war of the church was to be directed against heretics and schismatics, excommunicates and rebels within the church,” which leads him to conclude that “there is no truth to the common opinion that the idea of crusade against heretics was a corruption of the Palestinian Crusade.” “On the contrary,” he says, “such a crusade against heretics was envisioned from the start.” In the creation of the Crusades, it seems, Pope Urban made everything that he could make, and nothing came into being without him. What crusading was at its birth remained just what it would be capable of throughout its existence. All the ends pursued by Crusades were specified as such from the very beginning, so that crusading at its start was already the whole of what crusading would ever become. Thus, everything subsequent to the onset of the Crusades depends on the beginning from which it proceeds.
John Gilchrist agrees with Erdmann that “the Palestinian crusade was a corruption of the campaign against heretics and not vice-versa,” and argues that “the fundamental problem in Erdmann's thesis arises from him failing to apply consistently the idea that ‘a crusade against heretics was envisioned from the start.’” Burnam Reynolds credits Pope Urban with having “inaugurated a movement that would shape European attitudes and policies toward the Muslim world, and home-grown heretics, for nearly half a millennium.” And Michael Mitterauer claims that all the ends towards which Crusades were directed were “completely worked out” from the start:
The history of the Crusades is often described as if they developed from the campaign to liberate Jerusalem, a Crusade considered legitimate because of its objective. In this interpretation, the Crusades against heretics, schismatics, and the pope's enemies—seen as not being legitimate in the same way—simply grew from this basic model as a secondary form, as a later abuse, so to speak, of an initially just cause. This presumed priority is hardly defensible. The pope's holy war against his enemies within the church predates the Jerusalem Crusade. Every element constituting the Crusades, including fighting against Christians, appears to have been completely worked out before Urban II made his call.
To think of the Crusades in this way is to imagine all the many forms that the Crusades took as somehow already present in advance, waiting to burst forth like butterflies out of the cocoon. In the manner of Athena who emerged whole from the head of Zeus, the Crusades emerged whole and did not develop piecemeal by historical processes. The fallacy of preformation, as if each and every Crusade-possibility were already in existence from the very beginning, denies the historical nature of the Crusades by removing the Crusades from the realm of history and transferring the Crusades to an original act of creation.
Another strategy of promoting Crusade creationism has been to establish the unity of the Crusades by deriving all essential “crusade” elements from their supposed point of origin in the first great Crusade to Jerusalem. This strategy relies on extracting whatever differences there are from among a plurality of Crusades and retaining only the common properties, with the assumption being that the range of common elements was fixed by the kinds of elements that existed at the time of the “First” Crusade, so that no element not present at the “creation” of crusading can be considered essential to the Crusades. This approach ends up negating the very phenomenon that must be explained by divesting the Crusades of crucial content and leaving little more than an empty shell. The relentless process of negation, which transforms diversity into unity, change into changelessness, and dissimilarity into uniformity, reduces the Crusades to a few basic building blocks. These building blocks are all presumed to have been present from the beginning and need only to be passed down to each succeeding Crusade to ensure the continuation of the Crusade movement. By means of a “familiar panoply of privileges and ecclesiastical, propagandist and fiscal institutions,” all Crusades can be recognized.
Thus, Count Paul Riant (1836–88), the founder of the very first international body devoted to the study of the Crusades, the Société de l'Orient Latin, formulates a definition of “crusade” that fixates on its origins, and that attends to the similarities between Crusades by abstracting from the differences. With all differences eliminated, what remains is a fixed and unchangeable essence that reduces crusading to what it was in 1095: a “crusade” is a “religious war … induced by the solemn granting of ecclesiastical privileges, and undertaken with the aim of recovering, either directly or indirectly, the Holy Places [in Palestine].”
Carl Erdmann also defines the nature of “crusade” in relation to its origins and looks to establish the unity of the Crusades by removing all differences. By maintaining continuity between the origins and the development of crusading, Erdmann denies that crusading is an activity in which new ends are generated. He begins his study of the origin of the idea of Crusade with an assertion of what constitutes this idea: “Two forces affecting the human spirit came into play in the crusading movement: the ideas of pilgrimage to the sites of primitive Christianity and the idea of holy war—knightly combat in the service of the church.” Attempting to verify this assertion, he abstracts from everything related to crusading two “essential” features, or “forces,” that allegedly made “the crusading movement” possible: “the idea of pilgrimage to the sites of primitive Christianity and the idea of holy war.” This abstractionist process yields three conclusions: (1) the content of crusading is “the idea of pilgrimage” and “the idea of holy war”; (2) the root cause of the Crusades is the historical appearance of “the unification of holy war with pilgrimage, something that Urban first brought about”; and (3) the failure of the Crusade enterprise to emerge at an earlier date than it actually did is due to the absence of “the unification of holy war with pilgrimage” at an earlier date. Here, the historical explanation takes the form of a mirror image. The same elements whose absence is regarded as the reason for the failure of the Crusade enterprise to emerge prior to the year 1095 is made to account for the rise of the Crusade enterprise in 1095.
Hans Eberhard Mayer likewise assumes that the nature of the Crusade movement can be determined by assessing its origins and by reducing all differences to uniformity. Since the origins of crusading are assumed to be found in Pope Urban's Jerusalem Crusade, Mayer claims that a Crusade must have a goal fixed for all time—the conquest or defense of Jerusalem—and a never-changing organizational structure, modeled after the organizational structure of the so-called “First” Crusade, which consists of an ecclesiastical apparatus of papal authorization, indulgence, vow, and secular privileges:
A Crusade in the true sense of the word … is a war that is proclaimed by the Pope in which a vow is required and an indulgence and secular privileges are granted; and—this appears fundamental—it is a war having a specific and clearly defined geographical objective, namely, to acquire or to preserve Christian dominion over the Sepulcher of Our Lord in Jerusalem. We must not allow ourselves to be deceived by the expeditions against Egypt; they were in fact only a means to an end, and the ultimate end was the conquest or defense of Jerusalem from Muslim domination.
Criticizing Mayer's “narrow definition of ‘crusade’ (only to Jerusalem),” while seeking a more comprehensive understanding of “Was ist eigentlich ein Kreuzzug?” (“What essentially is a Crusade?”), Ernst-Dieter Hehl declares that “the Crusade cannot be defined by its form of organization and its political-military objective.” Like Mayer, Hehl seeks the nature of the crusading enterprise in its origins, and, like Mayer, he seeks to discover what Crusades have in common, not how they differ. As he broadens the scope of the Crusades, he also broadens his efforts to nullify differences between Crusades and to repress heterogeneity. In doing so, he impoverishes the conceptual content of the Crusades by removing from consideration any organizational structure and any political-military objective. Hehl's elimination of political-military objectives from their central place in the Crusades not only leaves the Crusades without any purpose or direction, but it also excludes from discussion any outside factors that might explain the need for political-military objectives in the first place. Instead of reaching a deeper comprehension of the content of the Crusades, Hehl reaches a truncated and superficial understanding of the Crusades by discarding all differences of content exhibited by specific Crusades. The exclusion of differences leaves Hehl with little to go on to determine what defines a Crusade. He searches for a characteristic feature that would encapsulate the inner essence of the crusading enterprise. Hehl finds that far more crucial to crusading than Mayer's “precise geographical objective,” which is linked to an “indulgence as a specific promotional tool,” is the fact that the “initiators” of this “ecclesiastical war,” the popes, together with the participants, provided this war with “an interpretive framework (Interpretationsrahmen), which distinguished it from other wars.” According to Hehl, “this interpretative framework has ultimately freed crusading completely from a military expedition having a specific objective” (e.g., “the conquest or defense of Jerusalem”), so that today the term “crusade” can be used as “a code word for any ideologically-influenced conflict, applied to each and every struggle fought with all one's heart, regardless of whether military means are used.”
The “interpretative framework” that Hehl argues for is a “historical-theological schema” (geschichtstheologisches Schema) that Pope Urban employs to explain how crusading was part of Christian history. This schema divides the history of Christianity into four successive stages. The first stage is that in which Christianity grew and prospered, becoming the universal religion of a world empire and a truly world religion; the second is that in which Islam expanded its power and subjugated more than half of Christendom; the third is that in which “the Christian people, led by princes chosen by God, implement a translatio regni that God now in a great turning point of history (Zeitenwende) makes possible and by which He confers on the Christians victory over the pagans [i.e., Muslims]” in a movement of Christian reconquest (reconquista); and the fourth is that in which the Christian people engage in the restoration (restauratio) of the Church in order to return “the Holy Church” to “the former position” that it enjoyed prior to the coming of Islam. Pope Urban clearly sees the Crusades against the background of the Islamic conquests and as a reaction against Muslim occupation of Mediterranean Christian lands. What is most central to and characteristic of Urban's schema, according to Alfons Becker, is the notion of a translatio regni, a turning of the times (Zeitenwende or Zeitenwandel), or epochal transition, that God carries out, nostris temporibus (“in our time”), to return Christians to a time when they had been in possession of rights and liberties of which conquest and tyranny had deprived them. An old concept, translatio regni, which goes back to the Book of Daniel (2:21), serves to designate a new reality. For Urban, it is not so much that the Old Testament can make sense of present-day events, but rather that present-day events can make sense of the Old Testament. The translatio regni spoken of in the Book of Daniel becomes meaningful to the pope and his contemporaries when viewed in the light of recent events in Sicily, Spain, and the eastern Mediterranean.
Hehl credits Becker with “[making] this historical-theological schema the key to his interpretation of Urban's conception of the Crusade,” but Becker never applies this schema to the entire crusading enterprise, as does Hehl, who makes it the distinguishing feature of the Crusades. Given the importance Hehl places on this schema, it is remarkable that he fails to recognize any of the military actions prior to 1095 that Urban incorporates into his schema as Crusades, such as the Norman war in Sicily, the Castilian expansion into central Iberia, marked by the conquest of Toledo in 1085, and the Catalan push down the eastern coast of Iberia, marked by efforts to rebuild Tarragona. Hehl is oblivious to the fact that the crusading enterprise, an entity of many disparate parts, resists reduction to Urban's schema, just as he is oblivious to the actual contents of this schema. What interests him is not the particulars of the schema, but what can be derived from it to make it possible to account for the entire Crusade movement. Accordingly, he detaches this schema from the real-world context in which it arose and transforms it into a free-floating body of thought centered around a self-conscious commitment of Latin Christians to bring about “an order that is believed to be God-given,” contending that this ideological commitment has repeatedly impacted Western Christendom and has met with efforts “to align [Western Christendom] again and again with an order that is believed to be God-given.”
What Hehl fails to comprehend is the close relationship that exists between Urban's theory of crusading and the practice of crusading as it was carried out during the latter half of the eleventh century. Instead, he understands and evaluates Urban's theory of crusading in abstraction, apart from the concrete events and circumstances that gave rise to it, and he proposes that this theory be promoted as a paradigm for understanding the Crusades over the course of many centuries. Urban's theory, however, should not be abstracted from the specific situations in which Urban applied it. As Alasdair MacIntyre warns: “Detach any type of theorizing from the practical contexts in which it is legitimately at home, whether scientific, theological or political, and let it become a free-floating body of thought and it will be all too apt to be transformed into an ideology.” By reshaping Becker's “interpretation of Urban's conception of the Crusade,” found in the pope's “historical-theological schema,” into a total explanation for the Crusades, Hehl transforms Urban's theory of crusading into an ideology that is sufficient to explain all crusading phenomena. Once the pope's schema is no longer viewed as representative of reality, but as an ideology, and even a Weltanschauung, of “epochal change” (Epochenwandel), it can be linked exclusively to “the central structures of Christianity.” External factors need not be examined to understand the Crusades because an ideology supplies a total explanation.
Hehl puts the role of external factors in the Crusades in the form of a dilemma. “Each definition [of ‘crusade'],” he says, “runs the risk of detaching it as a specific war of the Church from the general development of medieval society, of making it an event on the frontiers of Christendom, instead of locating its underlying roots in the central structures of Christianity.” Because some Crusades were fought “on the frontiers of Christendom,” while others were not, the unity of the Crusades can only be grasped by taking into consideration properties that all Crusades share in common, and not what distinguishes them. Any definition of “crusade” that includes wars “on the frontiers of Christendom” takes a risk “of detaching [crusading] as a specific war of the Church from the general development of medieval society,” because it might cause crusading to be seen from the point of view of “an event on the frontiers of Christendom,” and not from a point of view appropriate to all Crusades no matter where they are fought, such as from the perspective of “the general development of medieval society,” or from the standpoint of “the central structures of Christianity.” To avoid such a risk, Hehl reasons that it is best to isolate the common properties that are found in Crusades, and to build a definition on these common elements. A definition of “crusade” will only take on a form free from “detaching [crusading] as a specific war of the Church from the general development of medieval society” when it abandons the attempt to present the particular in crusading and restricts itself consciously and explicitly to the universal.
The particular and the universal represent the two horns of a dilemma. Something must be sacrificed in order to solve the dilemma, and Hehl concludes that it is advisable to relinquish the particular, lest one “[run] the risk of detaching [crusading] as a specific war of the Church from the general development of medieval society.” In the process of eliminating the particular in crusading, Hehl does away with all outside factors that bear upon the Crusades and retains only internal factors. By divesting outside factors of any function in the Crusades, Hehl can then locate the underlying roots of the Crusades “in the central structures of Christianity.” The abstractionist process allows Hehl to discount Pope Urban's interpretation of the Crusades as events that occurred, not in response to internal forces within the Latin West, but as events that occurred in response to forces external to the Latin West. The pope's conceptualization of crusading as a translatio regni lays bare the roots of the Crusades in the ongoing conflict between Islam and Western Christendom in the Mediterranean world. For Urban, the Crusades are comprehensible only in the context of the struggle against Islam, whereas, for Hehl, the Crusades are comprehensible only in the context of “the central structures of Christianity.”
What makes external factors unmentionable in Hehl's definition of “crusade” is the process of abstraction that he employs to construct a broader picture of the Crusades, which cancels out all specific differences among Crusades while paying heed only to similarities. Hehl ends up with a paradoxical result: a grossly diminished view of the Crusades, now regarded solely as “an expression of the internal condition of Latin Christianity” and “a reflection of the inner state of Western Christendom.” He has emancipated Pope Urban's schema from the context in which it is legitimately applicable, and has made all Crusades variants of “Urban's call for a war in which God brings about an epochal change (Epochenwandel).” In the Crusades, it seems, evidence of Pope Urban's design is to be found everywhere.
Following in the tradition of Riant, Erdmann, and Mayer, Jonathan Riley-Smith accepts the fact that the origins of the Crusade movement and its nature coincide, and that one can establish the essence of the Crusades by extinguishing all differences. “To contemporaries,” Riley-Smith states,
a Crusade was an expedition authorised by the pope, the leading participants in which took vows and consequently enjoyed the privileges of protection at home and the Indulgence, which, when the campaign was not destined for the East, was expressly equated with that granted to crusaders to the Holy Land.
This definition of “crusade,” while in many ways a repudiation of Mayer's definition, derives its ideas and even its basic categories from Mayer. Herein lies the problem. Riley-Smith mistakenly supposes that it is possible to obtain a pluralistic conception of the Crusades by simply modifying Mayer's monistic theory. He does so by declaring the ecclesiastical apparatus that Mayer identifies with Crusades—papal authorization, indulgence, vow, and Crusader privileges—to be the only content of crusading. Absent from Riley-Smith's definition of “crusade” is any mention of the purpose of crusading. The Crusades are considered to possess their identity apart from any particular purpose or frame of reference, except from what can be inferred from an ecclesiastical apparatus consisting of papal authorization, indulgence, vow, and Crusader privileges. Of course, Riley-Smith does not deny that specific Crusades had a purpose or intent behind them, but he does exclude the purpose, or purposes, for which Crusades were undertaken from his theory and definition of Crusade. His interpretive principle can best be described as the Cheshire Cat rule of historical analysis—now you see the purpose of a Crusade, now you don't. According to this approach, the purpose, or purposes, for which Crusades were fought vanish during the process of determining What Were the Crusades and only reappear after the Crusades have been understood in a new way and assigned some new meaning and justification.
Riley-Smith finds this new meaning and justification in a single act of creation: “Pope Urban II's call to bear arms as a penance in 1095,” which “created a new category of warfare” and “a new type of pilgrimage”—“a penitential war-pilgrimage”—a truly “radical,” “revolutionary,” and “unprecedented” development. The ingenious elimination of the purpose of “Pope Urban II's call to bear arms” in 1095 allows Riley-Smith to substitute another purpose—“a penitential war-pilgrimage”—for the original one—“to liberate the Church of God” (ad liberandam ecclesiam Dei) in the East —and to promote this fabricated purpose as the overriding intention of the entire Crusade movement, “which was to last for seven centuries.” He can then view “the crusade as something deliberately created” for “nobles and knights,” and as something that did not change appreciably since that creation event. By refashioning the Crusades around the concept of “a penitential war-pilgrimage,” Riley-Smith cuts the Crusades off from their real genesis in the ongoing conflict in the Mediterranean between Islam and Christendom, and from any purpose, or purposes, for which they were intended. The Crusades are thereby dispossessed of what constitutes their reason for being, and are locked into the purely subjective world of the individual, so that it is the individual that is important, not the purpose or function of a Crusade. As a result, “it is no exaggeration to say,” as Riley-Smith has often said, “that a crusade was for an individual [Crusader, and] only secondarily about service in arms to God or the benefiting of the church or Christianity; it was primarily about benefiting himself, since he was engaged in an act of self-sanctification.”
One of the most problematic aspects of Riley-Smith's theory and definition of “crusade” is his apotheosis of the individual. The great challenge facing Western Christendom came, not from Islam, but from a spiritual crisis confronting Christian warriors that expressed itself in a heightened ambivalence between war-making and a desire for salvation. According to Riley-Smith, crusading “provided an answer to a question which had been troubling [Christian warriors] and their families for a century”—“How could they make their peace with God except by abandoning the world for a monastic community and thereby turning their backs on their obligations and responsibilities?” Pope Urban addressed this spiritual crisis and “presented [Christian warriors] with an alternative solution,” which was “only secondarily about benefiting the Church or Christianity; it was primarily about benefiting [‘the armsbearing public’ of Western Christendom],” since this alternative was “an act of self-sanctification.” Riley-Smith maintains that “the armsbearing public and its charter-writers” were faced in 1095, not with a political objective to be achieved, but with “a new penitential exercise” that Christian warriors found very appealing. The Crusade proclaimed in 1095 was simply an instrument or an occasion for engaging in a penitential exercise so that Christian warriors would have “the chance of contributing to their own salvation by undertaking a severe penance which did not entail the abandonment of their profession of arms and the humiliating loss of status involved in pilgrimaging abroad as normal penitents without weapons, equipment and horses.”
Riley-Smith contends that “the summons to crusade” was “a pastoral move,” concerned with the spiritual care of Christian warriors. Yet the Crusades, like all wars, cannot be understood without placing them in their political and historical context. These wars were not the product of discrete individuals preoccupied with saving their individual souls but of an entire society coming together in the latter half of the eleventh century to fulfill a common purpose: liberating Christian peoples and lands from Islamic domination. “Above all,” asserts Becker, “the feeling grew that Islamic rule over Christians was to be born no longer and that this rule was intolerable, especially over the Holy Places of Christianity.” A common abhorrence took root in the Latin West of a Christian world dominated by Islam, and a common conviction emerged that this situation should be reversed. Islamic domination was regarded as a tyranny that attacks the most basic rights of Christians. Pope Urban prescribes action to reverse centuries of Islamic occupation of Christian territory and makes the realization of freedom for the Church the very purpose of the Crusade enterprise itself. It is simply false that political change was not essential to crusading, as if crusading was nothing more than an instrument for attaining salvation. If we examine the letters of Pope Urban, as Becker has done, it becomes overwhelmingly clear that political change, translatio regni, was central to crusading. Urban was promoting a program for changing the world, not a program designed principally for getting to the next world. He maintained firmly and resolutely that the Church should be free and restored to its former state prior to the Islamic conquest movements of the seventh and eighth centuries. The main problem with an apolitical, or anti-political, interpretation of crusading, such as the one advanced by Riley-Smith, is that it cannot do justice to the explicit and emphatic statements made by Pope Urban about crusading. Missing from Riley-Smith's theory is an analysis of the political foundations on which the Crusades were originally founded and the sweeping political goals once imagined for the Crusades.
Riley-Smith, like many scholars, maintains that the roots of the Crusades are not to be found in the ongoing conflict in the Mediterranean between Islam and Christendom, but exclusively in internal developments in Latin Christendom. The willful omitting of the Islamic-Christian confrontation as a factor in the emergence of the Crusades seems to reflect the aspirations of our own time rather than the realities of the eleventh century. “The crusades were so much a Christian development,” Riley-Smith says, “that it is almost as if Muslim foes would have to have been invented had they not already existed.” He claims that “all of us, although with different emphases, now know that the subject of crusading is a religious one, whatever other elements were important to it, and that, whatever its casus belli, the roots of the First Crusade lay in the ideas, devotions and aspirations of Western Europeans.” At the same moment that he declares the Crusades to have their roots in “the ideas, devotions and aspirations of Western Europeans,” Riley-Smith asserts that “[Crusades] grew out of the eleventh-century [papal] reform movement, which gave rise to forces that probably would have found expression in wars of liberation whatever the situation in the East had been.” Riley-Smith seems unaware of the tension in his two views and has made no attempt to resolve it. Regardless of which view he prefers, Riley-Smith affirms the exclusively religious character of the origin of the Crusades and denies the importance of external causes. By advocating a religious interpretation of the Crusades, Riley-Smith leaves himself open to the criticism once leveled by John LaMonte against Paul Rousset of trying “to reestablish the old thesis of the crusade as essentially a religious movement” by maintaining that “religion was the essential cause of the crusade.”
How can Riley-Smith set forth what “crusade” means without heed to the intentions, purposes, and reasons for engaging in it, or without regard to the Islamic world as a factor in its development, and affirm that self-interest, in the form of “self-sanctification,” is what crusading is primarily about? The abstractionist model of concept formation offers an answer. In the process of defining “crusade” as “a movement which was to last for seven centuries” and “involve millions of men and women in many theatres of war,” Riley-Smith abstracts out of crusading those features of the concrete and particular that refer to specific theaters of war in order to encounter the universal and the general in crusading. In doing so, he is able to selectively attend to particular crusading content (e.g., papal authorization, indulgence, vow, and Crusader privileges), while ignoring the situational context in which Crusades occurred. He views the content of crusading analytically, as something that exists independently and can be considered on its own without a context.
The price of ignoring the context, such as the centuries-old war of Islam against Christendom and all other circumstances in which Crusades occurred, is hypostasis, i.e., giving a dubious selection of “crusade” content an independent reality of its own without reference to the historical circumstances that brought this content into being. The vanishing of the many life-giving contexts in which Crusades took place allows history to recede from view, while transforming crusading into a “sophisticated ideology” that shifts its shape or function in different circumstances to accommodate the aspiration to achieve “self-sanctification.” The pursuit of an ideal religious life by Christian warriors-cum-“penitents performing a severe penance” now becomes the permanent drama of crusading. The drama of a sustained confrontation between Islam and the Latin West is lost from view, replaced by a “devotional war,” in which war itself is regarded “as a devotion” or “as a penance and a devotion.”
Norman Housley asserts the “prominence” of “the devotional and above all the penitential origins of crusading,” and deems it “unlikely that the emphasis placed by recent research on devotional motivations [for the Crusades] will be overturned.” He has challenged Crusade historians to examine “what contemporaries understood by crusading, and above all the sense they had of their crusading past,” observing that this subject “has as yet received little attention.” Despite his purported interest in the standpoint of contemporaries in the understanding of the Crusades, Housley exhibits an ambivalent attitude towards those contemporaries that would frame the Crusades within the context of “the ongoing struggle against a powerful Islam” and places impossible demands on these contemporaries and on the evidence they provide of crusading activity. He maintains that the point of view they bring to the Crusades, far from enabling us to see crusading reality in the round, from different perspectives at different times, was a “factor which stood in the way of contemporaries building up a historically accurate and nuanced picture of past crusading which might have clarified its overall nature.” Here, the onus is placed on contemporaries “[to build] up a historically accurate and nuanced picture of past crusading which [might clarify] its overall nature,” and the chief inhibiting factor blocking this development is identified as one of the many perspectives on the Crusades provided by contemporaries. Since contemporary standpoints are by their very nature partial and perspectival, not overall and objective, it is absurd to require contemporaries to lay aside the limited and incomplete outlook that is part and parcel of their perspective and oblige them to satisfy the historian's requirement for “a historically accurate and nuanced picture of past crusading which [might clarify] its overall nature.” It is the function of the historian to make the many partial standpoints and perspectives on the Crusades presented by contemporaries coherent; this is not the task for contemporaries to accomplish, or even a task that one should expect them to accomplish.
Abstractionist thinking leads Housley to range over the entire span of the crusading enterprise and to emphasize those elements that clarify “its overall nature,” as reflected in what Crusades have in common, not what differentiates them. Particular Crusades engaged in “the ongoing struggle against a powerful Islam” have served only to prevent contemporaries from “building up a historically accurate and nuanced picture of past crusading which might have clarified its overall nature.” An unwavering commitment to the abstractionist principle explains Housley's affinity for overall characteristics of Crusades and his aversion to particular characteristics. It also explains why he is unwilling to tolerate epistemic incompatibility between the perspectives of contemporaries. Only by removing one particular perspective from all the other perspectives—the view that the Crusades had something to do with “the ongoing struggle against a powerful Islam”—would it have been possible for contemporaries to construct “an objective perspective” on the Crusades. Since this did not happen, Housley has made up for this shortfall by interpreting the Crusades as a movement whose “roots lay not in the east but in the west,” specifically “in developments that took place within Catholic Christendom.” Citing scholarly consensus, Housley says that “it has become accepted that individuals in the late eleventh-century West experienced extraordinary concern, verging on alarm, about their chances of salvation and that this concern lay behind their response to Pope Urban II's call in 1095 to win remission of all their sins by liberating Jerusalem.”
In championing “the pre-eminence of religious beliefs and values in explaining the First Crusade,” Housley claims that “crusading was first and foremost an act of devotion,” and that “its origins must be sought in the sphere of [religious] belief.” This interpretive turn in the study of the Crusades no longer describes and understands crusading in its own terms, but automatically assumes it to signify an altogether different reality: a recipe for “spiritual health” and a desire “to win salvation.” If Crusades are considered merely as a means to a further end, say, to attain salvation, then the specific deeds and events, or res gestae, of crusading cannot be placed at the center of crusading, as the basis to explain the Crusades. The purpose of crusading is accepted as something external to the res gestae of crusading, imposed upon it from the outside, so that the Crusades become, in Housley's words, “a religious and cognitive experience.” What this means is that the Crusades have been instrumentalized and deprived of their intrinsic worth. The intrinsic devaluation of the Crusades does not diminish Pope Urban's power over “the devotional experience of crusading,” but rather enhances it, since through him “a new Christian devotional practice had come into being.”
We are uniquely fortunate that Pope Urban II has given his own view of the origins and development of crusading. As he sees it, the Christian people, “led by princes chosen by God,” instigated and carried out the Crusades; they were not the product of papal initiative. According to him, popes were not the originators and organizers of Crusades, Christian princes were. Urban's conceptualization of the Crusades involves a fundamentally different concept of explanation from that employed by modern scholars, who rely on the Aristotelian theory of concept formation according to which general concepts are arrived at by abstracting from the differences between a plurality of things that have the same fundamental character and attending only to the common elements. The abstractionist model of concept formation reduces the content of knowledge to mere pieces of the whole with no assurance that the “pieces” selected are necessary and permanent characteristics of the whole, rather than accidental and changing characteristics. If an extrinsic property is mistaken for an intrinsic property, crusading will assume an entirely new face. An enterprise that encompassed, by the end of the eleventh century, a fight against “the Turks in Asia and the Moors in Europe” (in Asia Turcos in Europa Mauros), will be explained solely in terms of a desire “to acquire or to preserve Christian dominion over the Sepulcher of Our Lord in Jerusalem,” or will be interpreted as “an act of self-sanctification” and be looked upon as “primarily a penitential exercise.” In either case, crusading loses its independence and self-sufficiency and becomes subordinate to a strictly contingent feature of crusading.
The abstractionist model of concept formation inevitably explains a whole in terms of its “pieces,” or its parts, that is, it explains the whole mechanistically. A mechanistic model assumes the form: “Take six eggs. Then break them into a bowl. Add flour, salt, sugar, etc.” In the case of the Crusades, this becomes: “Take pilgrimage and Holy War. Mix them together. Add papal authorization, a Crusade indulgence, a crusading vow, a Cross, and Crusader privileges, etc.” Crusading is conceived as a mere compositum of parts that precedes the whole and makes the whole possible because a Crusade cannot be determined into action by crusading acts alone but can only be set in motion by something outside itself (e.g., a Jerusalem pilgrimage, an institutional apparatus, or an extrinsic reward). Urban does not look upon the Crusades in this way. What binds one Crusade to another and every element of crusading together is not a set of common elements, or properties, but a common purpose.
For Urban, the unity of the Crusades is expressed in their purpose, not in their actualization (i.e., their particulars). The multiplicity of particulars is thought of as a unified whole, as one particular phenomenon rather than a mere collection of phenomena sharing some characteristics together. The particular individual Crusades belong together, not because they are alike or resemble each other in every detail, but because they are united by a common task, which, in contrast to the period preceding the Crusades, is perceived to be new: “the great task of the reconquest of the Mediterranean from the power of Islam.”
For Urban, the unity of the Crusades can be grasped, not by looking for unity in multiplicity, by ridding the Crusades of all differences to find what is the same in all of them. Rather, this unity can be grasped only through multiplicity, by rejecting the unity of uniformity and by accepting multiplicity as the ground of all unity. This is a unity that manifests itself in multiplicity. Instead of looking for the unity underlying multiplicity, Urban looks for the multiplicity underlying unity. His vision of unity does not exclude difference but rather fosters and requires it. He does not subordinate the many to the one, the mutable to the invariable, the transitory to the permanent, the ever-changing to the unchanging, as do modern historians of the Crusades. Instead of viewing unity and multiplicity as opposites, Urban views them as mutually interdependent, as does Leibniz: “For where there is no true unity, there is no true multiplicity.” The unity of the Crusades can only be revealed in constant change, and the multiplicity of the Crusades can only be explained as a unity. Urban clearly embraces a dynamic conception of crusading rather than a static conception. The nature of crusading does not consist in its being a fixed and unchangeable phenomenon but rather in producing ever new variations of itself. Crusading is not a finished, ready-made product, but rather a dynamic process that progressively determines itself. Its permanence lies in its capacity to bring forth new and distinctive forms of crusading, from Sicily, to Spain, to the eastern Mediterranean.
Instead of reducing diversity to unity, change to changelessness, and dissimilarity to uniformity, as do modern historians, Urban introduces a pluralistic approach to the Crusades by finding multiplicity in unity. He proceeds, not from plurality to unity, but from unity to plurality, just as he moves, not from the parts to the whole, but from the whole to the parts. Accordingly, Urban grasps the Crusades in their wholeness and simultaneously analyzes the parts of the Crusades, “in Asia” and “in Europe,” and relates them to the whole. He looks upon crusading and its properties, not as conditioned by something outside itself (e.g., an extrinsic incentive), but as conditioning and determining action by means of its already determined nature. He recognizes the whole of crusading in each of its individual expressions, in Sicily, in Spain, and in the eastern Mediterranean. The whole is not set forth as an entity having a fixed and unchangeable form, but is seen as a process of which one can determine the purpose of the enterprise but not the specific form of its realization, which differs according to time and place. The constitution of this whole is reflected in every specific form of crusading, and in every individual manifestation of the Crusades. No single manifestation, such as the Jerusalem Crusade, can possibly incorporate the completeness and totality of the whole to which it belongs, but every individual manifestation can represent, or stand for, this completeness.
The concept of crusading is not embodied exclusively in one form (e.g., the Jerusalem Crusade) but in the totality of crusading forms. This totality can only be grasped in the aggregate, in the many manifestations of crusading, not in a single Crusade. Only by looking at the Crusades in this way do the multiplicity, the diversity, and the heterogeneity of the Crusades cease to appear to be a contradiction of their unity and become instead a necessary expression of that unity itself. Every individual manifestation of crusading is what it is only in connection with the whole, i.e., the end or purpose towards which Crusades are directed. And while that end or purpose evolves and changes over the centuries, crusading still maintains a sense of unity by continuing to be “at least in theory, international enterprises against the common enemies of Christendom.” Thus, while crusading transforms itself in all its changes, it also preserves itself in all its changes.
Modern historians have judged the entire Crusade movement from the standpoint of one Crusade, the Jerusalem Crusade summoned in 1095. Events prior to 1095 exhibiting a “crusading character” or associated with “the idea of crusade” are reduced to a mere prologue to the Jerusalem Crusade, and all Crusades following this one are judged by the “standard,” the “scale,” the “touchstone,” the “template,” the “model,” the “blueprint,” the “benchmark,” or the “reference point” of this Crusade. In the Jerusalem Crusade the entire meaning of crusading is supposed to become clearly visible. All other Crusades receive their significance and validity through their relationship to this Crusade. Yet Urban places all the Crusades on the same plane, equal in value and validity. He makes his position on the equality of all Crusades especially clear in a letter to a number of Catalan counts and their knights, written most probably in July 1096, in which he admonishes “anyone” in Spain wishing “to go to Asia,” with “the warriors of other provinces … to aid the Churches in Asia and to liberate their brothers from the tyranny of the Saracens, … to fulfill the desire of his devotion here [i.e., in Spain],” because “it is no feat of valor to liberate Christians from Saracens in one place [i.e., in Asia] only to deliver Christians to Saracen tyranny and oppression in another place [i.e., in Spain].”
Urban views the broad scope of the Crusades themselves, rather than focusing on a single Crusade, and subjects the many Crusades of his day to historical scrutiny. He attempts to grasp the entire crusading enterprise, rather than separating out one Crusade and setting it up as a norm and pattern for all the others. In 1098, with the Crusade in Sicily (1060–91) long ended, he takes stock of the recovery of Huesca by Aragon (1096) and the victories in the East at Nicaea and Dorylaeum (1097) and conceptualizes the Crusades in broad terms as a Christian movement of reconquest and restoration of the lost lands of Christendom on two fronts: in the eastern Mediterranean against “the Turks in Asia” and in the western Mediterranean against “the Moors in Europe.” His own scrutiny into the many Crusades of his day produces this assessment:
Best of all, after many years, God has, in our time (nostris temporibus), alleviated the suffering of the Christian people and has deigned to exalt the faith. In our day (nostris diebus), He has conquered (debellauit) the Turks in Asia and the Moors in Europe with Christian forces, and He has restored (restituit) once famous cities to the practice of His religion by even more immanent divine grace. Among these, He has released (liberatam) the cathedral city of Huesca from the tyranny of the Saracens by the vigorous effort of our beloved son, King Peter of Aragon, and has reestablished (reformauit) His Catholic Church.
By taking in the broad sweep of the Crusades, Urban introduces the idea of development into the crusading enterprise. He does this by furnishing a full conceptual framework for understanding the Crusades of his own era in his schema that divides Christian history into four major epochs: (1) the epoch of Christian antiquity; (2) the epoch of Islamic ascendancy; (3) the epoch of Christian reconquest; and (4) the epoch of Christian restoration. Historical change is fundamentally development towards an ultimate translatio regni, a shift from Islamic to Christian rule that seeks to “restore the Christian <Churches> to their former freedom,” the political purpose behind the Crusades. Crusading can take place in a variety of forms and circumstances, yet the defining characteristic of crusading, for Urban, is translatio regni. In setting forth this vision of crusading, Urban connects various cities and regions of the Mediterranean with the historical realization of a translatio to Christian rule and a restauratio of the Church (understood as an entire religious society embracing both West and East). The historical surge of translatio-restauratio can be seen more clearly the further the two processes advance. We can follow the broad outlines of these processes through Urban's letters, in which he speaks of the yoked activities of translatio and restauratio at work in the Norman war in Sicily, in the Castilian and Catalan expansion in Iberia, and in the expedition to Jerusalem.
In 1099, Urban examines the general Mediterranean situation and declares: “In our time (nostris temporibus) the Church has been enlarged, the domination of the Muslims has been reduced, the ancient honor of episcopal sees has been, by the gift of God, restored (restauratur).” No fixed and permanent institutional structures or “specific and clearly defined geographical objective” serve as criteria to identify Crusades. Rather, Urban understands the Crusades as a single continuum of activity “[to restore] once famous cities to the practice of [God's] religion,” “[to reestablish] the former position of the Holy Church,” or “to liberate the Church of God.” He perceives the deeds and actions “to liberate Christians from Saracens” and “[to] greatly [expand] the Church of God into Saracen territory” as a unity, as a manifestation of an identical reality. Crusading is not to be understood statically but dynamically. Crusading is not some mysterious atavism—a perpetual recurrence to an ancestral type—but a swiftly progressing historical development whose results Urban sees “in our time” (nostris temporibus) have transformed the Mediterranean world.
To understand Urban's conception of “crusade,” we must set aside all the narrow connotations of the term that associate it in the eleventh century only with Jerusalem or the eastern Mediterranean, and we should bear in mind that, for Urban, the war against “the Turks in Asia” and the war against “the Moors in Europe” are inseparably united and are regarded as part of the same common enterprise. As Riley-Smith observes, “Urban regarded the new crusade to the East as part of a wider movement of Christian liberation and did not distinguish it from the Spanish Reconquest.” Even a distinction, such as the one that Riley-Smith draws between a “crusade” and a “reconquest,” would have made little sense to Urban. Rather than seeing “crusade” and “reconquest” as mutually exclusive alternatives, as Riley-Smith does, we should recognize that Urban would never have accepted such exclusive options, because for him the fight against Islam in Spain and the fight against Islam in the eastern Mediterranean were “two sides of the same enterprise to liberate territories formerly in Christian hands.” Robert I. Burns repudiates the usual separation of “crusade” and “reconquest.” “The very term Reconquest,” he says, “has probably outlived its usefulness,” because “it reflects the antiquated fantasy of eight centuries of war consciously designed to recover a lost country [i.e., Spain],” which no scholar now regards as tenable. “It is particularly misleading,” argues Burns, “when suggesting a merely secular war of gain during Europe's crusade period.” The eleventh century, with its “violent readjustment of Christian society, at its moment of urbanization and expansion, marks the beginnings,” according to Burns, “of whatever ‘Reconquest’ Spain underwent.” It is in the context of the Crusades, Burns maintains, where the term can meaningfully be applied: “It is used most exactly as a substitute or substratum for crusade, as canonists did, in the sense of a just war to ‘recover’ from Muslims the lands lost to Islam by Christendom, including the Holy Land.”
The events of the so-called “First” Crusade did not lead Urban to create new ideas about crusading or to revise existing ones, but were a vindication of observations already made, that events nostris temporibus—in Sicily, in Spain, and now in the eastern Mediterranean—were a turning point in Christian history, and that a single reality holds this series of events together. Pope Urban does not form a concept of “crusade” by separating out a fixed group of properties from a plurality of Crusades. Rather, he constructs his idea of “crusade” by unifying a series of similar undertakings into a single order of coherent relationships, which he characterizes under the rubric of translatio regni. The serial ordering of these events constitutes the truly creative aspect of Urban's formation of the crusading concept, and demonstrates that Urban thought of crusading, not as a fixed entity, but as a continuous activity. As Becker states, “Spain, Sicily, and Asia Minor were for the Pope—apart from the question of the unification of the Church and the problems of papal-Byzantine politics—in the last three or four years of his pontificate simply three different fronts, as it were, in which the same fight between Christianity and Islam was being played out, and in which everyone—Spaniard, Norman, or Crusader—took his assigned place and fulfilled a task of exactly equal value.”
The dynamic nature of crusading consists in giving birth to a variety of Crusades. Thus, Sicily leads to Spain, Spain to the eastern Mediterranean, and afterwards to the entire Mediterranean. Given “the protean quality of crusading,” which “hardly confirms the creation of a homogeneous movement,” and still less that “the papacy was … in control of a homogeneous movement,” we should not be surprised that crusading defies formalization and “precise definition.” Never is one Crusade just like any other. Spain does not mirror Sicily, nor does the Jerusalem Crusade reproduce what happened in Sicily or Spain. In similar fashion, never can a Crusade be reduced to the sum of purely static elements that are derived from a single Crusade. All the particular elements that make up a Crusade are to be understood rather as in transition, in flux, in the process of change. Their recognizability as crusading elements is not owing to the fact that they can be identified by means of a single common core of never-changing characteristics, but that they are perceived as manifestations of a single reality that unfolds in multiple and divergent ways. What makes a Crusade a Crusade is not a single set of common characteristics, or conformity to a common model (i.e., the Jerusalem Crusade), but the principle of an end or purpose to be attained that gives shape and form to all of the elements or structures of a Crusade. The possibility of these elements, as well as their form, is dependent upon the end or purpose towards which Crusades are directed. The structure of a Crusade depends on its function or purpose; its function or purpose does not depend on its structure.
Because structure is inseparably linked to function, what holds the various structures of a Crusade together is not the unity of a historical prototype (i.e., the Jerusalem Crusade), or the unity of a single common core of characteristics, but the unity of a purpose. This unity manifests itself in successive acts of crusading, so that each act of crusading is understandable as part of a dynamic whole developing in a profusion of different forms. Each act, or exploit, of crusading signifies an ever new expression of the whole. Yet in the profusion of crusading forms, crusading preserves its identity by being related to a common task. The common task connects the actual particulars of crusading (i.e., the many individual acts of crusading and the many individual components of crusading) with the whole, which can only manifest itself in multiplicity. This conception of crusading is not based on the concept of permanence, or continuity, in change, but on the idea that change forms the basis of permanence and continuity, just as the different waters of Heraclitus's river form the basis of the continuing reality of the river. Permanence can be grasped only through the process of change, and unity can be understood only through the lens of multiplicity. Permanence and change are inseparably related in the Crusades because Pope Urban sees the Crusades as successive stages in a continuous movement, proceeding from Sicily to Spain to the eastern Mediterranean.
Pope Urban's vision of crusading is built upon a “functional,” or purpose-based, theory of crusading, not upon an abstractionist theory of crusading. In stressing the synthetic character of the Crusades, Pope Urban stands at odds with nearly every modern explanation of the Crusades, which proceeds on the basis that understanding is analytical in nature and is established by dividing a whole into its separate parts and reasoning from the parts to the whole. We know that Urban held a “functional” view of crusading because the two formulations that he gave crusading—translatio regni and ad liberandam ecclesiam Dei—indicate that he thought about Crusades in terms of whether, and to what extent, the actual outcomes of crusading conformed to the political purpose of the enterprise. Urban conceives of the various forms of crusading as specific functions of translatio regni and ad liberandam ecclesiam Dei. Crusading is not an aggregate of separate parts, but a unified whole manifested in a common task. Modern scholars have something to learn from Pope Urban. First, Urban conceptualizes the Crusades on a non-Jerusalem-centered basis. Second, he reaches an understanding of the Crusades, not through a process of abstraction, but through a synthetic act of the mind that perceives the whole “as a whole,” not as a whole of parts, and perceives the parts as meaningful only to the extent that they affirm the whole. Finally, he sees the Crusades as unfolding in a progressive sequence of events. The manner of this progression ensures that every Crusade is definable in terms of what has come before, while guaranteeing that each new Crusade expands the previous content of crusading and adds synthetically to the concept of Crusade new and transformative elements. Thus, the unity of the Crusades maintains itself continuously in a manifold of expressions, as crusading develops and divides itself into new forms and new practices.
In “ongoing modes of human activity,” as Alasdair MacIntyre observes, “ends have to be discovered and rediscovered, and means devised to pursue them,” and it is these very modes of activity, which he terms “practices,” that “generate new ends and new conceptions of ends.” Crusading comprised precisely those ongoing modes of human activity within which new ends emerged, and within which old ends were revised and adapted to new conditions. Crusading can never be defined in a static way, as having either a fixed geographical objective or a fixed core of common characteristics. The Crusades were not created functionally complete from the beginning, nor were they locked into the perpetuation of a fixed and immutable type of activity. Instead, as the practice of crusading grew as a political force, the Church, beginning in 1063, moved to sustain it by creating institutions that would support it. A loose nexus of institutional structures and arrangements evolved which over time crystallized into a standard panoply of institutional components. Crusading did not emerge simultaneously as a political force and as an institutionalized tradition, but developed step by step, first as a political force, followed by the development in successive stages of an institutionalized tradition into which its practitioners were initiated. The processes of institutionalization, in turn, compelled theoretical formulations of crusading (ad liberandam ecclesiam Dei) and a biblical warrant for it (translatio regni). Eventually, the original ends for which the Crusades were begun became the means for new ends.
Because the Crusades were produced by historical processes, rather than controlling these processes in advance, a variety of particular crusading forms emerged, each responding to the context in which it arose. Each of these forms was a by-product of a changing world. As the world changed, crusading changed with it. Over the centuries the peoples of Western Europe employed the concept of Crusade as the world they lived in changed around them. Each major change in the direction of crusading was related to changes in the wider society to which crusading was an adaptation. Hence, there were many kinds of Crusades, whose structures and institutions, once established or adopted, were analogous, but whose contexts and circumstances varied widely, according to time and place. There were Crusades against Muslims in the Mediterranean, pagans in the Baltic, heretics in southern France and Germany, schismatics in Greece, Mongols in eastern Europe, and political opponents of the papacy in western Europe. Yet without the original mode of activity in which crusading found its purpose—recovering from Islam the lost lands of Christendom—there would have been nothing for individuals and groups in society to reflect upon in order to “generate new ends and new conceptions of ends.” It is with respect to the original mode of crusading activity that Pope Urban concerns himself—a translatio from Islamic to Christian rule beginning in the central and western Mediterranean and extending to the eastern Mediterranean. While historians rush to guarantee the fixity of the Crusades, so that each Crusade preserves in some fashion the basic character of the so-called “First” Crusade, Pope Urban's understanding of the Crusades introduces us to a mutable and ever-evolving historical reality.
- 1The Crusader States, New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 2012, 20 (“the crusade had been created by the pope [i.e., Urban II]”); Holy Warriors: A Modern History of the Crusades, London: Bodley Head, 2009, 29 (“the crusade was invented by Pope Urban II in 1095”). See also , Holy Warriors, 326 and 350, where crusading is characterized as “a creation of the papacy.” Scholarly works, too numerous to be cited here, credit Pope Urban II with creating, inventing, or bringing into existence the Crusades; originating, initiating, inaugurating, launching, or setting in motion the Crusades; fusing together the elements that constitute crusading; or instituting a Church council that was the starting point of the Crusades.,
- 2Die Entstehung des Kreuzzugsgedankens, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1935, 285, 306, 307, 308, 309, 319; translated as C. Erdmann, The Origin of the Idea of Crusade, trans. Marshall W. Baldwin and Walter Goffart, ed. Marshall W. Baldwin, Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1977, 307, 331, 332, 333, 334, 348; , La guerre sainte: la formation de l'idée de croisade dans l'Occident chrétien, Paris: Aubier, 2001, 289; idem, La croix, la tiare et l'épée: la croisade confisquée, Paris: Payot, 2010, 120 (“la plupart des éléments de l'appel de Clermont sont déjà rassemblés dans la pensée d'Urbain II”). Not all scholars agree that the Crusades began through the agency of Pope Urban. During the twentieth century, scholars from France (Joseph Bédier, Ernest Petit, Prosper Boissonnade, Maurice Chaume, Augustin Fliche), Spain (José Goñi Gaztambide, Manuel Riu Riu), and Great Britain (Arnold J. Toynbee, Christopher Tyerman) challenged this view. Joshua Prawer of Israel, who adheres to the traditional starting date of the Crusades in 1095, has raised doubts that “any one man, institution or ideology can be directly credited with its inception” ( , The Crusaders' Kingdom: European Colonialism in the Middle Ages, New York: Praeger, 1972, 5). Carl Erdmann accepts that crusading depended on “something that Urban first brought about” in 1095, namely, “the unification of holy war with pilgrimage” ( , Entstehung, 319; , Origin, 348), but he nonetheless speaks about crusading in the period prior to 1095 in a language that contradicts that very affirmation. See , “The Islamic Interpretation of the Crusade: A New (Old) Paradigm for Understanding the Crusades,” Der Islam 83, 2006, 90–136: 121–36. It is this inconsistency that raised the hackles of Crusade scholars, such as Michel Villey, Paul Rousset, John Cowdrey, Jonathan Riley-Smith, and Norman Housley. The contradiction between crusading reality and Erdmann's theoretical model that is supposed to represent it emphasizes the need for a new approach—one that establishes consistency between the reality of crusading and the theory of crusading. In his groundbreaking study of the “First” Crusade, Peter Frankopan looks, “not to the foothills of central France” and to “Urban's call to arms at Clermont,” “to understand the origins of the Crusade,” “but to the imperial city of Constantinople,” where “a direct appeal for help from the emperor of Constantinople, Alexios I Komnenos,” “triggered Urban's call to arms,” which “was shaped by an agenda that was to a large extent set by Alexios in Constantinople” (The First Crusade: The Call from the East, London: Bodley Head, 2012). Scholars who have raised foundational questions concerning the Crusades hardly speak in unison, but the issues that they have highlighted are important ones and deserve discussion and debate. Unfortunately, Christopher Tyerman's monograph-length study of Crusade historiography that encompasses a chronological span stretching back to the “First” Crusade does not discuss the many debates arising over foundational questions on the Crusades (see The Debate on the Crusades, Manchester: Manchester UP, 2011). Tyerman is especially remiss in not examining the foundational debate that he himself ignited with the publication of his controversial book, The Invention of the Crusades (Toronto: U. of Toronto P., 1998).,
- 3Holy Warriors, 1.,
- 4See below n37, and text.
- 5See below n54, and text.
- 6The term “crusade” (med. L., cruciata, cruzata, croata, OFr. croisee, Pr. crozada, Sp. cruzada, Cat. croada, It. crociata) is derived from the Latin compound crucesignatus, or cruce signatus, literally meaning “marked with the cross,” which first appeared long after the Crusades emerged as a political force and stemmed from a practice introduced by Urban II of having Crusaders wear the sign of the Cross on their clothing. This term can properly be applied to wars that began in the eleventh century with a Christian reconquest in the Mediterranean unfolding in three stages: first, in the central Mediterranean; next, in the western Mediterranean; and, by the end of the century, in the eastern Mediterranean. The Crusades, as conventionally understood, are considered not to have begun until the third stage of this sequential progression was reached with the expedition of 1095–99 to “rescue Jerusalem and the other Churches of Asia from the power of the Saracens” (“expeditio … ad Ierusalem et alias Asie ecclesias a Sarracenorum potestate eruendas,” Robert Somerville , ed., The Councils of Urban II, vol. 1, Decreta claromontensia, Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert, 1972, 124). Although the term “crusade” did not exist in the eleventh century, and was not, until the modern era, the unitarily accepted term for an enterprise arising from the reconquest of Mediterranean Christian lands from the Muslims, it can safely be assumed that crusading had a fundamentum in re, a foundation in reality, prior to the activity of men's minds to name it, conceptualize it, and give it an intellectual content. The absence of a unitary term for crusading cannot be taken as evidence for the absence of crusading. Throughout the course of the Crusades, there was never any absence of terms and expressions for the activity later to be designated by the term “crusade,” and, as we shall see below, the use of a descriptive phrase, instead of a unitary term, appears to be how Pope Urban first expressed the concept of crusading as a series of specific deeds and events of reconquest and restoration of the lost lands of Christendom. Crusading had from the beginning a rich lexicon, and a multiplicity of descriptive terms and evocative expressions were used to describe it. “What we now call Crusade, whatever definition we give it, … preceded the appearance of the term coined later to describe it” ( , La croix, 232).
- 7See below n37, and text, and La guerre sainte, 357; idem, “De Barbastro à Jérusalem: plaidoyer pour une redéfinition de la croisade,” in Aquitaine-Espagne (VIIIe-XIIIe siècle), ed. Philippe Sénac , Poitiers: Centre d'études supérieures de civilisation médiévale, 2001, 129–146: 146; idem, “Pour une redéfinition de la croisade,” Cahiers de civilisation medievale 47, 2004, 329–349: 349; La croix, 31. For other expositions of this interpretation, see below n35, and text, and , Un pape français: Urbain II, Paris: Librairie Victor Lecoffre, 1903, 279; , Papal Crusading Policy: The Chief Instruments of Papal Crusading Policy and Crusade to the Holy Land from the Final Loss of Jerusalem to the Fall of Acre 1244–1291, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1975, 10–11; , Histoire d'une idéologie: la croisade, Lausanne: L'Age d'homme, 1983, 9; , Medieval French Literature and the Crusades (1100–1300), Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1988, 18; , “The Firanj Are Coming,” Orbis: A Journal of World Affairs 48, Winter 2004, 3–17: 4; , Crusader Art in the Holy Land: From the Third Crusade to the Fall of Acre, 1187–1291, Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2005, 513; , Croisades et croisés au Moyen Âge, Paris: Flammarion, 2006, 335.,
- 8See below n54, and text, and The Later Crusades, 1274–1580: From Lyons to Alcazar, Oxford: Oxford UP, 1992, 2; , “The Hierarchy of Violence in Twelfth- and Thirteenth-Century Canonists,” International History Review 17, 1995, 670–692: 680–1; Fighting for Christendom: Holy War and the Crusades, Oxford: Oxford UP, 2004, 30–31; , The Crusades, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2004, xlvi–xlvii; , The Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, New York: Columbia UP, 2008, 9–10 (“war that was both holy … and penitential,” papal authorization, indulgence, vow, and Cross); , “The Papacy and War against the ‘Saracens,’ 795–1216,” International History Review 10, 1988, 174–197: 189 (“papal benediction, dispensation, indulgence, and the crusader vow, and theoretically expressed in the doctrine of the just war”); Crusades and the Expansion of Catholic Christendom, 1000–1714, London: Routledge, 2005, 101 (“papal initiative and authorization, the indulgence or remission of sin, pilgrimage, the vow and the taking of the cross”); , “Crusade and Conquest,” in: The Cambridge History of Christianity, vol. 4, Christianity in Western Europe, c. 1100–c. 1500, eds Miri Rubin and Walter Simons , Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2009, 346 (papal authorization, indulgence, vow, Cross, and Just War rationalization); , “Alfonso I and the Memory of the First Crusade: Conquest and Crusade in the Kingdom of Aragón-Navarre,” in Crusades: Medieval Worlds in Conflict, eds Thomas F. Madden , James L. Naus , and Vincent T. Ryan , Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2011, 75–94: 78 (papal authorization, “spiritual and temporal privileges,” vow, and Cross).,
- 9The Just War in the Middle Ages, Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1975, 294 (pilgrimage, vow, Holy War, and just war); , The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, Philadelphia, PA: U. of Pennsylvania P., 1986, 30 (papal authorization, pilgrimage, indulgence, vow); idem, Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 52 (“warfare … holy and penitential,” papal authorization, vow, and Cross); , The Avignon Papacy and the Crusades, 1305–1378, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986, 1–2 (indulgence, vow, Cross, and Crusader privileges); idem, Religious Warfare in Europe, 1400–1536, Oxford: Oxford UP, 2002, 12 (indulgence, vow, and Cross); , Fideles Crucis: The Papacy, the West, and the Recovery of the Holy Land, 1274–1314, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991, 5 (papal authorization, indulgence, vow, and Crusader privileges); , “Was ist eigentlich ein Kreuzzug?,” Historische Zeitschrift 259, 1994, 297–336: 307 (the idea that God initiates and orders war to bring about an epochal change); Histoire des croisades, Paris: Fayard, 1996; translated as J. Richard, The Crusades, c. 1071–c. 1291, trans. Jean Birrell, Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999, ix, 259–63 (indulgence, Cross, and privileges of protection); , “The War of the Pope,” in The Islamic World and Europe during the Age of Crusades, eds Eduard Fuchs , Peter Feldbauer , Michael Mitterauer , John Morissey , and Andrea Schnöller , Wien: Verein für Geschichte und Sozialkunde, 1998, 5–20: 6–7 (papal authorization); idem, , Warum Europa? Mittelalterliche Grundlagen eines Sonderwegs, Munich: C.H. Beck, 2003, 201–202; translated as Michael Mitterauer, Why Europe? The Medieval Origins of Its Special Path, trans. Gerald Chapple, Chicago, IL: U. of Chicago P., 2010, 197 (papal authorization); , Crusading Peace: Christendom, the Muslim World, and Western Political Order, Berkeley, CA: U. of California P., 2002, 84 (indulgence, vow, and papal protection); Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain, Philadelphia, PA: U. of Pennsylvania P., 2003, 21 (papal authorization, indulgence, vow, and Cross); , Crusading and the Crusader States, Harlow, UK: Pearson/Longman, 2004, 7 (papal authorization, spiritual rewards); , The Crusades: A Very Short Introduction, Oxford: Oxford UP, 2005, 81 (“the vow, the cross, plenary indulgence, and temporal privileges”); idem, God's War: A New History of the Crusades, London: Allen Lane, 2006, 50 (“war as penance, Jerusalem and the Holy Land, papal authorization”); , Contesting the Crusades, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006, 20 (“assumption of the cross with the intention of engaging in penitential combat, in response to a cause that was defined as holy by the pope and preached by the Church”); , The Popes and the Baltic Crusades, 1147–1254, Leiden: Brill, 2007, 4 (spiritual rewards, vow, and papal protection); , The Second Crusade: Extending the Frontiers of Christendom, New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 2007, 247 (indulgence, vow, and Cross); idem, Holy Warriors, 2 (pilgrimage, idea of Holy War, and offer of salvation); , Die Kreuzzüge, 4th ed., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2008, ix; translated as N. Jaspert, The Crusades, trans. Phyllis G. Jestice, London: Routledge, 2006, vii (papal authorization and indulgence); , The Papacy and Crusading in Europe, 1198–1245, London: Continuum, 2009, 1 (papal authorization, indulgence, and vow); , The Crusades: The War for the Holy Land, London: Simon & Schuster, 2010 199 (papal authorization, indulgence, vow, and Cross); Crusades,” in The Oxford Dictionary of the Middle Ages, ed. Robert E. Bjork , 4 vols., Oxford: Oxford UP, 2010, 1: 469–74: 469 (papal authorization, indulgence, vow, and temporal privileges); , “Crusades: Historiography (1095–1183),” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Medieval Warfare and Military Technology, ed. Clifford J. Rogers , New York: Oxford UP, 2010, 1: 502–11: 504 (“papal authority, crusader vows, and the remission of sins”).,
- 10Geschichte der Kreuzzüge, 10th ed., Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2005, 252, 376n125; La croix, 11, 56, 265 (“pour inciter les guerriers à mener, à l'initiative de la papauté, d'autres combats contre ses adversaires musulmans, païens, hérétiques ou rivaux politiques de toute sorte”), 268 (“la captation du concept par le Saint-Siège”), 275.,
- 11A Crusade with no parts is presupposed by Erdmann in the statement, “the crusading idea became articulate only after it had developed in real life” (Entstehung, 133; , Origin, 147). A Crusade with no parts is also implied in three statements by Christopher Tyerman: (1) “During the Third Crusade, as in the First, the practice of crusading fashioned the institution [of crusading], not vice versa”; (2) “The development of crusading was fuelled by practice, not theory”; (3) “Traditions, ideology and institutions grew up thickly around [crusading] wars” , Invention, 24, 40; idem, Debate, 2). I explain elsewhere that once crusading was initiated, the Church moved to create institutions that would assist it; the institutional components of crusading were not created all at once but were adopted piecemeal (see , “Canon 2 of the Council of Clermont  and the Crusade Indulgence,” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 37, 2005, 253–322).,
- 12Entstehung, 319; Erdmann, Origin, 348.,
- 13The First Crusaders, 1095–1131, Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1997, 77; idem, “Introduction,” in The First Crusade: Origins and Impact, ed. Jonathan Phillips , Manchester: Manchester UP, 1997, 1–4: 1; idem, “Islam and the Crusades in History and Imagination, 8 November 1898–11 September 2001,” Crusades 2, 2003, 151–167: 166–7; idem, The Crusades: A History, 2nd ed., New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 2005, 8; idem, Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 9.,
- 14First Crusaders, 10, 48, 49, 51, 52, 66, 68, 77, 162; idem, “The State of Mind of Crusaders to the East, 1095–1300,” in The Oxford Illustrated History of the Crusades, ed. Jonathan Riley-Smith , Oxford: Oxford UP, 1995, 66–90: 80, 90; idem, “The Crusading Heritage of Guy and Aimery of Lusignan,” in Cyprus and the Crusades: Papers Given at the International Conference “Cyprus and the Crusades,” Nicosia, 6–9 September 1994, eds Nicholas Coureas and Jonathan Simon Christopher Riley-Smith , Nicosia: Cyprus Research Centre, 1995, 31–45: 37; idem, “Erdmann and the Historiography of the Crusades, 1935–1995,” in La Primera Cruzada novecientos años después: el Concilio de Clermont y los orígenes del movimiento cruzado, ed. Luis García-Guijarro Ramos , Madrid: L. García-Guijarro, 1997, 17–29: 19; idem, “The Idea of Crusading in the Charters of Early Crusaders, 1095–1102,” in Le Concile de Clermont de 1095 et l'appel à la croisade: Actes du Colloque universitaire international de Clermont-Ferrand (23–25 juin 1995) organisé et publié avec le concours du Conseil régional d'Auvergne, ed. André Vauchez , Rome: Ecole française de Rome, Palais Farnèse, 1997, 155–166: 162; idem, “Introduction,” 4; idem, “Rethinking the Crusades,” First Things 101, March 2000, 20–23: 20; idem, “Christian Violence and the Crusades,” in Religious Violence between Christians and Jews, ed. Anna Sapir Abulafia , Houndmills, UK: Palgrave, 2002, 3–19: 7; idem, “The Crusades, 1095–1198,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 4, C. 1024–c. 1198, eds David Luscombe and Jonathan Riley-Smith , 2 vols., Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2004, 4/1: 534–563: 537; Crusades: A History, 9, 10, 12, 80, 113, 120; idem, “Christians of the Middle East under the Franks: I. Motives for the Crusades: A European Perspective,” in Christianity: A History in the Middle East, eds Habib Badr , Suad Abou el Rouss Slim , and Joseph Abou Nohra , Beirut: Middle East Council of Churches, Studies & Research Program, 2005, 548–558: 550; idem, Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 27, 29, 31, 32, 33, 36, 39; idem, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious in the Holy Land, Notre Dame, IN: U. of Notre Dame P., 2009, 12–13; idem, What Were the Crusades? 4th ed., San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 2009, 55, 56, 58, 88, 89; idem, The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, 2nd ed., Philadelphia, PA: U. of Pennsylvania P., 2009, 7; idem, The Knights Hospitaller in the Levant, c. 1070–1309, Houndmills, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012, 9, 10; , “Were There Any Crusades in the Twelfth Century?” English Historical Review 110, 1995, 553–577: 568; Invention, 21; idem, “What the Crusades Meant to Europe,” in The Medieval World, eds Peter Linehan and Janet L. Nelson , London: Routledge, 2001, 131–145: 132, 137; idem, Fighting, 47, 112; idem, Crusades: Short Introduction, 26, 77; idem, God's War, 67, 71, 72, 243, 248, 250, 251, 253, 256, 258, 259, 260, 263, 266, 567, 650, 652, 656, 661, 662; idem, The Crusades, New York: Sterling Publishing, 2009, 27, 97; idem, “Expansion and the Crusades,” in A Companion to the Medieval World, eds Carol Lansing and Edward D. English , Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009, 455–474: 459; Debate, 22, 190, 202, 219; , The Armenian Kingdom in Cilicia during the Crusades: The Integration of Cilician Armenians with the Latins, 1080–1393, Richmond, VA: Curzon, 2000, 84, 86; , Cross Purposes: The Violent Grammar of Christian Atonement, Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2001, 101, 102, 103; , Crescent and Cross: The Battle of Lepanto, 1571, London: Cassell, 2003, 113; , Crusading, 10; , “Peregrinatio sive expeditio: Why the First Crusade was not a Pilgrimage,” al-Masāq: Islam and the Medieval Mediterranean 15, 2003, 119–137: 124, 128; War, Penance and the First Crusade: Dealing with a ‘Tyrannical Construct,’” in Medieval History Writing and Crusading Ideology, eds Tuomas M. S. Lehtonen and Kurt Villads Jensen , Helsinki: Finnish Literature Society, 2005, 51–63: 53; , Contesting, 3, 7, 112; idem, Fighting for the Cross: Crusading to the Holy Land, New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 2008, 24, 171; , Postcolonial Imagination and Feminist Theology, Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005, 13; , Just Wars: From Cicero to Iraq, Cambridge: Polity Press, 2006, 45, 46, 47; , “Entre historiographie et histoire: aux origines de la guerre sainte en Occident,” in Regards croisés sur la guerre sainte: Guerre, idéologie et religion dans l'espace méditerranéen latin (XIe-XIIIe siècle); Actes du Colloque international tenu à la Casa de Velázquez (Madrid) du 11 au 13 avril 2005, eds Daniel Baloup and Philippe Josserand , Toulouse: CNRS-Université de Toulouse II-Le Mirail, 2006, 67–90: 70, 79, 80, 81, 83, 86, 87, 88; idem, Une chrétienté romaine sans pape: l'Espagne et Rome (586–1085), Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2010, 502, 509; , Popes, 4, 5, 11, 65, 77–8, 129, 250, 251, 254, 255; idem, “Riga and Rome: Henry of Livonia and the Papal Curia,” in Crusading and Chronicle Writing on the Medieval Baltic Frontier: A Companion to the Chronicle of Henry of Livonia, eds Marek Tamm , Linda Kaljundi , and Carsten Selch Jensen , Farnham: Ashgate, 2011, 209–227: 218, 219; , Second Crusade, xxiii; , Crusading Spirituality in the Holy Land and Iberia, c. 1095–c. 1187, Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2008, 11, 95, 122, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 155, 168, 169, 170, 173; , “The Prehistory of the Crusades: Toward a Developmental Taxonomy,” History Compass 6, 2008, 884–897: 892, available at: http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1478-0542.2008.00525.x/full, accessed 20 February 2012; God's Battalions: The Case for the Crusades, New York: HarperOne, 2009, 105–109; Long Time Going: Religion and the Duration of Crusading,” International Security 34, Fall 2009, 162–193: 175; Les harangues de la bataille de l'Étendard (1138),” Médiévales 57, Autumn 2009, 15–32: 22; Crusades: Historiography,” 503; , The Sign of the Cross: From Golgotha to Genocide, New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2011, 150; , Crusading as an Act of Vengeance, 1095–1216, Farnham: Ashgate, 2011, 3, 125; , “Alfonso I,” 83, 85; , “The Crusades and Church Art in the Era of Las Navas de Tolosa,” Anuario de historia de la Iglesia 20, 2011, 237–60: 243; , “The French Recent Historiography of the Holy War,” in La Papauté et les croisades/The Papacy and the Crusades: Actes du VIIe Congrès de la Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East/Proceedings of the VIIth Conference of the Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East, ed. Michel Balard , Farnham: Ashgate, 2011, 45–51: 47; Armies of Heaven: The First Crusade and the Quest for Apocalypse, New York: Basic Books, 2011, 25; After Augustine: Humility and the Search for God in Historical Memory,” in Learned Ignorance: Intellectual Humility among Jews, Christians and Muslims, eds James L. Heft , Reuven Firestone , and Omid Safi , Oxford: Oxford UP, 2011, 191–209: 201; , Christian-Jewish Relations, 1000–1300: Jews in the Service of Medieval Christendom, Harlow, UK: Pearson/Longman, 2011, 138; , Theorizing Medieval Geopolitics: War and World Order in the Age of the Crusades, New York: Routledge, 2012, 106, 107, 124, 125, 126, 131, 157, 158, 159, 160.,
- 15Contesting, 13.,
- 16God's War, 56.,
- 17See above, n9 and n10, and text, and below, n20, n35, n37, n54, and text. Other than the requirement of “a specific and clearly defined geographical objective,” Riley-Smith's set of core crusading characteristics, first put forward in 1977, exactly matches Mayer's set of characteristics: papal authorization, indulgence, vow, Cross, and Crusader privileges (see below, n37 and n54, and text, and Kreuzzüge, 10th ed., 377n125).,
- 18Constable adds that he is “reluctant to exclude the ‘popular’ crusades [from the realm of legitimate crusading] or to deny that at least a spiritual orientation towards Jerusalem was an essential aspect of crusading” (The Historiography of the Crusades,” in Giles Constable , Crusaders and Crusading in the Twelfth Century, Farnham Ashgate, 2008, 3–43: 18–19 [originally published in Angeliki E. Laiou and Roy P. Mottahedeh, eds, The Crusades from the Perspective of Byzantium and the Muslim World, Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2001, 1–22]). He specifies “the defining characteristics of a crusade” as a papal summons, spiritual and temporal privileges, solemn vows, and the Cross (see , “The Fourth Crusade,” in Constable , Crusaders and Crusading, 321–347: 325)., “
- 19Just as Riley-Smith maintains that the Crusades are dependent on certain key elements attributable to Pope Urban, Jean Flori likewise maintains that the Crusades are contingent upon a cacophony of “ingredients” credited to this pope and “his” Crusade (La croix, 10, 11, 51, 147, 252–68, 274). Alain Demurger agrees with this assessment and finds that the Crusades require seven active “ingredients”: “Un contexte—favorable—de réforme, un pape inspiré, l'idée de la libération des Églises d'Orient, la guerre sainte, le pèlerinage pénitentiel, la rémission des péchés et Jérusalem. De cet amalgame (lui aussi divin, car inspiré par Dieu!) naît la croisade: une idée neuve, un objet historique nouveau” ( , Croisades, 52). Maureen Purcell lists papal authorization, “spiritual and temporal advantages,” the crusading vow, and the Cross as being essential elements of the Crusades ( , Papal Crusading Policy, 10–11). David Trotter contends that the essential elements are: “cross, indulgence, role of the papacy, notion of recovering the hereditas Christi in the East” ( , Medieval French Literature, 21). Jaroslav Folda maintains that the essential characteristics are papal authorization, indulgence, vow, Cross, and Crusader privileges ( , Crusader Art, 513).,
- 20In 1993, Riley-Smith dubbed his own interpretation of the Crusades “pluriformity” and claimed that it had “won the day.” The term “pluriformity” indicates a diversity or variety of forms, which Riley-Smith clearly does not accept with respect to the Crusades, because he contends that all Crusades come in one form, that of “a penitential war pilgrimage,” and are united by this fact, as well as by being “united by common elements,” which constitute the “unchanging features of crusading” (History, the Crusades and the Latin East, 1095–1204: A Personal View,” in Crusaders and Muslims in Twelfth-Century Syria, ed. Maya Shatzmiller , Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1993, 1–17: 9–10; idem, Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 9, 52; see below n54, and text). The journal Crusades frames the plurality of Crusades, not in terms of a diversity of forms, but in terms of a diversity of geographical settings and a diversity of opponents confronted, while it sets strict chronological limits on the Crusades: 1095–1798 (see and , “Editors' Statement,” Crusades 1, 2002, ix–x: ix; description on back cover, Crusades 1–10, 2002–2011). A truly pluralistic conception of the Crusades has not found support among scholars working in the field of Crusade history. What passes for pluralism in this field of study is a form of monism that is so riddled with internal contradictions that Norman Housley, a self-proclaimed “pluralist,” has abandoned the so-called “pluralist” school of Crusade historians and has embraced a new theory, “modified traditionalism,” a monistic interpretation of the Crusades that views non-Holy Land Crusades as “purely ersatz ventures” ( , Contesting, 5, 10)., “
- 21See below, n. 37, and text.
- 23Geschichte der Kreuzzüge, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1965, 263.,
- 24Contesting, 166.,
- 25Entstehung, 365; , Origin, 357–358.,
- 26Entstehung, vii; , Origin, xxxiii.,
- 27Entstehung, 246; , Origin, 265. Tyerman cites this passage with approval (see , Debate, 186). Erdmann does not develop his thesis of the origin of the Crusades in wars against heretics, pagans, and fellow Christians in any systematic way, but he does identify Pope Leo IX's campaign against the Normans in southern Italy in 1053 as a “crusade against the Normans” (Normannenkreuzzug; , Entstehung, 251; , Origin, 270).,
- 28The Erdmann Thesis and Canon Law,” in Crusade and Settlement: Papers Read at the First Conference of the Society for the Study of Crusades and the Latin East and Presented to R. C. Smail, ed. Peter W. Edbury , Cardiff: University College Cardiff P., 1985, 37–45: 42n16., “
- 29Prehistory,” 884., “
- 30Warum Europa? 209; , Why Europe?, 205.,
- 31Ernst Cassirer offers a critique of the Aristotelian theory of concept formation in which differences between similar things are excluded by abstracting their common characteristics. According to Cassirer, the fatal flaw in obtaining general concepts by “selecting from a plurality of objects … only the similar properties, while [neglecting] the rest,” lies in reducing the content of our knowledge, because “what is merely a part has taken the place of the original sensuous whole,” and “there is nothing to assure us that the common properties, which we select from any arbitrary collection of objects, include the truly typical features, which characterize and determine the total structures of the members of the collection.” A concept that arises through abstraction, Cassirer maintains, gains its fundamental form by a process of negation: “If we merely follow the traditional rule for passing from the particular to the universal, we reach the paradoxical result that thought, in so far as it mounts from lower to higher and more inclusive concepts, moves in mere negations. … What enables the mind to form concepts is just its fortunate gift of forgetfulness, its inability to grasp the individual differences everywhere present in the particular cases. … If we adhere strictly to this conception, we reach the strange result that all the logical labor which we apply to a given sensuous intuition serves only to separate us more and more from it. Instead of reaching a deeper comprehension of its import and structure, we reach only a superficial schema from which all peculiar traits of the particular case have vanished” (Ernst Cassirer, Substanzbegriff und Funktionsbegriff: Untersuchungen über die Grundfragen der Erkenntniskritik, Berlin: Bruno Cassirer, 1910, 8, 23–24; translated as Ernst Cassirer, Substance and Function, in Substance and Function, and Einstein's Theory of Relativity, trans. William Curtis Swabey and Marie Collins Swabey, Chicago, IL: Open Court, 1923, 1–346: 6–7, 18–19). In the case of the Crusades, the abstractionist theory of concept formation has produced an idea of crusading that is reduced in content and in scope, and is associated with extrinsic, rather than intrinsic, properties.
- 32Housley remarks “that all of the features that [‘the pluralist position'] regards as characterizing a crusade were present in the First Crusade” (Contesting, 14n51).,
- 33Debate, 210.,
- 34“En premier lieu, le mot CROISADE désignera toujours, pour moi, la guerre religieuse proprement dite, provoquée par l'octroi solennel de privilèges ecclésiastiques, et entreprise pour le recouvrement direct ou indirect des Lieux Saints” (italics in original) (Inventaire critique des lettres historiques des croisades,” Archives de l'Orient latin 1, 1881, 1–224: 2)., “
- 35Entstehung, vii, 319; , Origin, xxxiii, 348. The texts that Erdmann cites in behalf of his “war-pilgrimage” theory do not really support it. The only evidence he finds to underpin his theory are a few “sources [that] summarily define the crusade as ‘traveling in arms to Jerusalem'” ( , Entstehung, 307n78; , Origin, 331n78). These sources, however, can more accurately be read as evidence against his theory because the condition of “traveling in arms to Jerusalem” appears to be related to the exigencies of a military campaign, which would have required soldiers to travel with their arms, rather than to the possibility that “the new war [was declared] to be an actual pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulcher,” or that “the idea of the armed pilgrimage was proclaimed for the first time at Clermont” ( , Entstehung, 307; , Origin, 331).,
- 36“Ein Kreuzzug im eigentlichen Sinn ist dagegen ein Krieg, der vom Papst ausgeschrieben wird in dem das Gelübde verlangt, der Ablaß und die weltlichen Privilegien bewilligt werden, und der (das scheint wesentlich) auf die Erlangung oder Erhaltung eines ganz bestimmten, geographisch fest umrissenen Zieles gerichtet ist: auf die christliche Herrschaft über das Grab des Herrn in Jerusalem. Man darf sich von den Unternehmen gegen Ägypten nicht täuschen lassen; sie waren nur Mittel, die die Eroberung oder Sicherung Jerusalems vor muslimischer Herrschaft zum letzten Zweck hatten” (Kreuzzüge, 1st ed., 263 [deleted since the 7th ed.]). I thank Alexandru Anca for assistance in translating this passage. For a different translation, cf. Hans Eberhard Mayer, The Crusades, trans. John Gillingham, Oxford: Oxford UP, 1972, 283. Mayer responds to critics of his position in , Zwei deutsche Kreuzzugsgeschichten in Züricher Sicht: eine Replik, Kiel: H. Mayer, 2008).,
- 37Kreuzzüge, 10th ed., 376n125.,
- 38“[L]äßt sich der Kreuzzug nicht nach seiner Organisationsform und politisch-militärischen Zielsetzung definieren” (Kreuzzug,” 300)., “
- 40Papst Urban II (1088–1099), 3 vols, Stuttgart: Hiersemann and Hannover: Hahn, 1964–2012, vol. 2, 354.,
- 41“[E]t antiquum Ecclesie sancte statum pro voluntatis sue beneplacito reparavit” (Urban II to Bishop Gerland of Agrigento [d. 1101], 10 October 1098, in Paolo Collura , ed., Le più antiche carte dell'Archivio capitolare di Agrigento [1092–1282], Palermo: Manfredi, 1961, 22, no. 5). On Pope Urban's “historical-theological schema,” see , Urban II, vol. 2, 344–346, 351–53, 357, 368–72, 398–99; idem, “Urbain II, pape de la croisade,” in Les champenois et la croisade: actes des quatrièmes Journées rémoises, 27–28 novembre 1987, eds Yvonne Bellenger and Danielle Quéruel , Paris: Aux Amateurs de livres, 1989, 9–17: 13–14; idem, “Urbain II et l'Orient,” in Il Concilio di Bari del 1098: Atti del Convegno Storico Internazionale e celebrazioni del IX Centenario del Concilio, eds Salvatore Palese and Giancarlo Locatelli , Bari: Edipuglia, 1999, 123–144: 135–36.
- 42Urban II, vol. 2, 342, 344, 349, 352–54, 356, 361–63, 369, 372–75, 384, 398, 404, and vol. 3, 356, 587, 675, 676; , “Ipse transfert regna et mutat tempora. Bemerkungen zur Herkunft von Dan. 2,21 bei Urban II,” in Deus Qui Mutat Tempora: Menschen und Institutionen im Wandel des Mittelalters; Festschrift für Alfons Becker zu seinem fünfundsechzigsten Geburtstag, eds Ernst-Dieter Hehl , Hubertus Seibert , and Franz Staab , Sigmaringen: J. Thorbecke, 1987, 137–156: 139; , “Kreuzzug,” 303, 304, 319, 328, 335.,
- 43Urban II, vol. 2, 342.,
- 44Kreuzzug,” 301., “
- 45See below n112 and n113, and text.
- 46Kreuzzug,” 334., “
- 47Three Perspectives on Marxism: 1953, 1968, 1995,” in Alasdair C. MacIntyre , Selected Essays, vol. 2, Ethics and Politics, Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2006, 145–158: 157., “
- 48Kreuzzug,” 307, 333., “
- 49“Jede Definition [des Kreuzzugs] … läuft Gefahr, ihn als einen spezifischen Krieg der Kirche von den allgemeinen Entwicklungen der mittelalterlichen Gesellschaft zu trennen, ihn zu einem Ereignis an den Grenzen der Christenheit zu machen, statt seine Verwurzelung in deren zentralen Strukturen herauszustellen” (ibid., 333).
- 50For an account of the revolutionary changes in Europe's international relations with Islam, see Naval Power and Trade in the Mediterranean, A.D. 500–1100, Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1951, 183–251; , “Islamic Interpretation,” 92–93.,
- 51Kreuzzug,” 335 (“sie Ausdruck des inneren Zustandes der lateinischen Christenheit sind”), 336 (“als Reflex des inneren Zustandes der abendländischen Christenheit”)., “
- 52Ibid., 307.
- 53What Were the Crusades?, 1st ed., London: Macmillan, 1977, 15. This definition appears, with minor modifications, in , What Were the Crusades?, 4th ed., 5: after “to contemporaries,” one reads “therefore”; after “authorized by the pope,” one reads “on Christ's behalf”; after “vows,” one reads “and consequently wore crosses”; and, in place of “was expressly equated,” one reads “was equated.” For other attempts to define “crusade” in terms of a single set of common characteristics impervious to change, see , Medieval Canon Law and the Crusader, Madison, WI: U. of Wisconsin P., 1969, 25-6n91; , The Crusades: A Short History, New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 1987, xxviii–xxix; idem, “The Crusading Movement and Historians,” in The Oxford Illustrated History of the Crusades, 1–12: 8–9; idem, “Rethinking the Crusades,” 20; idem, “Crusades, 1095–1198,” 544; idem, Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 9–10; idem, What Were the Crusades? 4th ed., 88–89; and above, n9, n10, n20, n35, n37, and text.,
- 54State of Mind,” 78, 90; idem, First Crusaders, 6, 39, 48, 51, 52, 69, 72, 77, 168, 189; idem, “Erdmann,” 18, 19; idem, “Introduction,” 1, 4; idem, “Christian Violence,” 7; idem, “Islam and the Crusades,” 166–167; idem, Crusades: A History, xxxi, 8, 9, 10, 13, 47, 80; idem, Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 9, 31, 32, 39; idem, What Were the Crusades? 4th ed., 55, 57., “
- 55“Quicumque pro sola devotione, non pro honoris vel pecunie adeptione, ad liberandam ecclesiam Dei Hierusalem profectus fuerit, iter illud pro omni penitentia ei reputetur” (Somerville, Decreta claromontensia, 74). This text is from the second of thirty-two canons recorded in an account of the legislation of the Council of Clermont made by one of the council's participants, Bishop Lambert of Arras. It has been mistranslated by a number of scholars working in the field of Crusade history, who have done so in the same exact way by narrowing the purpose of the Jerusalem Crusade to the liberation of “the Church of God in,” or “at,” “Jerusalem” (see Graeci und Suriani im Palästina der Kreuzfahrerzeit: Beiträge und Quellen zur Geschichte des griechisch-orthordoxen Partriarchats von Jerusalem, Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 2001, 66; , “Canon 2 of the Council of Clermont  and the Goal of the Eastern Crusade: ‘To liberate Jerusalem’ or ‘To liberate the Church of God'?” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 37, 2005, 57–108: 58–65, 104–8). According to Riley-Smith, the aim of the Jerusalem Crusade as described in this text is the liberation of “the Church of God in Jerusalem,” whether specified explicitly or not ( , What Were the Crusades?, 1st ed., 59; idem, First Crusaders, 60; idem, “Idea of Crusading,” 156n7). See also Urban II to all the faithful in Flanders, c. December 1095, in which the goal of the Crusade takes on a specific context in the eastern Mediterranean ( Heinrich Hagenmeyer , ed., Epistulae et chartae ad historiam primi belli sacri spectantes: Die Kreuzzugsbriefe aus den Jahren 1088–1100, Innsbruck: Verlag der Wagner'schen Universitäts-Buchhandlung, 1901, 136: “ad liberationem Orientalium ecclesiarum” [“to liberate the Churches of the East”]).,
- 56First Crusaders, 6; idem, “Introduction,” 1.,
- 57First Crusaders, 69; idem, “State of Mind,” 78; idem, Crusades: A History, 13. Riley-Smith credits Pope Urban with creating, originating, or initiating the Crusades, or fusing together the elements that constitute crusading: , Crusades: Short History, 7 (“the first deviation [from the original objective of crusading] occurred during the First Crusade, was proposed by the originator of crusading [i.e., Urban II]”); idem, First Crusaders, 69 (“the pope [i.e., Urban II] was … creating a new type of pilgrimage [i.e., crusading]”), 189 (“these traditions [i.e., ‘pilgrimage to Jerusalem’ and ‘pious violence'] did not merge gradually together, but were fused by Pope Urban II in 1095”); idem, Crusades: A History, 13 (“he [i.e., Urban II] was … creating a new type of pilgrimage [i.e., crusading]”); idem, What Were the Crusades? 4th ed., 55 (“Urban was … creating a new type of pilgrimage [i.e., crusading]”); idem, “Introduction,” 1 (“Pope Urban II … was initiating a movement which was to last for seven centuries” [i.e., crusading]”).,
- 58Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 33. See also , First Crusaders, 75; idem, “Rethinking the Crusades,” 20; idem, Crusades: A History, xxx–xxxi; idem, “Motives,” 555; idem, What Were the Crusades? 4th ed., 58; , Gateway to the Heavenly City: Crusader Jerusalem and the Catholic West (1099–1187), Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005, 116; , Orientalis ecclesia: Papato, Chiesa e regno latino di Gerusalemme (1099–1187), Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 2010, 32 (“gli uomini che intrapresero la via de Gerusalemme … furono attratti dalla pietra nuda del Santo Sepolcro, meta di un pellegrinaggio che giovava in primo luogo alle loro anime, e soltanto in seconda istanza alla lotta per la difesa della Chiesa”). also finds self-interest to be the pervasive motivator of Crusader action, but he divides self-interest between other-worldly spiritual goals and this-worldly political goals (Pahlitzsch, Graeci und Suriani, 74–75).,
- 59First Crusaders, 69, 74–75; idem, “State of Mind,” 78; idem, Crusades: A History, 13.,
- 60First Crusaders, 69; idem, “State of Mind,” 78; idem, Crusades: A History, 13.,
- 61Muslim authors accurately describe the common purpose behind the Crusade movement: a desire to recover lands that had “originally belonged to the Christians” but had been conquered by Islam and subjected to Islamic rule. See Kitāb al-Tibyān lil-amīr ῾Abd Allāh ibn Buluqqīn, ākhir umarā᾽ Banī Zīrī bi-Gharnāṭah, ed. Amīn Tawfīq al-Ṭībī , Rabat: Manshūrāt ῾Ukāẓ, 1995, 100; translated as ῾Abd Allāh ibn Buluggīn al-Zīrī, The Tibyān: Memoirs of ῾Abd Allāh ibn Buluggīn, Last Zīrid Amīr of Granada, trans. Amin T. Tibi, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1986, 90; , al-Bayān al-mughrib fī akhbār al-Andalus wa-al-Maghrib, tome troisième: Histoire de l'Espagne musulmane au XIème siècle, ed. Évariste Lévi-Provençal , Paris: Paul Geuthner, 1930, 282.,
- 62Urban II, vol. 2, 404.,
- 63Ibid., 333–413.
- 64When noncombatants, such as monks, began thinking of the Jerusalem Crusade as an instrument for attaining salvation, Urban was quick to disabuse them of this notion, telling them that the Crusade was for “soldiers who are heading for Jerusalem with the good intention of liberating the community of Christians … for we are spurring soldiers to undertake this expedition, because they are the ones who can repel the savagery of the Saracens (i.e., Muslims) by their arms and restore the Christian <Churches> to their former freedom” (“Audiuimus quosdam uestrum cum militibus, qui Ierusalem liberandę christianitatis gratia tendunt, uelle proficisci. Recta quidem oblatio, sed non recta diuisio; nos enim ad hanc expeditionem militum animos instigauimus, qui armis suis Saracenorum feritatem declinare et christianorum <ecclesias> possint libertati pristinę restituere”); Urban II to the monks of Vallombrosa, 7 October 1096, in Rudolf Hiestand , ed., Vorarbeiten zum oriens pontificius III: Papsturkunden für Kirchen im Heiligen Lande, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1985, 88–89, no. 2; , Urban II, vol. 2, 390–391, 397, 410.
- 65The Early Islamic Conquests, Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1981; , The Great Arab Conquests: How the Spread of Islam Changed the World We Live In, Philadelphia, PA: Da Capo, 2007.,
- 66Entstehung, vii–viii, 1, 8, 106, 291, 293, 319, 321; , Origin, xxxiii–xxxiv, 3, 10, 117, 313, 316, 348, 349; , “The Genesis of the Crusade: The Springs of Western Ideas of Holy War,” in The Holy War: Papers of the 5th Conference on Medieval and Renaissance Studies, Ohio State University, 1974, ed. Thomas Patrick Murphy , Columbus, OH: Ohio State UP, 1976, 9–32: 13; idem, “The Origin of the Idea of Crusade,” review of The Origin of the Idea of Crusade, by Carl Erdmann, International History Review 1, 1979, 121–125: 122; Knightly Piety and the Lay Response to the First Crusade: The Limousin and Gascony, c. 970–c. 1130, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993, 4–6, 20, 69, 86, 166, 249, 280–81, 285, 288; idem, “The Roots of Lay Enthusiasm for the First Crusade,” History 78, 1993, 353–372; Kreuzzug,” 300, 301, 333, 335–36; , The Two Cities: Medieval Europe, 1050–1320, London: Routledge, 1992, 119; Crusading Peace, 71, 117, 118–19, 121, 123, 126, 129, 183, 184; , Invention, 5; idem, “What the Crusades Meant,” 134, 142; idem, God's War, 7, 54, 72; idem, Debate, 32; , The First Crusade: A New History, Oxford: Oxford UP, 2004, 19–20; , Contesting, 19, 29, 36, 160; idem, “The Crusades and Islam,” Medieval Encounters 13, 2007, 189–208: 195; Fighting, 26, 236, 239.,
- 67Foreword,” in The Atlas of the Crusades, ed. Jonathan Riley-Smith , New York: Facts on File, 1991, 7–8: 8., “
- 68Erdmann,” 29., “
- 69Crusading Movement,” 10. See also , First Crusade, 17–18; idem, Crusades: Short History, 5–6; idem, Crusades: A History, 6–10, 113; idem, “Foreword,” 8; idem, First Crusaders, 44, 48–52, 77, 189; idem, “Crusades, 1095–1198,” 536., “
- 70Speculum 23, 1948, 328–331: 329, 331. Tyerman criticizes Riley-Smith's “religious emphasis in explaining the crusades,” not on the same grounds as LaMonte, but because his analysis “did not go very far,” which recalls Riley-Smith's own criticism of Erdmann: “he did not take things far enough.” Tyerman rightly attributes “the prevailing religious emphasis in explaining the crusades” to Erdmann and his continuing influence on Crusade studies. Erdmann's influence on Riley-Smith is apparent in his “penitential war-pilgrimage” thesis, even though Riley-Smith prefers to see himself as dissenting from Erdmann while accusing Becker, who explicitly opposes Erdmann and his war-pilgrimage paradigm, of presenting “fundamentally a sophisticated restatement of Erdmann's position” (Debate, 189–190, 223, 234; , “Crusading as an Act of Love,” History 65, 1980, 177–192: 192; Journal of Theological Studies 41, 1990, 281–282)., review of Les Origines et les caracteres de la premiere croisade, by Paul Rousset,
- 71Introduction,” 1., “
- 72First Crusaders, 6. See also idem, First Crusade, 139.,
- 73First Crusaders, 74; , Gateway, 116.,
- 74State of Mind,” 77, 78, 84 (“devotional war”); 81, 88 (“war as a devotion”); 90 (“war as a penance and a devotion”)., “
- 75Contesting, 36, 79.,
- 76Ibid., 166. Others disagree. Riley-Smith suggests that what contemporaries understood by crusading has been previously raised and answered: “What did the contemporaries of these crusades think? A crusade came into being when proclaimed by a pope, and it is undeniable that popes, at least officially, made little distinction between the validity of the various theatres of war”( , “Crusading Movement,” 9). Thomas F. Madden stresses the importance of studying different points of view of past events to gain an understanding of history in a recent article ( , “The Venetian Version of the Fourth Crusade: Memory and the Conquest of Constantinople in Medieval Venice,” Speculum 87, 2012, 311–344).
- 77Contesting, 17.,
- 79Ibid., 19, 36.
- 80Crusades and Islam,” 195., “
- 81Contesting, 29.,
- 82Fighting, 26; idem, Contesting, 29.,
- 83Contesting, 29.,
- 84Fighting, 236.,
- 85Ibid., 239.
- 86Contesting, 7, 55.,
- 87Becker, Urban II, vol. 2, 354.
- 88Popes did not originally plan to be the leaders and organizers of the Crusades. Their original goal was to promote crusading by sanctioning crusading campaigns initiated by Christian rulers, and by mobilizing popular and international support for crusading wars by offering incentives to those who served in combat, especially the Crusade indulgence granted from 1063 onward (see Entstehung, 125; , Origin, 138–139; , “Crusade Indulgence”; idem, “‘A Crusade from the First’: The Norman Conquest of Islamic Sicily, 1060–1091,” al-Masāq: Islam and the Medieval Mediterranean 22, 2010, 191–225. In 1074, Pope Gregory VII (r. 1073–85) attempted to galvanize support for a campaign that would “cross to Constantinople to bring aid to Christians who are grievously afflicted by the most frequent ravagings of the Saracens,” and that would “go as far as the sepulchre of the Lord [in Jerusalem].” Gregory may have contemplated leading this expedition himself, since, according to the pope, “men from Italy and from beyond the Alps have accepted this challenge … if they can have myself as leader and as pontiff.” By January 1075, however, Gregory's plans had come to naught, as did the prospect of a pope leading a Crusade ( , Das Register Gregors VII [Gregorii VII registrum lib. I-IX], ed. Erich Caspar , vol. 2, fasc. 1–2, Berlin: Weidmann, 1920–23, 1:70–71, no. 1.46, 1:166, no. 2.31; translated as The Register of Pope Gregory VII, 1073–1085: An English Translation, trans. H.E.J. Cowdrey, Oxford: Oxford UP, 2002, 51, no. 1.46, 123, no. 2.31). It took the Jerusalem Crusade of 1095–99 to push the papacy more into the foreground of crusading leadership and organization, but this was the result of the accidents of political history, rather than the result of a fixed plan from the beginning. The period during which popes were the leaders and organizers of the Crusades spanned roughly a century, from the end of the eleventh century to the beginning of the thirteenth century. During the thirteenth century, the papacy retreated “more into the background” of the crusading enterprise “as the individual states [of the Latin West found] themselves capable of assuming most of the initiative and organization by themselves” (Robert I. Burns, “The Crusader Kingdom of Valencia [1238–1276]: A Study in the Organization of the Mediaeval Frontier,” unpubl. Ph.D diss., The Johns Hopkins University, 1959, 24–25). See also , “Church and Crusade: Frederick II and Louis IX,” Catholic Historical Review 93, 2007, 251–264; A Vacuum of Leadership: 1291 Revisited,” in La Papauté et les croisades, 165–171. Becker, like many historians, posits a gulf between “reconquest” and “crusade,” and regards the active role played by the papacy in the leadership and organization of the Crusades as a feature that distinguishes crusading from pre-1095 activities of “reconquest” in Sicily and Spain (Becker, Urban II, vol. 2, 387–88). Yet if papal leadership and organization is intrinsic to crusading, how can such a “vital” element be eliminated or degraded without undoing the Crusade movement? In actual fact, the type of leadership and organizational structure associated with the Crusades varied over the centuries. The changes wrought in the leadership and the organization of the Crusades illustrate the protean nature of crusading and its ability to adapt to changing conditions. Crusading did not maintain a single form of leadership and organizational practices throughout its long history.,
- 89See below n109, and text.
- 90See above n37, n59, and text, and Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 23.,
- 91After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory, 3rd ed., Notre Dame, IN: U. of Notre Dame P., 2007, 209.,
- 92The Making of Europe: An Introduction to the History of European Unity, New York: Sheed and Ward, 1932, 285.,
- 93“Nam ubi nulla vera unitas ibi nulla vera multitudo” (Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, “Leibniz to Burcher de Volder, Hanover, 30 June 1704,” in Die philosophischen Schriften von Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, ed. Carl I. Gerhardt, 7 vols, Berlin: Weidmann, 1875–90, vol. 2, 267); A Critical Exposition of the Philosophy of Leibniz, With an Appendix of Leading Passages, trans. Bertrand Russell, Cambridge: The University Press, 1900, 242.,
- 94On the Norman conquest of Sicily as the First Crusade, see Chevedden, “Crusade from the First.” Pope Urban's trichotomous view of the Crusades—from Sicily, to Spain, to the eastern Mediterranean—is corroborated by Middle Eastern sources; see Islamic Interpretation”; idem, “The Islamic View and the Christian View of the Crusades: A New Synthesis,” History 93, 2008, 181–200; The View of the Crusades from Rome and Damascus: The Geo-Strategic and Historical Perspectives of Pope Urban II and ῾Alī ibn Ṭāhir al-Sulamī,” Oriens 39, 2011, 257–329., “
- 95“Ou xyniasin hokōs diapheromenon heōutōi homologeei; palintropos harmoniē hokōsper toxou kai lyres” (“Men do not understand how that which is torn in different directions comes into accord with itself,—harmony in contrariety, as in the case of the bow and the lyre”), Heraclitus, Fragment B51, in Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, griechisch und deutsch, 6th ed., ed. Walther Kranz , 3 vols., Berlin: Weidmann, 1951–52, vol. 1, 74; Source Book in Ancient Philosophy, ed. and trans. Charles M. Bakewell, New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907, 31; “intellectus in uno multitudinem comprehendit” (“the intellect comprehends a multiplicity in unity”), , Expositio super librum Boethii De Trinitate, ed. Bruno Decker , Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1955, 211 (pars 3, q. 6, a. 1, co. 22); “perceptio nihil aliud sit, quam multorum in uno expressio” (“perception is nothing but the expression of many things in one”), Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, “Leibniz to Bartholomew Des Bosses, Hanover, 11 July 1706,” in , The Leibniz-Des Bosses Correspondence, eds Brandon Look and Donald Rutherford , New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 2007, 43–45, 44; “L'état passager qui enveloppe et represente une multitude dans l'unité ou dans la substance simple n'est autre chose que ce qu'on appelle la Perception,” Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, “Ohne Überschrift, enthaltend die sogenannte Monadologie,” in , Die philosophischen Schriften, vol. 6, 608 (prop. 14).,
- 96See above n90, and below n109, and text.
- 97Europe and the Seven Stages of Western Culture,” in idem, Understanding Europe, Washington, DC: Catholic U. of America P., 2009, 20–37: 28., “
- 98Entstehung, 103, 113, 116, 118, 123, 133, 152, 164, 165, 197, 210, 268, 272, 274, 293, 294, 295, 308, 309, 317, 320, 325; , Origin, 114, 125, 128, 130, 136, 147, 168, 181, 215, 228, 288, 292, 294, 316, 317, 318, 333, 334, 344, 348, 354; , “Islamic Interpretation,” 126–129.,
- 99Crusades: Short History, xxix; idem, Crusades: A History, xxxi; , “Kreuzzug,” 318; idem, “War, Peace and the Christian Order,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 4, part 1, 185–228: 214.,
- 100Crusading Movement,” 9; , Fighting, 228., “
- 101The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1095–1274, London: E. Arnold, 1981, 2; , Gateway, 117.and ,
- 102Contesting, 19; , Dominion of God: Christendom and Apocalypse in the Middle Ages, Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 2009, 70.,
- 103The Formation of the ‘Crusade Idea,’” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 21, 1970, 11–31: 12; Kreuzzug,” 318; , “The Crusading Movement, 1096–1274,” in The Oxford Illustrated History of the Crusades, 34–65: 44; , “Military Orders and the Beginning of Crusade in Prussia,” in The Crusades and the Military Orders: Expanding the Frontiers of Medieval Latin Christianity; In Memoriam Sir Steven Runciman (1903–2000), eds Zsolt Hunyadi and József Laszlovszky , Budapest: Department of Medieval Studies, Central European University, 2001, 417–428: 418; , Warum Europa? 208; , Fighting, 47; , Crusades, 97; , “Alfonso I,” 77, 78., “
- 104Crusading, 7.,
- 105First Crusade, 5.,
- 106Debate, 2.,
- 107“Si ergo ceterarum prouinciarum milites Asiane ecclesie subuenire unanimiter proposuere et fratres suos ab Saracenorum tyrannide liberare, ita et uos unanimiter uicine ecclesie contra Saracenorum incursus patientius succurrere nostris exortationibus laborate. … Si quis ergo uestrum in Asiam ire deliberauerit, hic deuotionis sue desiderium studeat consummare. Neque enim uirtutis est alibi a Saracenis christianos eruere, alibi christianos Saracenorum tyrannidi oppressionique exponere” (Urban II to Bernat of Besalú, Hugo of Ampurias, Guislabert of Roussilon, and Guillem of Cerdanya, and their knights, c. July 1096, in Paul Kehr , ed., Papsturkunden in Spanien: Vorarbeiten zur Hispania Pontificia, vol. 1, Katalanien, pt. 2, Urkunden und Regesten, Berlin: Weidmann, 1926, 287–288, no. 23; , Urban II, vol. 1, 228–230; vol. 2, 347–48).
- 108“[Dominus] … post multa annorum curricula nostris potissimum temporibus christiani populi pressuras releuare fidem exaltare dignatus est. Nostris siquidem diebus in Asia Turcos in Europa Mauros christianorum uiribus debellauit et urbes quondam famosas religionis sue cultui gratia propensiore restituit, inter quas Oscam quoque pontificalis cathedre urbem sarracenorum tirannide liberatam karissimi filii nostri Petri Aragonensis regis instantia katholice Ecclesie sue reformauit” (Urban II to Bishop Peter of Huesca, 11 May 1098, in La Iglesia de Aragón durante los reinados de Sancho Ramírez y Pedro I (1062?–1104), Rome: Iglesia Nacional Española, 1962, 193, no. 20); , Urban II, vol. 1, 228; vol. 2, 334, 348–49, 351, 383, 400; idem, “Urbain II, pape de la croisade,” 15–16; idem, “Urbain II et l'Orient,” 136. I thank Donald J. Kagay for assistance in translating this text.,
- 109See above n65.
- 110Urban II, vol. 3, 38, 65–70.,
- 111See above n42, and text, and Urban II to Ambrose, first abbot of the monastery of St. Bartholomew on Lipari, just off the northeast tip of Sicily, 3 June 1091, in Urban II, “Epistolae et privilegia,” in J.-P. Migne , ed., Patrologiae cursus completes, Series Latina, 221 vols., Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1841–64, 151, col. 329C-D (hereafter cited as PL); Urban II to Abbot-Bishop Ansgar of Catania, 9 March 1092, in Giuseppe Scalia, “Nuove considerazioni storiche e paleografiche sui documenti dell'Archivio Capitolare di Catania per il ristabilimento della sede vescovile nel 1091,” Archivio storico per la Sicilia orientale, 57 (4th ser., 14), 1961 5–53: 48, no. 1; Urban II, vol. 2, 342–346, 349–51, 359–60, vol. 3, 356.
- 112See above n. 109, and text, and Urban II to Bernard de Sauvetot, archbishop of Toledo, 15 October 1088, in Demetrio Mansilla Reoyo , ed., La documentación pontificia hasta Inocencio III (965–1216), Monumenta Hispaniae vaticana 1, Rome: Instituto Español de Estudios Eclesiásticos, 1955, 43, no. 27; Urban II to Berenguer de Lluçà (d. 1099), bishop of Ausona-Vic, 1 July 1091 in Mansilla, Documentación pontificia, 50–1, no. 32; Urban II to Count Ermengol IV of Urgell, 1 July 1091, in Kehr, Papsturkunden, 286, no. 22; Urban II to Bishop Gomez of Burgos, 14 March 1095, Piacenza, in Urban II, “Epistolae et privilegia,” PL 151, col. 407B-D; Urban II to Bishop Pons of Barbastro, 1099, in Kehr, Papsturkunden, 298, no. 31; , Urban II, vol. 2, 337, 341–42, 346–49, 351, 359, 383, 398, 400, 425, vol. 3, 65, 77, 91, 356, 586–88, 600; idem, “Urbain II, pape de la croisade,” 14–15.
- 113In two letters, Pope Urban assesses in general terms the progress achieved with respect to both translatio and restauratio while the Jerusalem Crusade is underway: Urban II to Bishop Peter of Huesca, 11 May 1098 (see above n109, and text); and Urban II to Bishop Pons of Barbastro, 1099 (see below n115, and text). In three letters issued to galvanize support for the “military enterprise” (procinctus), or “expedition” (expeditio), to Jerusalem, Urban identifies the political objective of the campaign as: “to liberate the Churches of the East,” “the liberation of the Church,” “liberating the community of Christians,” and “restor[ing] the Christian <Churches> to their former freedom”: “procinctum,” “ad liberationem Orientalium ecclesiarum” (Urban II to all the faithful in Flanders, c. December 1095, in Hagenmeyer, Kreuzzugsbriefe, 136); “ecclesiae liberatione” (Urban II to his supporters in Bologna, 19 September 1096, in Hagenmeyer, Kreuzzugsbriefe, 137); “expeditionem,” “liberandę christianitatis,” “christianorum <ecclesias> possint libertati pristinę restituere” (Urban II to the monks of Vallombrosa,7 October 1096, see above n65). In a letter soliciting support for the restoration (restitutionem) of the city and Church of Tarragona, Urban identifies the political objective of the Jerusalem campaign as: “to aid the Churches in Asia and to liberate their brothers from the tyranny of the Saracens” and “to liberate Christians from Saracens”: “Asiane ecclesie subuenire … et fratres suos ab Saracenorum tyrannide liberare,”: “a Saracenis christianos eruere” (Urban II to a number of Catalan counts and their knights, c. July 1096; see above, n108, and text); Urban II, vol. 2, 341–342, 348–49, 351, 386–91.,
- 114“[Q]uod nostris temporibus ecclesia propagatur, Sarracenorum dominatio diminuitur, antiquus episcopalium sedium honor prestante Domino restauratur” (Urban II to Bishop Pons of Barbastro, 1099, in Kehr, Papsturkunden, 298, no. 31); First Crusade, 18; , Urban II, vol. 2, 351, vol. 3, 600.,
- 115See above n109, and text.
- 116See above n42, and text.
- 117See above n56, and text.
- 118See above n108, and text.
- 119“[I]n Saracenorum finibus Ecclesiam Dei plurimum dilatavit” (Urban II to Count Roger of Sicily, 5 July 1098, in Urban II, “Epistolae et privilegia,” PL 151, col. 506C; , De rebus gestis Rogerii Calabriae et Siciliae comitis et Roberti Guiscardi Ducis fratris eius, ed. Ernesto Pontieri , Bologna: Zanichelli, 1927–28, 108 [IV.29]); Becker, Urban II, 2: 350–51, 3: 38, 66–69.
- 120See above n42, n109, and n115, and text, and Urban II to Bernard de Sauvetot, archbishop of Toledo, 15 October 1088, in Documentación pontificia, 43, no. 27; Urban II to Daibert, bishop of Pisa, Anagni, 21 April 1092, in Urban II, “Epistolae et privilegia,” letter 63, PL 151, col. 345A; , Urban II, vol. 2, 342, 351, 353, 357.,
- 121First Crusade, 20. According to Erdmann, “[Pope Urban II] considered the two wars [i.e., the war against ‘Turks in Asia’ and the war against ‘the Moors in Europe'] as parallel undertakings, forming a unit from the spiritual standpoint but separate as campaigns. … This presupposes nothing other than the idea of a common front of Christianity against the heathen” ( , Entstehung, 296, 321; , Origin, 319, 349).,
- 122Likewise, the distinction that Becker draws between Pope Urban's “reconquista texts” and his “Crusade texts” (“Reconquista- und Kreuzzugstexten”) would have made little sense to the pope, particularly in light of the fact that Becker finds these texts in complete agreement with one another (Urban II, vol. 2, 395–396). The absolute dichotomy between “reconquest” and “crusade,” with 1095 forming the dividing line between these realms, is one of the intellectual doctrines that scholars have brought to the study of the Crusades. Becker does not attempt to overcome the conventional “reconquest”-“crusade” dualism. He accepts these categories as they have been traditionally defined, and, while he posits differences between reconquista and Crusade, he nonetheless shows that there is no distinction in kind but only one of degree between these two realms ( , Urban II, vol. 2, 387–388). In other words, what Becker conceives as distinct and separate historical entities is really the same entity at different stages of development. During the eleventh century, crusading developed in degrees and stages through levels of increasing organization and cooperation. The level of activity reached by the Jerusalem Crusade represents the highest degree of international organization and cooperation achieved by a Crusade enterprise up to that time. Although Becker does not surmount the “reconquest”-“crusade” dualism, he does proceed halfway toward this goal by “reconquestifying” crusading (see , Urban II, vol. 1, 229–230, vol. 2, 284, 337, 339, 378, 383–84, 390, 395–400, 403–04, 407, vol. 3, 675–76; idem, “Urbain II, pape de la croisade,” 15, 17; idem, “Urbain II et l'Orient,” 136).,
- 123La croix, 120 (“Pour le pape, la reconquête en Occident et la croisade en Orient sont deux aspects d'une même entreprise de libération de territoires jadis chrétiens”). See also , “Réforme, reconquista, croisade (l'idée de reconquête dans la correspondance pontificale d'Alexandre II à Urbain II),” in idem, Croisade et chevalerie: XIe-XIIe siècles, Bruxelles: De Boeck Université, 1998, 51–80: 77; , “War,” 212 (“Urban II himself considered the two theatres of war [Spain and the Holy Land] as one”).,
- 124Muslim-Christian Conflict and Contact in Medieval Spain: Context and Methodology,” Thought 54, 1979, 238–252: 242; The Many Crusades of Valencia's Conquest (1225–1280): A Historiographical Labyrinth,” in On the Social Origins of Medieval Institutions: Essays in Honor of Joseph F. O'Callaghan, eds Donald J. Kagay and Theresa M. Vann , Leiden: Brill, 1998, 167–177: 177. See also , “‘Soli hispani'? Innocent III and Las Navas de Tolosa,” Hispania Sacra 51, 1999, 487–513: 496–501, esp. 500 (“the language of the Reconquista is the language of the Reformed Papacy”). On the historical construct of reconquista, see now , La Reconquista: una construcción historiográfica (siglos XVI-XIX), Madrid: Marcial Pons Ediciones de Historia, 2011. I thank Damian Smith for alerting me to this publication., “
- 125According to Cassirer, the construction of a series is the most important element in the formation of the concepts of mathematics and the natural sciences that depend upon mathematics: “Without a process of arranging in series, without running through the different instances, the consciousness of their generic connection—and consequently of the abstract object—could never arise. This transition from member to member, however, manifestly presupposes a principle according to which it takes place, and by which the form of dependence between each member and the succeeding one, is determined. Thus from this point of view also it appears that all construction of concepts is connected with some definite form of construction of series. We say that a sensuous manifold is conceptually apprehended and ordered, when its members do not stand next to one another without relation but proceed from a definite beginning, according to a fundamental generating relation, in necessary sequence. It is the identity of this generating relation, maintained through changes in the particular contents, which constitutes the specific form of the concept” (Substanzbegriff, 19–20; , Substance, 15). In a similar way to mathematical concept formation, Urban's concept of Crusade consists in recognizing translatio regni as the serial principle at the heart of crusading, according to which Crusades take place, and by which Crusades are connected together. In the opinion of Tyerman, “the First Crusade was unique and … unrepeatable,” not part of a connected series of events ( , Invention, 8; idem, Debate, 23).,
- 126“Spanien, Sizilien, Kleinasien waren für den Papst—abgesehen von der Frage der Kirchenunion und den Problemen einer päpstlichen Byzanz-politik—in den letzten drei oder vier Jahren seines Pontifikats sozusagen nur drei verschiedene Fronten, an denen sich ein und derselbe Kampf zwischen Christentum und Islam abspielte, und an denen jeder—Spanier, Normanne oder Kreuzfahrer—einen ihm zugewiesenen Platz einnahm und eine durchaus gleichwertige Aufgabe erfüllte” (Urban II, vol. 1, 229–230; see also , Urban II, vol. 3, 675). I thank Diana Darke for assistance in translating this sentence.,
- 127“[R]egnum Christi et ecclesiae a mari usque ad mare usquequaque dilataret” (“expand the kingdom of Christ and the Church everywhere from sea to sea”), Daibert, Archbishop of Pisa, Duke Godfrey, Advocate of the Holy Sepulcher, Raymond, Count of Saint-Gilles, and the entire army of God to Pope Pascal II and all the Christian faithful, September 1099, Latakia, in Kreuzzugsbriefe, 171–172.,
- 128Invention, 1, 6, 23; idem, God's War, 260.,
- 129After Virtue, 273.,