Black Panther's Wakanda: a modern medievalist state

I see almost every Marvel movie in theaters within a week of its release out of habit, so it's no surprise that I caught Black Panther as well. But even all the hype about this particular release (which I was frankly a bit skeptical of, anyway) couldn't prepare me for the utter spectacle of the imagination that I had witnessed across the IMAX screen. There is, of course, so much to say about this movie as a story, as an expression of black culture, as and so on... but here, I'd prefer to write about an angle few others would be comfortable talking about. Today, in this relatively spoiler-free piece, I'll tell you what Black Panther teaches us about kingship.

The King is Dead--Long Live the King

Black Panther picks up where Captain America: Civil War left off. King T'Chaka is dead following a terrorist attack, and his son T'Challa automatically succeeds him as King of Wakanda, a fictional nation-state in sub-Saharan Africa which hides itself from the rest of the world for one reason. Wakanda is blessed by a mountain of vibranium, a near-indestructible metal with a host of other fantastical properties which make it the most prized resource in the Marvel universe. (Most notably, it's the stuff Captain America's shield is made of.) 

The armor of the King's Champion at Windsor Castle

Well... almost automatically! T'Challa is indeed his father's heir, but the Wakandans don't respect blood as the sole criterion for kingship. By tradition, on the day of the new king's coronation, the leaders of the other four tribes are asked if they wish to challenge the new king's right to rule. Most decline out of respect, but should a challenger appear, the new king is obliged to drink a serum that strips away his superhuman strength to allow him to fight in ritual combat as an ordinary man.

Those of you familiar with medieval English history might find this somewhat reminiscent of the tradition of the King's Champion. For centuries from the Norman Conquest onward, the festivities of each coronation ended with the King's Champion riding into Westminster Hall in full armor, throwing down his gauntlet and challenging anyone who would question the new king's right to a duel. Such a ritual was only natural in an age when a king's right to rule was de facto established by conquest or strength of arms, but as the Middle Ages gave way to the modern world, monarchies increasingly gave up on the idea of an interregnum (period of transition between the old king's death and the new king's coronation) in favor of automatic succession after the old king's death. The phrase "the king is dead, long live the king" is the summation of a doctrine which upholds the stability of birthright above all. The tradition of the King's Champion throwing down his gauntlet was last seen at the coronation banquet of King George IV in 1821. His successor, William IV, eliminated the coronation banquet in order to cut costs, and by the time of Victoria's coronation in 1838, the tradition was permanently discontinued.

Every king a warrior

By no means does ascending the throne mean T'Challa is now too important to continue fighting on the front lines. On the contrary, kingship consummates his identity as a warrior. By taking on the mantle of the Black Panther, T'Challa assumes the burden of a lifetime of personal combat. Wakandans are still very much medievalists in this regard: they will only respect and follow a king who shows martial strength and the bravery to lead his armies in battle. They're not scandalized by the idea of their monarch sneaking out at night in costume to play as superhero: they expect it!

The exercise of kingship throughout the Middle Ages was intensely personal. Without the bureaucracies and communications networks of later periods, the best way for a king to keep his kingdom was by constantly reminding his subjects of his existence. As such, medieval kings spent more time on the road than in their capital cities, making circuits around the country, holding court in different castles. This had the advantage of ensuring that ordinary people, who might never travel more than a few miles away from home their entire lives, might have had a chance to see the king in person. It also meant the king had a real knowledge of the lands in his domain.

But above all, the medieval king had to be a warrior. A crown prince still trained in arms and was dubbed a knight like his vassals. He didn't necessarily fight on the front lines, but he at least rode with the army on major campaigns to show his willingness to fight and die alongside his men. Richard III, sometimes reckoned the last medieval King of England, was fittingly also the last English king to die in battle, at Bosworth Field in 1485. King Henri II of France famously died from a wound suffered in a jousting accident in 1559. This was simply the cost of doing business. But a king who proved his prowess on the field could more than make up for his absence at home. King Edward I ("Longshanks" of Braveheart fame) was so renowned as a crusader that, when his father died, he was able to continue fighting in the Holy Land for a whole two years before coming back home to be crowned, with full assurance that England would wait patiently for him without any insurrections or rival princes making a bid for the throne.

Prince Harry, in keeping with a millennium of family military tradition, served two tours in Afghanistan.

Times have changed, but a certain remnant of this legacy lives today. Almost to a man, male members of the British Royal Family still make a point to serve as military officers for at least a few years. And many Americans, myself included, find it harder to take a presidential candidate seriously if he never served in the armed forces in any way.

Technology and tradition

One of the greatest follies of modern man is the notion that advancements in science and observation somehow discredit matters of the spirit--like atheists in 1957 who proudly proclaimed that Sputnik couldn't see God out in space. I always found it fascinating, though, that sci-fi authors so often create worlds where a mostly irreligious humanity, governed by the most utterly boring governments imaginable, travels through space alongside other sentient species who unabashedly worship gods and conquer in the name of empires.

The modern medievalist views technology as a tool of neutral moral value. They might give the ignorant more opportunity for idleness or destruction, it's true, but a modern medievalist doesn't eschew the printing press because it allowed more people to read and misinterpret the Bible, or refuse to use the Internet merely because his neighbor does nothing with it beyond sending his friends funny pictures of cats. 

An ideal "modern medievalist" state would see no contradiction between great material prosperity or scientific achievement enjoyed by a people who also adhere strongly to religious and cultural traditions. This is essentially what Wakanda represents: an Afro-futurist nation with medicine that can cure almost any physical condition and weaponry that can conquer the rest of the world... none of which blinds its people to the importance of maintaining its monarchy and calling on their ancestors for guidance.

Isolationism or imperialism?

This final heading isn't so much an assertion as an open question: is it more in keeping with a "medievalist" state to shun all foreign entanglements, embrace a hunger for expansion and colonization, or play at world's policeman?

The Wakanda which T'Challa inherits from his father has entered the 21st century posing as an obscure, third world country deep in the heart of Africa with nothing to offer the rest of the world. Indeed, without spoiling too much, much of the conflict in the film revolves around a growing sense of shame by Wakandans over having ignored the plight of their neighbors as they were carted off to slavery or divided by imperialist powers over the centuries... leaving them ripe for a change of regime.

My own observations of history suggest that a country which cuts itself off from all contact with the otuside world is certainly more likely to maintain its cultural and religious traditions--the textbook case being Japan, whose "middle ages" under the rule of the samurai lasted effectively until the Meiji era (the later 19th century). The price for cultural integrity was steep: the shogun deemed it necessary to crush Christian minorities with overwhelming brutality (as detailed in the movie Silence), and military technology stagnated until Commodore Perry's gunboats forced the country to open itself to trade.

Commodore Perry's ships arrive in Japan.

A somewhat more positive example might be Liechtenstein. A surviving relic of the Holy Roman Empire, Liechtenstein rests safely in the Alps with no need for a military, but it's not exactly an isolationist state. It entices foreign businesses to invest and set up shop there with low taxes to the point that it has more registered companies than citizens. Liechtenstein has a remarkably high rate of religious participation for a modern European state, and the Prince invites the entire population to his castle once a year to celebrate their national day with free beer.



I hope you enjoyed this excursion to the Marvel universe. Next time, I might write about a new video game set in medieval Bohmedia, circa 1403 which I've been playing, called Kingdom Come: Deliverance... which might also fittingly be called "Medieval Peasant Simulator". Until then!

The Problem of Criminalizing Vice, Part I: America's War on Beer

Dear readers, I announced over a month ago that, on the occasion of the 79th anniversary on the end of Prohibition, I would write an article about its causes legacy. My original intent was to present some research involving alcohol consumption in the Middle Ages, but let's face it: if you're reading these words, you likely already know that the average medieval peasant drank a lot more alcohol than we do because it was safer than water. There's not much more to say about that, so allow me to tell you something you might not have known.

You might not have known that Prohibition was by no means the product of "backwards" religious extremists. On the contrary, the Volstead Act was entirely a product of the modern world. Certainly, evangelical Protestants championing the temperance movement were at the forefront of the war against booze. But their efforts would have amounted to nothing were it not for their alliance with social activist groups of every stripe in early 20th century American politics: no other cause could bring Protestant social reformers marching shoulder to shoulder with Catholics and Jews, whites with blacks, Democrats with Republicans, capitalists with communists, and Klansmen with suffragettes. Prohibition was a great experiment which pitted "the concerned" of every religious and political persuasion against the ignorant working class man who couldn't be trusted not to blow his paycheck at the bar rather than see to his wife and children. 

So what does this have to do with the Middle Ages? My "thesis" for this series, if you could call it that, is that the United States' grand experiment of alcohol Prohibition is a classic example of why criminalizing vice, merely because it is vice, is both anti-medieval and dangerous. Why does that matter? In short, because medievalism quite understandably attracts those who are sick of this world's rampant corruption, immorality, and lack of soul. They turn to the medieval ideals of kingship and order; a world where a man could be roasted alive for preaching a bad idea, and a rapist could be force-fed his own genitals. Surely, if Charlemagne were alive today, he would ban pot, Internet porn, condoms, and Muslim women from veiling in public.... right? Because as we all know, in a proper medieval Christian government, the king is God's lieutenant on earth, whose first responsibility is ensuring the salvation of his subjects' souls. Therefore, allowing any of his subjects to sin with impunity is to participate in sin itself.

A modified Charlemagne anti-sin bot: now with condom-zapping eye laser technology.

The truth of the matter is that only a modern American could dream up such a system. The average medieval king ruled over a decentralized government and had little power to control his subjects' personal lives, even if he wanted to. It certainly was a Christian king's responsibility to defend the Church, but they rarely had the luxury to play the idealist. Later on, we'll explore how the medieval world not only tolerated brothels, but rationalized their existence as necessary to prevent greater evils. For now, though, let's begin with more familiar ground and work backwards. Our story begins here in America with the causes that led to the noble cause of breaking our nation's addiction to Satan's brew: alcohol.

An Overview of America's War on Beer

Prohibition wasn't the brainchild of a few early 20th century politicians out to score some votes from the "moral majority" crowd. Rather, it was the climax of a movement over a century in the making. Dr. Benjamin Rush, the famed Philadelphian physician and founding father, was an early and oft-cited influence upon the temperance activists. He published an Inquiry into the Effects of Ardent Spirits Upon the Human Body and Mind in 1785, which diagnosed alcohol as a substance prone to inducing both madness and acts of moral evil upon those who consume it. He lists some effects in his introduction:

"I shall begin by briefly describing their prompt or immediate effects, in a fit of drunkenness.

This odious disease (for by that name it should be called) appears with more or less of the following symptoms, and most commonly in the order in which I shall enumerate them.

1. Unusual garrulity.
2. Unusual silence.
3. Captiousness, and a disposition to quarrel.
4. Uncommon good humor, and an insipid simpering, or laugh.
5. Profane swearing and cursing.
6. A disclosure of their own or other people's secrets.
7. A rude disposition to tell those persons in company, whom they know, their faults.
8. Certain immodest actions. I am sorry to say this sign of the first stage of drunkenness sometimes appears in women, who, when sober are uniformly remarkable for chaste and decent manners.
9. A clipping of words. 

10. Fighting; a black eye, or a swelled nose, often mark this grade of drunkenness.
11 . Certain extravagant acts which indicate a temporary fit of madness. These are singing, hallooing, roaring, imitating the noises of brute animals, jumping, tearing off clothes, dancing naked, breaking glasses and china, and dashing other articles of household furniture upon the ground or floor."

We can forgive Dr. Rush for the errors of 18th century medicine, but the damage was done: the so-called Age of Reason, which (like our own generation) so highly valued any study christened in the name of science or medical progress, rubber-stamped its seal of approval on Dr. Rush's Inquiry. Four years later, a temperance organization of 200 Connecticut farmers came into existence. Virginia saw theirs in 1800, and New York's in 1808. 

A teetotaler's certificate: because nothing in the Victorian era was official until you made a pledge on paper.

These early associations were motivated by the scientific community's diagnosis of alcohol as a poison, but it took a great awakening to supercharge the temperance movement into a formidable political force. The Second Great Awakening swept the country with a spirit of religious revival and moral reform, for which the temperance societies became a perfect vehicle to achieve their ends. Previously, temperance societies typically presented members with a pledge card holding two options: moderation in drink, or total abstinence. A member who signed on for T.A. (total abstinence) became known as a tee-totaler. But after the Great Awakening, moderation was increasingly viewed as a weak half-measure; and since Americans loathe half-measures, total abstinence became the only acceptable goal.

 

Thomas Welch made a fortune by changing the meaning of the Bible

See, in order for society as a whole to purge alcohol, the issue had to be freed from being the pet project of some health nuts (the equivalent of today's vegans or organic food advocates). It needed to be a matter of salvation or damnation. For the followers of these revival preachers, alcohol was not just poison: it was the devil's brew. Of course, reasons had to be manufactured to explain why Christ would turn water into wine for a party, or use wine to institute the Lord's Supper. It was convenient that around this time, Thomas Welch, a Methodist minister and dentist, found a way to mass-produce an unfermented, and therefore non-alcoholic "fruit of the vine": what we call grape juice. This feat of scientific engineering bizarrely enabled a very large part of Protestant America to substitute grape juice for wine in their services. Within a generation, their Biblical scholars claimed it was how Jesus did the Last Supper and the wedding at Cana all along.

The Civil War, as wars so often do, threw a wrench into the cogs of the temperance machine, but after the dust had settled, the prohibitionists returned with a vengeance. Kansas has the dubious distinction of being the first state in the Union to completely outlaw alcohol in its constitution (1881). Its chief enforcer: Carrie Nation, the mother-in-law from hell who barged into saloons and smashed their stock with her signature hatchet. Year by year, other states followed suit. North Dakota even entered the Union as a dry state. By the time Congress had passed the 18th Amendment, over half of all the states had already enacted statewide prohibition.

At the turn of the 20th century, both "science" and "religion" were firmly geared toward the prohibition of alcohol in America. It needed one final catalyst: social reform. The Enlightenment and the Great Awakening had already played their parts, but it was ultimately the Progressive Era that made prohibition a national mandate. The years between 1890 and 1930, emboldened by America's victory against Spain and the beginnings of empire, yearned for progress in every sector. It meant trustbusting Standard Oil and the robber barons of the old years. It meant destroying the old bosses and political machines of the past like Tammany Hall. It meant giving women the vote, and teaching eugenics to keep poor people from having too many children. And yes, it meant reforming the working man by destroying the alcohol industry. The working man had many enemies. The capitalist could afford to ban alcohol to keep his workers productive, while stockpiling alcohol before the beginning of enforcement for his own use. The communist could oppose alcohol because it was seen as a means for the capitalists to keep the proletariat down. The suffragette sought to destroy the saloon so that her husband would come home sooner with more money in his pocket. Her ally, the Klansman, targeted the saloon because it was a gathering place for Italians and Catholics. And yet, even many priests and bishops of the Catholic hierarchy were active members of the temperance movement.

America's entry into World War I provided the perfect excuse. In 1917, Congress passed the Food and Fuel Control Act, which banned the production of distilled spirits to conserve wheat for the war effort. The Conscription Act also forbade the sale of alcohol on or near military bases. Wartime necessity had conditioned the few last wet states and counties in the nation to total abstinence. Congress used the war to pass an amendment to ban the sale or manufacture of alcohol nationwide, pending its ratification by the states. By the time the needed majority from the state legislatures had come, the war was already over. On October 28, 1919, the Volstead Act was passed, providing the means to enforce Prohibition.

Stay tuned for the next issue, where we examine Prohibition's effects: organized crime, contempt for the law, and public enemies abound!