(originally posted on my blog 6/4/20)
Rating: * *
Title: Old Thiess, a Livonian Werewolf: A Classic Case in Comparative Perspective
Author: Carlo Ginzburg and Bruce Lincoln
Genre: History/Religion (non-fiction)
Setting: N/A
Subject/Theme(s): An examination of the 1691 trial of a Latvian peasant called “Old Thiess” who proclaimed before the court that he was a werewolf engaged in the defense of humankind against the forces of witchcraft.
Publisher: University of Chicago Press
Year: 2020
Pages: 289 (including end materials)
ISBN-13: 978-0-226-67441-4
ISBN-10: 0-226-67441-X
EVALUATION
Style:
Academic, but not overly dense. The book is written in an accessible academic style which should not deter the layman. Both authors are excellent communicators and write with a clear command of their subject while employing a minimum of jargon or, my personal vexation, untranslated text.
Execution:
Hit and miss. The full English translation of the text of the 1691 trial of Old Thiess makes the book worthwhile reading. Beyond this, the two scholars engage in a debate over the course of the book (mainly, Lincoln attempts to pick apart Ginzburg’s arguments while promoting his own) with mixed and ultimately unsatisfying results. The final chapter of the book is a transcript of lengthy debate between the two which takes some strange turns away from the subject at hand.
Historical Authenticity:
As non-fiction, this book details actual events in which a Livonian peasant proclaimed himself before a court of law to be a living werewolf, explaining not only how he was initiated into this role, but what his activities as a member of a werewolf fellowship entailed, what their purposes were, and what powers he—and other members of the community—believed he possessed because of this werewolf nature. These powers and actions seemed to include transforming into a wolf, stealing and consuming livestock, healing the sick, and battling “sorcerers and witches” in order to win from their possession grain and fertility for the land. His fellow werewolves he called “hounds of God,” denying any connection with sorcery or satan, claiming “he had done God much service thereby in fulfillment of His will that they recover the prosperity from the devil, which the sorcerers had carried to him, and thereby did good for the whole land.” (Old Thiess, a Livonian Werewolf, pg 27)
Thesis:
Ginzburg’s main argument is that the evil-dispelling, fertility-promoting role assumed by Old Thiess and his fellow werewolves is a survival from an older, pre-christian layer of religion within peasant communities across Europe. As such, he sees it as directly comparable to “shamanistic” roles fulfilled by similar figures in other cultures, such as the Italian benandanti and the Hungarian taltos. While his argument suffers slightly from a misuse of the strict definition of shamanism, his point is well taken in suggesting that the Livonian werewolves acted in a strictly spiritual, religious function similar to the others. He carries this analogy a bit too far with suggestions that werewolves were likely born in a caul like the benandanti and taltos, and in providing interesting, but somewhat tangential, expositions on Freud and his wolf-man, etc. His shamanic explanation is meant as an alternative to the many scholars who have identified mythical, literary, and historical wolf-men with physical warriors, war bands, berserkers, and the like. Ginzburg’s werewolf is a spiritual werewolf.
Unlike Ginzburg, Lincoln’s argument essentially boils down to suggesting that, despite Thiess’s own testimony to the contrary, there is little or no mystical or spiritual aspect informing the actions of the werewolf fellowship, but that they are essentially guerrilla warriors resisting colonization. As locally born peasants under the yoke of foreign German elites, he envisions the “witches and sorcerers” in Thiess’s story to be the wealthy landed aristocracy, and the werewolves to be oppressed freedom-fighters who steal grain from them out of purely economic need, protest, or both. While this is an interesting perspective to explore, it feels rather modern to impose on the story of a Livonian peasant. Modern people are well-prepared to think of their lives in terms of granular ethnic identity, economic inequality, and perpetual class struggle, but the world prior to this was a far less self-conscious place with starkly different concerns, motivations, and compensations, and I’m not convinced Old Thiess spoke in revolutionary metaphors before a panel of German judges in 1691 to hide his contempt for their allegedly corrupt class system. Nevertheless, Lincoln’s werewolf is a Marxist werewolf.
Both authors seem to have taken the original hypothesis: that werewolf confraternities were sacred, ecstatic warrior bands, inspired by a patron wolf spirit or deity and/or embodying dead ancestors, whose confiscation of livestock and other goods helped directly or indirectly promote the fertility of the land—and split the difference between them.
Highlights:
As referenced above, the translation of the trial transcript is fascinating.
There is a wonderful translation of “Comparison of Old Thiess to Germanic Cult Groups, Folklore, and Persephone Myths,” by Otto Hoefler. In the pages that follow, the authors engage in several arguments attempting to discredit Hoefler’s work, with which I am otherwise unfamiliar, on the basis that he had some association with unsavory politics (i.e. he was allegedly a fascist sympathizer, though, again, I am taking their word on this) therefore, according the universal moral law of Bad Person=Bad Ideas, everything he ever said or wrote is tainted and must be automatically discredited, case closed. (Does Good Person=Good Ideas? Good Ideas=Good Person? Bad Ideas=Bad Person? I’m unclear how this formula is supposed to work in the real world, but we seem married to it for the moment regardless.) However, Hoefler’s personal political views aside, there seems to be nothing obviously controversial in this otherwise interesting text. Ginzburg, to his credit, does a better job of parsing the specific merits and flaws of Hoefler’s work. Lincoln simply dismisses all of his work out of hand because he finds the man himself personally distasteful (I know nothing else about him but what I’ve read in this book, but I also believe one’s personal views, words, deeds, etc.—however good or bad—should not alter the evaluation or appreciation of one’s work.) Hoefler’s personal associations—like those of so many academics, authors, and artists—are disappointing, but they are irrelevant to the validity of his conclusions. The authors’ main beef with Hoefler seems to be that he argues these confraternities were primarily martial in character and, furthermore, such bands had a leading role in state formation. After finishing this book, digesting it, and contemplating it for some time, weeks later I’m still trying to wrap my head around why this thesis is so painfully controversial that half the book was spent denouncing it. Is it the concept of states themselves, or their possible birth in martial brotherhoods that so distresses the Marxist mind? Rather than disproving this or arguing an alternative hypothesis about the very real role of warrior fraternities in ancient societies, Lincoln literally calls this idea “monstrous” (pg 141) seeming to find the concept more morally offensive than intellectually unsound. He then immediately states without irony: “One of the great dangers when one tries to move from morphology to history is the tendency, even in the most scrupulous and learned scholars, to fill the gaps in our knowledge by imagining an originary state that not only unites the comparanda but also reflects the scholar’s deepest fears, desires, and/or ideals.” (Pg 141) Um, something about pots and kettles, blah, blah…
There is also a section on Ossetian rituals (Chapter Three, section IX, pg 80) which contains new information for me, that I have posted about here.
Recommendation:
I am normally a great admirer of Lincoln’s work, particularly his earlier writings. He can be an insightful, thought-provoking scholar, and an expressive, vivid writer. In more recent years, his books have taken on a more dogmatic tone that I find less scientifically credible and more ideologically informed. The newer introductions to his earlier works contain bizarre apologies for his previous scholarship, essentially reversing his opinion on his original work and decrying his insufficient—for lack of a better word—wokeness. While I do not envy the academic laboring in today’s censorious climate, especially one so distinguished in comparative studies, such contrition seems uncalled for and even gratuitous. If anyone was in a position to stand on the strength and merits of his work, it should have been Lincoln. Perhaps not—or perhaps this represents a sincere conversion. If so, it is a disappointment to those of us who have relied upon his past insights to help elucidate the breadth of fragmentary material at hand. Where before I had previously found perceptive, original thought, sound reasoning, and what seemed a genuine attempt at objectivity, now I am left with the bitter aftertaste of force-fed morality and political grandstanding. I also found him to be condescending toward his colleague Ginzburg in their back-and-forth throughout the book. I understand the format of the book was a scholarly debate, but one of the authors managed to keep the conversation respectful, and one came off as self-righteous and arrogant.
I was unaware of Ginzburg’s work before reading this and found his perspectives unique, his approach fair, and his writing style readable. While I would not say I was completely persuaded by all of his arguments, they were interesting to consider and brought a worthwhile perspective and potentially relevant comparisons to the conversation. I will certainly read more of his works in the future.
Overall, I was disappointed in this book after having it on pre-order for months and waiting eagerly to read it. Perhaps my expectations were too high. But, with such a fascinating subject and two such creative and accomplished scholars working together on it, this book had so much potential. Instead, it ended up light on details and heavy on dogma.
However, with these caveats, it is worth the read, even if just for the translations.