342 Book Reviews

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Éric RebillardChristians and Their Many Identities in Late Antiquity. North Africa, 200-450 ce, Cornell University Press, Ithaca and London 2012; 134 pp.; isbn 978.0.801451423; us$ 49.95.

Although the book of Éric Rebillard (R.) is very concise, it presents the intrigu-ing thesis that in Antiquity socio-religious groups were not as neatly divided along the lines of clearly recognizable markers of belief, ritual and social prac-tice as is often assumed. Part of R.’s arguments have already been presented as a contribution to Blackwell’s Companion to Augustine.1 In the work under review, historical periods in North Africa prior to Augustine are discussed as well.

R.’s theoretical framework depends on modern sociological insights, most notably those of Rogers Brubaker and Bernard Lahire. They are used to discredit the apparent tendency among scholars (including those of early Christianity) to regard ‘sharply differentiated, internally homogeneous’ social groups as the prime constituents of social action. Brubaker suggests that the formation of social groups based on ethnicity is a contingent event that lasts only for a lim-ited time. Ethnicity only becomes a relevant social category in specific con-texts and is not that important in everyday life. Lahire has argued that people have something which may be called ‘an internal plurality’, i.e. individuals hav-ing alternative identities which are interdependent.

R. puts forward that the combination of these insights is relevant to our understanding of early Christian identity. He no longer accepts the view that the behaviour of ancient Christians was predominantly determined by their religious identity. Early Christians, too, displayed an internal plurality, because their Christian identity was one out of several and only important in a num-ber of specific social contexts. In order to corroborate his thesis, R. analyses Christian identity and its markers in three different historical contexts, namely Carthage at the end of the second century; the persecutions up to Diocletian (303); and North Africa during the Theodosian age.

In his first chapter, R. discusses late second century Carthage, leaning heav-ily on the writings of Tertullian. He concludes that in this particular histori-cal period there were few markers that would positively identify someone as a Christian. Acts such as feeding the martyrs in prison, kissing a fellow Christian, making the sign of the cross and refusing to offer to the emperors might have given some indication. Yet, not every Christian displayed these markers and

1 Éric Rebillard, ‘Religious sociology’ in: Mark Vessey (ed.), A Companion to Augustine, Malden and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell 2011, 40-53.

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public offerings to the emperor were not always required. R. concludes that, at the end of the second century, there was no separate Christian world in Carthage.

Although the next chapter discusses several outbursts of persecution, its cen-tral argument concentrates on the Decian persecution and the way Christians reacted to it. With particular reference to Cyprian’s writings, R. argues that the majority of the Christians complied while only a minority confessed their faith. He concludes that, for their identity, most Christians did not deem the issue of sacrificing to the emperor to be of pivotal importance. Moreover, they did not address the authorities as a single socio-religious group.

Chapter three is mainly based upon the writings of Augustine. In the Theodosian age, so R. argues, there also are few external markers for a Christian identity and even regular Church attendance seems to have been minimal. Augustine relates that his church was only filled on feast days, but in life-cycle rituals the church played no significant role. Even at the end of the fourth cen-tury there seems to have been no separate Christian world in North Africa. On the contrary, Christians attended the pagan games or religious rituals when required by their patron. Although these practices were condemned by the bishops, Christian laymen seem to have developed some sort of civil identity which allowed them to take part in these social activities. In secular contexts, this identity superseded their Christian one.

R. concludes that during the period of 200 to 450 ce, Christians definitely evidenced multiple social identities. In everyday life, their Christian identity was not their central identity. R. therefore argues that some old paradigms should be abandoned. For one thing, the use of the category of so-called ‘semi-Christians’—Christians who did not fully embrace Christianity—should be criticized while based on the idea that, for ‘true’ Christians, their religious identity was central in all social contexts. The ‘semi-Christians’ may simply have displayed different social identities in different social contexts. Even the dichotomy between pagans and Christians should be re-evaluated, because a large group of people displayed a religious plurality which makes their clas-sification impossible. The same re-evaluation goes for the dichotomy between ‘religious’ and ‘secular’ contexts.

Intriguing as these conclusions may be, a number of critical remarks are in order. First of all, the use of modern theories to analyse ancient history may provide helpful insights, but is also a hazardous undertaking. The histo-ricity of specific contexts complicates a comparison between phenomena in different times and spaces. Brubaker specifically studied ethnic identity in a Transylvanian-Romanian town between 1995 and 2001. R. accepts his conclu-sions without carefully analysing the differences between a religious identity

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on the one hand and an ethnic- social one on the other. Moreover, he does not explicitly take into consideration the different conditions in which these iden-tities played a role in the interaction between social groups. One may doubt whether Late-Antique North Africa and late twentieth century Romania are really comparable.

Although Lahire’s conclusion may indeed be an ‘eye-opener’ for the study of ancient social identities, it is in fact not revolutionary. Similar insights have been put forward by the so-called social identity theory (sit), which was par-ticularly formulated by the sociologists Tajfel and Turner in the 1970’s and later developed by several others. The sit accepts that individuals have multiple social identities (‘internal plurality’), but argues that sometimes these identi-ties are a powerful force in group behaviour: a social in-group seeks positive distinctiveness in direct competition with social out-groups. Or, to put it dif-ferently: in specific contexts a social group will likely try to distinguish itself from other, rival social groups. In that situation, the in-group will define an archetypical identity for its members, while at the same time formulating a stereotype of the identity of the members of the rival out-group. R. does not seem to have incorporated these insights into his analysis. This deficiency in itself does not necessarily render his thesis invalid, but incorporation of sit’s insights would have supplied other relevant questions.

For example, R. could have asked which groups Catholic Christians would have perceived as rival groups. In his book he deliberately bypasses two impor-tant rival Christian groups active in North Africa during the fourth century, sc. the Donatists and the Manichaeans. Although R. is correct in pointing out that we do not have much information on how Donatist lay people constructed their Christian identity, the social identity presented by their clergy may have helped to outline the contexts in which a Catholic Christian identity became relevant. It was a relevant issue indeed, for North Africa in the age of Augustine did witness sectarian violence between Christian socio-religious groups.2 Unfortunately, R. leaves out these and other occurrences of religious violence altogether.

R. argues that, for the historian, Manichaeism remains mainly a body of doctrines, while the available sources provide no evidence about individuals who recognized themselves as members of this church. Determining who is to be considered a Manichaean is, as other scholars have noted on several occasions, indeed difficult, because they did not seem to have used the term ‘Manichaean’ to describe themselves but, instead, presented themselves sim-

2 See e.g. the recent analysis by Brent D. Shaw, Sacred Violence. African Christians and Sectarian Hatred in the Age of Augustine, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2011.

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ply as Christians. However, neglecting the Manichaeans altogether is too easy a way out.

When one takes the Manichaeans into consideration, the acceptance of a religious pluralism (as R. rightly does) may complicate our understanding of the subject even further. It might lead us to conclude that it is not only the distinc-tion between pagans and Christians that is less absolute, but also the distinc-tion between Catholics and Manichaeans. Richard Lim has already argued that the Catholic subdeacon Victorinus, who was accused of being a Manichaean, was in fact only an open-minded orthodox Nicene Christian, whose curiosity led him to study gnostic-Christian thoughts.3 Without referring to the sit, Nils Arne Pedersen recently argued that Manichaean self-designation should be understood in different contexts. The nomen Manichaeorum might well have been used publically as a positive autonym in those polemic contexts when Manichaeans needed to distinguish themselves as Manichaean Christians from Catholic Christians. Among co-religionists, however, they referred to themselves mainly as ‘Christians’.4 Perhaps categorising Manichaeans apart from Christians is more difficult than R. supposes.

At the same time, Augustine does often refer to Manichaean behaviour. In his polemical works and sermons he even ridicules certain Manichaean moral acts, such as worshipping the moon and the sun and giving alms only to the Elect. Occasionally his attacks become more personal. A case in point is, for example, the self-proclaimed poverty of the Manichaean bishop Faustus of Milevis. Faustus presented his poverty—a moral obligation for the Manichaean Elect—as proof of the truth of his Christian beliefs. Augustine attacks the bishop by pointing out that his lifestyle is less sober than he tries to make his audience believe. Indeed, the bishop did not carry any money in

3 Richard Lim, ‘The Nomen Manichaeorum and Its Uses in Antiquity’ in: Eduard Iricinschi & Holger M. Zellentin (eds.), Heresy and Identity in Late Antiquity, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2008, 143-167.

4 Referring to Faustus’ Capitula, Pedersen argues that this Manichaean bishop believed he belonged to ‘this sharply outlined group in which members felt solidarity with each other and considered themselves to be a unity, and, furthermore felt a difference in relation to the outside world. (p. 187)’ One might ask whether the constant reference to ‘we’ and ‘you’ in the Capitula should not be understood against the backdrop of the polemic nature of the work. Faustus consciously aimed at clearly distinguishing his socio-religious in-group from the Catholic out-group. It is uncertain to what extent Manichaean layman would have accepted this dichotomy in other social contexts. Nils Arne Pedersen, ‘Manichaean Self-Designation in the Western Tradition’ in: J. van Oort (ed.), Augustine and Manichaean Christianity. Selected Papers from the First South African Conference on Augustine of Hippo, University of Pretoria, 24-26 April 2012, Leiden and Boston: Brill 2013, 177-196.

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his wallet, but according to Augustine this was because he carried it in chests and bags. Furthermore, Faustus did not sleep on simple mats, as the rigorous Manichaean sub-group of the so-called Mattarians did, but chose to sleep in a (very) comfortable bed (c. Faust. 5.5).

Although the evidence is not extensive, the recent excavations at ancient Kellis have provided personal Manichaean documents which give us a clue of how individual Manichaeans expressed their faith and thus strengthened their socio-religious identity. Although this material has not been excavated in North Africa, a combined analysis of Roman Egyptian and Roman African sources on Manichaeism may provide a more nuanced picture.

Christian identity was still developing in North Africa in the latter part of the fourth century. Religious leaders of the Donatists, the Manichaeans and the Nicene-Christian Catholics were debating with each other. These debates were not only related to what the right Christian teaching should be, but also involved the right Christian praxis. It was a struggle between different socio-religious identities. Yet, the strife between the clergy of those Christian cur-rents should not be necessarily understood as being the same as the combat of lay people in their everyday life. Only in certain contexts did these identities become important and only in some essential. Sectarian strife and religious debates are examples of such contexts, moments at which a person’s life and reputation was at stake. In order to fully understand the social identities of the different Christian currents, these contexts and the way in which Christians presented themselves within them, should be thoroughly analysed as well.

R. justifiably discusses the religious identity of early Christians in North Africa and convincingly argues that someone’s Christian identity often was not the primary motive behind his actions. Even during the Theodosian age, a separate Christian world had not arisen in that Roman province. Yet, R.’s work does not provide an adequate insight into Christian identity in late Antiquity. Future research should concentrate on the articulation of Christian identities in those contexts in which socio-religious identities collided.

Gijs Martijn van GaansDomein 24, 5046PZ Tilburg,The Netherlands

gijsmartijnvangaans@gmail.com