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The Jewish Enlightenment: A Brief Overview

there was a jewish enlightenment?
I would like to hear more about the Jewish Enlightenment

Awesome! And indeed, there was!

It’s fairly long complex process, so I’ll give you a general rundown, and then after reading it, you (or any interested party) can tell me what aspects you’d like to hear more about (if any) and I can write more specific posts for you.

So, after the general European Enlightenment, rulers of various German polities were like “Hey, now that we’re Enlightened, maybe we should stop treating the Jews like crap?” and then others were like “Yeah and once they see how great it is to be part of German society they’ll totes convert to Christianity what a great plan!” So over the course of the late eighteenth, early nineteenth centuries (I’ll have to double check the dates), you see the rulers of various German polities emancipating their Jews.

Some Jews were not interested in becoming parts of German society, but others, like Moses Mendelssohn, embraced the opportunity, and saw acculturation as a path out of oppression. Mendelssohn was one of the (if not the) founding thinkers of the Jewish Enlightenment, and his writings and the intellectual circles he founded influenced must post-Emancipation German Jewish thought and behavior in bourgeois circles. The Hebrew term for the Jewish Enlightenment is “Haskalah.”

While it did result in conversions to Christianity—especially amongst Jewish women—it also led to the German Jewish Reform Movement, created unique patterns of assimilation, and significantly altered Jewish conceptions of gender. German Jewish Enlightenment thinking and action is part of the reason why the actions of the Nazi Party took the Jews so by surprise in the 1930s, and is part of the reason why the German Jews had so much trouble taking Hitler seriously, at least in the early years.

The Haskalah reached Eastern European Jewry in the late nineteenth century—a fictionalization of this process may be seen in Fiddler on the Roof; the daughter who sings Far From the Home I Love marries a maskil, or a secular scholar of the haskalah. In Eastern Europe, the haskalah intersected with the embrace of revolutionary and socialist ideals.

As German and Eastern European Jewry immigrated to the United States between 1820 and 1920, their encounters with iterations of the haskalah in Europe affected the processes of assimilation they underwent in America.

If you read any book from my recommended reading page, it should be Common Sense and a Little Fire: Women and Working-Class Politics in the United States, 1900-1965 (Gender and American Culture) by Annelise Orleck. Don’t get me wrong, I heartily recommend everything on that page (and I’m really behind on updating it aah), but this book is just breathtaking.  Not only is it eminently readable, but it disrupts mainstream notions of the “feminist wave” construction, the suffrage movement, intersectional organizing, the Jewish Lower East Side, labor history, working class women’s activism, and female same sex relationships. Plus my girl Clara Lemlich is one of the four main women used in this analysis (and man I really want to re-write that post).

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I’m still ensconced in end of semester stuff (only a digital preservation final, a historiography paper, and 40 exams to grade until freedom), but just popping in to share this really interesting/important (importinteresting?) piece from The Atlantic with you: American Girls Aren’t Radical Anymore

I grew up reading those books (to provide a point of reference, I’ll be 24 in 10 days), in fact, I think Felicity Saves the Day is the first book I ever read 100% by myself. By the time I was nine years old I had all six books for all five dolls (Jospehina et al were a bit after my time).

Though I soon graduated to Dear America and the Royal Diaries—and then to Philippa Gregory, Jean Plaidy, Alison Weir, and finally to actual history books*—I’ve always perceived the American Girl books as having played an important role in my childhood, and an important role in my love for history.

That said, I never really considered how they shaped my conception of issues such as class, race, gender, and privilege until now. It’s a damn shame that future generations of young girls won’t grow up reading about Addy’s escape from slavery and Samantha’s anti-capitalist rhetoric (I mean, they can still read them, but I can’t say how much appeal they’ll have without the doll tie-in as that’s a huge part of the marketing).

*And now theory heaven help me

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posted 1 week ago and tagged as American Girl history historical fiction

This mini-post bought to you by: Transnational Historiography

One day, after I finish my PhD, I’m going to write a book called “The 1930s Was a Whack-Ass Decade.” (Yale University Press, obvs)

posted 2 weeks ago and tagged as history

The Jewish Refugee Community of Shanghai: 1938-1949

This combined version of my previous posts on this community was written for and is cross-posted to Beyond Victoriana. This post also contains some information not included in previous posts; this community is the subject of my MA thesis, so I will always have more to add. In fact, even re-reading this now I’m thinking “weeellll it was more complicated than that I mean…” but I think it’s long enough for now. If you would like me to, I can elaborate on anything in this post. Just ask. The only thing I cannot elaborate on is my argumentation, as it’s generally a bad idea to post such things online. 

I would just like to note for my Jewish readers that this post has been set to go live today since mid-March, and I did not realize the significance of today when that date was set. So, please be advised that this is not a Yom HaShoah post.            

German Jews did not immediately begin to put their emigration papers in order after Hitler came into power, or after the passing of the Nuremberg Laws, because as far as they were concerned they were fully assimilated Goethe reading, WWI fighting German citizens. They could not believe, and would not believe, that the country they loved would turn against them.

Hitler introduced his anti-Jewish legislation slowly over the course of the 1930’s, giving German Jewry time to rationalize each new piece; this especially held true for Jewish men, as they tended to work in traditionally Jewish occupations. Jewish women, however, through the regular contact with gentiles allowed to them by their place in the home sphere, became aware of the “social death” being imposed on them by Nazi legislation long before their husbands took notice.

In the wake of the mass arrests of Jewish men during Kristallnacht, it fell to these women to free their husbands—typically from Dachau. Nazi officials would not release men until their families provided proof that they would depart from Germany immediately upon their release. Thus, not only did women have to rescue their husbands, but they also had to navigate the emigration process by themselves. Due to the complex legal frameworks enacted by possible destination countries to keep Jewish refugees out, it was immensely difficult for Jews to secure visas out of Germany, made even more difficult when they were confronted with the massive exit tax forced on emigrating Jews.

There was, however, one destination which had not put up legal roadblocks to fleeing Jews: Shanghai—this had more to do with the decentralized and highly colonized nature of Shanghai than it had to do with any sort of altruistic sentiment. While the Chinese government had the right to demand to see emigration papers before new arrivals would be allowed to enter Shanghai, this was seldom enforced. Thus, to get to Shanghai, all fleeing families needed were boat tickets. For this reason—in accordance with the necessity to present proof of emigration to Nazi officials before male family members would be released—Shanghai became the only option available to some of the families of incarcerated men.

The journey to Shanghai began by train to an Italian port. From one of those ports, refugees aboard luxury liners serviced by German, and sometimes Japanese, crews sailed across the Mediterranean, through the Suez Canal, into the Indian Ocean, and around to the east coast of China. Their ship then made its way down the Whangpoo River until it docked at the Bund (Shanghai’s harbor-side financial district). This route was in use until Italy’s entrance into the war on June 10, 1940—although a few ships full of refugees did depart from Portugal and Marseilles before the Mediterranean was fully closed to passenger traffic. After the Mediterranean route closed, Jewish refugees fled to Shanghai via the trans-Siberian Railroad. This overland route took them across Russia, through Siberia, and into North China, where they boarded a ship for Shanghai. The overland route was in use until December 7, 1941. After that date, all escape routes to Shanghai were closed.

Though I’ve focused on German and Austrian Jews, about 1,800 Polish-Lithuanian Jewish refugees—including a large population of yeshiva students—too found refuge in Shanghai. This population of yeshiva students and their families first fled to Vilna, and then to Kovno, Lithuania after the invasion of Poland. The Dutch and Japanese consuls in Kovno collaborated to grant the refugees visas to the Dutch Caribbean holding of Curacao; the trip to Curacao involved a stopover in Kobe, Japan. Both consuls were aware of the fact that it was not possible to cross the Atlantic during a time of open warfare, meaning that they illegally granted the refugees admittance into Japan.

This group of refugees remained in Kobe until 1941, at which point the Japanese government sent them to Shanghai. The Dutch consul, Jan Zwartendijk, was later fired in disgrace, while the Japanese consul, Chiune Sugihara was merely asked to step down. Sugihara, who saved 10,000 Jews total and is listed by Yad Vashem as one of the Righteous Among the Nations, is typically perceived as the Oskar Schindler of the East. However, it is probable that his actions were merely in line with general Japanese policy towards the Jews, which will be expounded upon below.

Map of Shanghai during this period from "Japanese, Nazis, and Jews: The Jewish Refugee Community of Shanghai 1938-1945" by David Kranzler

Map of Shanghai during this period from “Japanese, Nazis, and Jews: The Jewish Refugee Community of Shanghai 1938-1945″ by David Kranzler.

The first wave of refugees to arrive at the Bund in 1938 disembarked with little more to their names than the clothes on their backs, a suitcase or two, and the equivalent of about fifteen American dollars; Nazi policy forbade them to take much else out of the country. This poverty could be seen in each subsequent boat full of refugees. The visible poverty of these Jews embarrassed the established Russian and Sephardic Jewish communities of Shanghai; the Sephardic Jewish community was Baghdadi in origin, and had traveled to Shanghai as businessmen under the auspices of the British Empire, while the Russian Jewish community arrived in Shanghai in two main waves: first fleeing from the pogroms of 1905, and then from the violently anti-Semitic White Russian forces during the Russian Civil War.

One year before the refugees began to arrive, hostilities of the Sino-Japanese War were waged in the streets of the Hongkew district of Shanghai, leading to its partial destruction. Because land and property in Hongkew were thus so inexpensive, and because of the destitution of the new arrivals, Jewish relief organizations in Allied and neutral countries along with the Sephardic and Russian communities in Shanghai—the Hardoon and Kadoorie families in particular—collaborated to set up refugee homes based in Hongkew for the refugees. These homes (Heime), though obviously better than nothing, were crowded, unsanitary, and the time spent there was extremely distressing for the formerly upper middle class refugees.

While some refugees received money from relations in Allied or neutral countries, had smuggled money and/or valuables out of Germany, or had been able to quickly find gainful employment and relocate to the French or International Districts of Shanghai,  many were never able to accumulate the funds needed to secure housing outside of Hongkew. Some, so traumatized by Kristallnacht, leaving Germany, and arriving with nothing to the Heime, so traumatized by their loss of identity, became depressed and never left their Heim; this was especially true for those who had held high status professions in Germany—such as professorships—which could not be adapted to the Shanghai setting.

Shanghai Jewish ghetto

Shanghai, China, 1944, An alley in the Jewish ghetto. Courtesy of the Yad Vashem Photo Archive.

Some refugees were able to establish a fairly normal life in Shanghai, complete with jobs, refugee schools founded by Horace Kadoorie, and synagogue attendance. However, in February 1943, the Japanese rulers of Shanghai announced that all “Stateless Persons” who had arrived in Shanghai after 1937 had to relocate to Hongkew—an area of about one half mile in length already populated by thousands impoverished Chinese refugees—by May 1943. This proclamation was directed at Jewish refugees as an attempt on the part of the Japanese to appease their German allies. The “designated area” to which the refugees were relegated is, and was, colloquially known as the “Shanghai Ghetto.”

Conditions within Hongkew were deplorable, with the available housing insufficient to shield the residents from the extreme temperatures reached in the summer and winter months, lack of access to adequate health care, a contaminated water supply, a barely sufficient sewage system, trash-lined streets, and targeted Allied bombing raids. The refugees also had to contend with poverty, malnutrition, and health problems associated with a contaminated water supply. This said, refugee children were still able to attend school, adults could secure passes out of Hongkew to go to work, and the refugees were so vigorous in shaping their surroundings that by 1944, the main thoroughfare of Hongkew looked more like a street in Vienna than a bombed out section of Shanghai. In fact, the refugees created such a rich cultural life in Hongkew that, when some groups of refugees began to stage theatrical productions, other refugees penned editorials in refugee run periodicals complaining about the quality of said productions.

Shanghai, China, A sports class at the Jewish Youth Association school.  Courtesy of the Yad Vashem Photo Archive. Click for source.

A sports class at the Jewish Youth Association School. Courtesy of the Yad Vashem Photo Archive.

Jewish refugees_cafe

Jewish refugees in a Viennese restaurant established by a Jewish refugee in the 40′s. Courtesy of the Yad Vashem Photo Archive.

Jewish refugees barMen and women at a Shanghai bar. Courtesy of the Yad Vashem Photo Archive.

Despite having forced the Jewish refugee population to relocate to Hongkew, the Japanese took no directly aggressive or violent steps against this population despite the urgings of their German allies. There are two reasons for this, both based in Jewish and Japanese isolation from each other throughout most of their respective histories. The first reason is that the Japanese formed a positive view of the Jewish people after private Jewish American financier Jacob Schiff funded their efforts in the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905). Though positive, this view characterized the Jews as a wealthy, powerful people. Not long after, Japan fought alongside the White Russians in the Russian Civil War. The White Russians circulated the Protocols of the Elders of Zion amongst the Japanese troops, and when this document reached the Japanese government, that body saw it as a confirmation of their prior characterization of the Jews. The Japanese then enacted a policy of appeasing these people with such control over the Western governments. They thus refrained from abusing the Jewish refugees in their care.   

American troops occupied Shanghai in the immediate aftermath of Japan’s 1945 surrender. After a year or so of peace, the refugees once again found themselves in a precarious political position. The economy was failing under the rule of Nationalist leader Chiang Kai-Shek, and every day they received news of the progress made by Mao Zedong’s Communist forces. By 1949, the year in which Mao Zedong established the People’s Republic of China, most of the Jewish residents of Shanghai—Polish, German, Austrian, Russian, and Baghdadi alike—had fled to the United States, Australia, or Israel. By 1956, 171 Jews were left in Shanghai.

A total of about 20,000 Jews (estimates vary) sought refuge in Shanghai. Others—though very few—made it to safety in such locales as the United States, Argentina, and Palestine. Many of the Jews who had fled Germany in the early 1930’s for other European nations ended up trapped in the late 1930’s, early 1940’s as those nations were invaded and occupied by the Nazis. Of the German Jews who escaped from Germany before 1941, only half of them survived the Holocaust.

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At Verdun, he had found himself face to face with a young French soldier. The two boys raised their muskets and simultaneously pulled the triggers. Just before losing consciousness from his stomach wounds, Benno heard the mortally wounded Frenchman utter “Shema Yisroel,” the Jews’ holiest prayer. He had killed a fellow Jew! Profoundly traumatized, he was troubled by this episode for the rest of his life.

Ghetto Shanghai by Evelyn Pike Rubin

In this excerpt from her memoir, Ms. Rubin, a German Jewish woman, recounts an instance experienced by her father, Benno Popielarz, as he fought for Germany in World War I.

I haven’t been able to get this story out of my head since I first read it many months ago, and it has really added a new dimension to how I think about twentieth century European Jewry, and how I think about the Jews who fought in First World War.

Anyway, just wanted to share it with you.

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Two fantastic NYT articles about history, archives…

…culture, politics, and when/how they all intersect that you should all read.

The first one begins:

One day this spring, on the condition that I not reveal any details of its location nor the stringent security measures in place to protect its contents, I entered a hidden vault at the Israel Museum and gazed upon the Aleppo Codex — the oldest, most complete, most accurate text of the Hebrew Bible. The story of how it arrived here, in Jerusalem, is a tale of ancient fears and modern prejudices, one that touches on one of the rawest nerves in Israeli society: the clash of cultures between Jews from Arab countries and the European Jews, or Ashkenazim, who controlled the country during its formative years. And the story of how some 200 pages of the codex went missing — and to this day remain the object of searches carried out around the globe by biblical scholars, private investigators, shadowy businessmen and the Mossad, Israel’s intelligence agency — is one of the great mysteries in Jewish history.

The rest of the article may be found here. (If you ask me, it was an inside job; one of the first things that you learn as an archives student is that the vast majority of thefts are perpetrated by staff members).

And the second one is about an Irish man, Jackie Clarke, who, over the course of a lifetime, collected paper ephemera documenting four centuries of the Irish struggle to free itself from British rule, and the Irish historian, Sinead McCoole, who has spent the past six years processing this vast collection.

The six-week job of selecting the best items for an exhibition fell to Sinead McCoole, an author and historian who came the 150 miles from Dublin. She knew that this curious fish man, Jackie Clarke, was said to have acquired a rare, original copy of the 1916 Easter Proclamation — Ireland’s Declaration of Independence — but local collections rarely warrant the enthusiasm of their owners. Her expectations remained at low tide.

….

Six weeks became six months, and then a year, and then — well, Ms. McCoole is still in Ballina nearly eight years later, still immersed in what is now known as the Jackie Clarke Collection: an astounding treasure of more than 100,000 items that provide an intimate retelling of Ireland’s long struggle to free itself of English rule. Fragile maps and rare newspapers, political posters and editorial cartoons, books, diaries, photographs, films, and even a scrapbook that Clarke began as a boy.

The rest of the article may be found here.

And I’m going to throw in one more. Like a bonus. This piece was penned by an academic librarian about the process of appraising the personal libraries left behind by deceased scholars.

One of the little-known roles of the academic librarian is bereavement counseling: assisting families with the disposition of books when the deceased have not specified a plan for them. Most relatives know these books were the lifeblood of their owners and so of intellectual value if not great monetary worth. But they remain clueless about how to handle them responsibly. Some call used-book shops. Some call the Salvation Army. Others call a university library. Many allow friends and relatives to pick over the shelves before bringing in a professional.

On this particular day I’m standing in the doorway of a distinguished but forlorn library in South Bend, Ind., ready to perform last rites on the extensive collection of James White, a noted historian and specialist in the liturgies and worship practices of the Christian tradition. I always pause before entering these libraries. Even after the family has shown me to the space, I can’t just barge in. That seems disrespectful. I need to be introduced to the books. I need to become acquainted.

Very cool stuff.

Fierce Historical Ladies post: Malintzin

If you’re Mexican, of Mexican descent, or live in a culturally Mexican area, you may know the story of La Llorona.

La Llorana is the tale of a woman named Maria who drowned her children for a chance to be with the man she loved. However, he spurned her affections, and in her heartbreak, she drowned herself in a lake. Upon ascending to the gates of heaven, St. Peter asked her, “Where are your children?” and she had no response. He sentenced her to an eternity of wandering the mortal realm unless she could find her children. Even today, the story goes, she can be found weeping on stormy nights near lakes and rivers. She is said to kidnap wandering children, or children who disobey their parents, in the hope of being able to present them as her own at the gates of heaven.

In some retellings of this story of the mother who murdered her children, Maria has a different name: La Malinche. The name La Malinche is a pejorative name used for the Nahua woman, Malintzin. She later went by the name Doña Marina, which she chose for herself before her baptism.

Malintzin—as I will be referring to her in this post—was a noble of the Nahua people. Her actions take place in the very complex historical setting of the end of Aztec hegemony in what we now refer to as Mexico, and the beginning of the Spanish conquest of Mexico and South America. The relationship between the Aztec Empire and its subsidiary peoples and neighboring polities—which included Mayan groups—informed Malintzin’s contextualized actions, and the actions of other Mexican peoples.

The Nahua were the group from which the Aztec emerged, and were thus privileged within the Aztec sphere of influence. As a noble, Malintzin was afforded a phenomenal education, including an in-depth language instruction. Her father died when she was still quite young, and her mother remarried and soon bore a son to her new husband. For reasons which can never be determined, but which were probably to do with issues of wealth transference, Malintzin’s mother sold her to Mayan slave traders soon after the birth of her son.

Malintzin then disappears from the historical record until a group of Spaniards purchased her in 1519—most estimates put her in her mid to late teenage years at this point. Though Cortes gave her as a gift to one of his men, he decided to keep her at his side as a translator because of her fluency in Mayan and Nahuatl. Sources from this period also speak highly of her looks, which may have also influenced Cortes’ behavior towards her. According to similar sources, she mastered the Spanish language within two weeks of the purchase of her person.

With Cortes, she helped to inform him of revolts against Spanish rule, accompanied him as an interpreter as he put down a rebellion, and acted as a translator between him and Mexican peoples hoping that he would defend them against Aztec hegemonic oppression. Indeed, Adelaida R. Del Castillo argued that the Aztec Empire fell in part as a result of a coalition of their subsidiary peoples acting in concert with the Spanish conquerors.

image

Cortes and Malintzin meet with Aztec Emperor Moctezuma II in 1519, from the Historia de Tlaxcala. Image courtesy of the Bancroft Library.

In 1521, soon after the fall of the Aztec Empire to Spain, Malintzin gave birth to a son fathered by Cortes. As a mark of esteem for her within the Spanish hierarchical system, he married her to Spanish noble Juan Jaramillo before his first return to Spain. Some scholars argue that Malintzin died in 1529, however, others argue that she is alluded to as though she is alive in letters found in Spain dated 1550, and referred to as though she was deceased in letters dated 1551.

Her role as translator and helper to Hernan Cortes, the man who destroyed the Aztec Empire and began the Spanish Empire in the New World, has caused her to be remembered primarily as a traitor, a whore; the woman who handed her people over to the man who slaughtered them and destroyed their civilization. Others remember her as a woman who liberated the Mexican peoples from the oppressive rule of the Aztecs, some characterizing her as the founder the modern Mexican nation. Chicana Feminist literature beginning around the 1960’s sought to attempt to reconstruct her life separated from the actions assigned to her over the past four centuries, and the most recent attempt to reconstruct her life devoid of myth and in historical context was penned by Camilla Townsend.

A problem, however, in the reconstruction of her life and the analysis of her actions is that most of what we know of her comes from Spanish sources; sources penned by Malintzin’s buyers, sellers, owners, and conquerors. Therefore, even the very sources from which she can be reconstructed exist within a colonized context—the academic/theoretical term for the instance in which the only record of a person, or a people, was penned by their oppressor or conqueror is “subalternity,” with the study of these people, or groups, being “subaltern studies.” I use quotes not to imply that I am mocking this form of post-colonial criticism, but because I am introducing the term to those unfamiliar with it.

I chose to write about Malintzin not because I want to reconstruct her life or meditate upon her motivations, but because she is an indigenous American woman whose name has become synonymous with “whore” and “traitor.” Because the most famous indigenous women in North and South American white historical memory* are the ones who Westernized, the ones who aided Western men in their colonialist actions, the ones who were baptized, the ones who married European nobility, and the ones who spent time in Europe. They are the ones who were labeled as traitors to their people and are the ones who have layers of mythologized meanings attached to their names.

These women were acting within a context in which two or more highly complex civilizations encountered each other for the first time. Pocahontas never sat down and thought “Hmmm time to assimilate to European cultural norms and sing songs about the wind,” Sacagawea never thought “Whooo time to accelerate the process of American expansion and the destruction of the life my people have been living for hundreds of years,” and Malintzin never thought “I think I’ll destroy my civilization and betray my people today.”

Malintzin was interacting with the intricate historical circumstances in which she lived, and must be understood within that context. And within that context, I would argue that she was a highly educated, highly intelligent member of the nobility who was able to become a political actor for both Spaniards and Aztec subsidiary peoples by virtue of that intelligence.

And that is pretty fierce.

*I don’t want to drag this post across the threshold from history into post-colonial theory, however, “North and South American Europeanized historical memory” or “North and South American colonized historical memory” could work here as well. What all of these turns of phrase mean, or imply, is that these women are the ones remembered outside of American indigenous communities for a specific set of reasons, all to do with the nature of the European conquest of the Americas.

Previous Fierce Historical Ladies posts may be found on this page, alongside a few other posts about groups of historical women.

ETA: This post contains problematic elements, and for that I apologize to Latina readers. For more detail, please see this post.

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In common parlance we often equate history with memory and assume that both provide avenues to accurate recreations of the past. The stories we tell about our own lives and about our collective existence in social groupings seem to be based on solid facts and irreducible truths. Somehow, we think, if we can discover enough facts we can construct an accurate depiction of the past. As recent scholarship in the field of social memory reveals, this is a naive and superficial way of thinking about memory. Memory, history, and evidence interact and conflict in complex and fascinating ways.

Archives Power: Memory, Accountability, and Social Justice by Randall C. Jimerson

posted 2 months ago and tagged as history archives memory historical memory quotes

A Short History of Plumbing, Toilets, and Sanitation

In 1856, General Alexander Cunningham was summoned to the Indus River Valley site where East Indian Railway Company workers had uncovered the ruins of an ancient city. The archaeologists who had rushed to the scene were stunned—as archaeologists digging under the auspices of the British Empire were wont to be—by the sophistication of the civilization they’d begun to uncover. One particular point of interest was the complex system of underground brick lined sewage drains, complete with running water and outdoor flush toilets.

To put it in different terms, these British archaeologists uncovered a civilization which had had an underground sewage system circa the third millennium BCE in the same year that the city at the seat of the British Empire—London—had begun to experience the sanitation problems which would lead to the “Great Stink” of 1858.

image

“Father Thames Introducing His Offspring (Diptheria, Scrofula, and Cholera) to the Fair City of London,” originally published in the July 3, 1858 edition of Punch Magazine. Image courtesy of the Museum of London.

In the 1850’s, the modern flush toilet had begun to replace the chamber pot in the daily waste disposal of many Londoners. This increased the volume of waste being poured into cesspits—which often overflowed into the streets, overwhelmed the medieval drainage system, and emptied into the Thames. The unusual heat levels of the summer of 1858 merged with the bacteria in the sewage filled waters of the Thames to produce a stench so overwhelming that the House of Commons nearly shut down.

Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro weren’t the only ancient cities to have a finer grasp on the intricacies of sanitation than the seat of the British Empire. The sewage of Rome and Istanbul is still carried partially through pipes which are over 1000 years old, and the first inverted siphon system (u-shaped pipes for those of us who are not Troy Barnes) was put into use in the palaces of Crete over 3000 years ago. Those pipes are still in working condition. The Ancient Minoan peoples had a stone sewage system periodically flushed with clean water, and flush toilets dating to around the mid-second millennium BCE have been found in the Minoan archaeological site of Akrotiri.

In the mid-12th century CE the Arab, or possibly Kurdish, engineer Al-Jazari invented a hand-washing device which made use of flush technology (he also invented the first water supply system to be driven by gears and hydropower, and a robot boy band among other things).

image

Illustration of his water-raising device from Al-Jazari’s work, The Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices. Image courtesy of the Topkapi Palace Museum.

In 1596, Sir John Harington developed a forerunner to the modern toilet and had it installed in his house. He also had one installed for his godmother, Queen Elizabeth I, but she refused to use it because the noise freaked her out.

By the 1850’s, the flush toilet had become a standard fixture in the homes of the bourgeoisie, leading to many much needed updates to old and overburdened sewage systems.

And because I’ve been picking on Britain a lot in this post, I will say that a 31st century BCE hydraulic waste removal system was discovered in one of Britain’s oldest known Neolithic villages: Skara Brae, Orkney. Way to remove that waste, Skara Brae.

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