Bombastically Self-Assured

Walter Goffart, Barbarian Tides: The Migration Age and the Later Roman Empire. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006.

Barbarian Tides, by University of Toronto professor Walter Goffart, takes a look at the themes surrounding the immigration and settlement of barbarians in late ancient Rome. Focusing in on the invasion years in the fourth to seventh centuries, and reaching a little to either side, this book is more an anthology than a proper text, its chapters standing alone with regard to subject matter, yet supporting one another’s materials. Goffart makes several claims in his book, primarily arguing that the Germans were not Germanic at all, that the Migration Age is not especially migratory, and that the so-called “invasions” were in fact a tale of accommodation and transferal of authority. While Goffart’s take on ethnicity rings true, his chapters dealing with migration and accommodation show a progressive deterioration of his argument due to a too narrow examination of the evidence.

The strong element in Goffart’s book is his attack on “ethnicity” and “ethnogenisis” that have no place in the study of Rome. Goffart questions the notion of a “Germany” alongside Rome, calling to attention the fractured tribal atmosphere of the late antique north. After setting up the Roman political “family” that begins in the third century and includes sundry barbarians, he suggests looking at the barbarians through their own family links and alliances. In an attempt to do the barbarians justice, Goffart launches into a case-by-case assessment of the lesser-known tribes, detailing the existing scholarship on the misunderstood Gepids, the ancient Sciri, the martial Herules, the transitory Spanish Sueves, the coastal Frisians, the horse-riding Thuringians, and the patchwork Bavarians – though where possible he does apply an ethnic connection to the tribe; in the instance of the Sciri, he offers evidence relating them to the Celts. An astute point is made with regard to the sheer variety of barbarian tribes, but Goffart turns nit-picky when it comes to grouping them by language, seeking to undo the work of comparative philology by brusquely remarking on the divisive nature of the warlike northerners. Thus, perhaps, the barbarians were not one ethnic group solely because they fought one another? This curious presumption aside, the scattered ethnicity of the barbarians is argued well, but it stands alone as Goffart’s sole strength.

A recurring theme throughout Barbarian Tides is over-generalization and application of isolated incidents to a larger scheme. Where he was going strong on ethnicity, Goffart loses some steam over the migration issue, mostly because it is so generalized. His case study for barbarian migration is the crossing of the Rhine in the early 400s. After building up the characters of the Alans and Vandals, Goffart launches then across the river to battle it out with the local Romans, eventually charging south to Spain, where they receive word from Rome that they might stay there, if they leave the locals alone. This did not last, as in 411 the Roman government drove the Vandals and Alans further south into North Africa. Though a rather detailed analysis of a handful of migratory marauders, it the only one of its kind, the other major incursions reserved for honorable mention and pertinent placement to augment other arguments. The strength of the invasion analysis really comes at the end, where the Migration Age is shown to be no more migratory than any age before it.

What is perhaps the most controversial element of Barbarian Tides is also the most problematic: the theory of Roman accommodation, wherein it is argued that the Romans did not lose to the barbarians, but allowed them to pass over the limes, establish themselves in suitable regions, and eventually take up proprietorship of their new home. Problematically, Barbarian Tides forgoes a great deal of history to set the key arguments in context. Goffart assumes that his readers are familiar with the timeframe in which he is working, thus allowing him to cut out the space-hogging chronology of the fall of Rome – this also allows him to ignore the greater events while lining out his own idyllic model for accommodation within the bounds of the collapsing West. For a start, Goffart’s case is limited to the Burgundians in Gaul and the Goths in Italy, yet he uses these isolated examples to flesh out a whole world of supposedly peaceful change, the bloody “period of disorder” in the early 400s notwithstanding. Goffart goes into terrific detail about the Burgunian laws and taxation, but besides these surviving codes the author is only aware of one historical source – that of Cassiodorus – that mentions grants to barbarians. This problem raises the specter of historical context against Goffart’s argument. While frolicking about in the technicalities of the law codes, Goffart seems to forget that the Burgundians were hardly a viable threat to the Romans. After a crushing defeat in 436, the settlement of the Burgundians in Gaul seven years later is lauded as a “comeback” wherein the Burgundians won out a legal land-grab. But Goffart does not explore their relationship with the Roman general Aetius, famous for leading the coalition of Romano-barbarian forces in defeating Attila at the Catalaunian fields. Having defeated the Burgundians, would it not make sense to salvage what was left of the tribe and plant it so as to supply a fighting force in the event of, say, a Hunnic invasion? Such an accommodation might indeed be legal, but hardly represents the settlement of other tribes, such as the Vandals and Alans above.

Italy, on the other hand, appears in a more hopeful light with the toppling of the old Roman Empire and the rise of a stable Gothic state in 476. But that date alone renders the rest of the chapter moot: it may be that the institutions of Rome continued on under Odoacer and Theoderic after him, but these are cases of barbarian rule of Rome, hardly accommodation of immigrants by any stretch of the imagination. Once again Goffart launches into a meticulous examination of taxes and land grants, but the whole world is set aside. Little mention is made of Odoacer’s overthrow of Romulus Augustulus and nothing is said about the Eastern emperor sending Theoderic to establish himself in a Rome that the Romans could no longer feasibly control. If that is accommodation, then it is such in only the strictest sense. What we have are two barbarian take-overs, the latter simply enjoying the imperial blessing. But Goffart seems unaware of this, happily humming along his merry way as Romans and barbarians go skipping hand-in-hand through fields of Italian flowers.

This book also suffers from several factors at the ground level. From the very beginning Goffart ignores archeology (perhaps annoyed by philologist Gustaf Kossinna, whose intricate web of archeology, linguistics, and other sciences deserves, in Goffart’s mind, to be “pilloried” ), officially protesting that it is outside his training and that it is too much subject to interpretation. That is ironic, since interpretation is what Barbarian Tides is about. The weakness of going without archeology crops up in the form of generalities that plague the book. Point blank statements such as, “The peoples to the north and east of the Roman frontier were no more ‘wandering’ than the Celts or Greeks or Thracians” are well said, but the lack of evidence does not help the reader to agree. But if generalizations were not enough, Goffart is also prone to making strange observations and pronouncements. He refers to Vandals living in their place on the Roman border from the second to the fifth century, loudly declaring, “they were totally unaware of having lived anywhere else.” No examples of Vandal traditions or legends are presented to back up this claim. He even remarks that barbarians were long past their wandering days and “were definitely not ‘going’ anywhere.” One wonders whether their Roman contemporaries were of the same opinion.

Goffart’s unabashed arrogance also does nothing to help his cause. When addressing a foreign historian’s reasoning about the fall of Rome to the barbarians, Goffart provides his own translation of the work, assuring the reader that, “only this version does justice to his case.” In other words, only Goffart is capable of understanding his fellow historians. By contrast other historians are largely incapable of understanding Goffart’s elevated ideas, as he calls criticisms of his previous book “sterile.” Similarly, a certain theory of accommodation with which Goffart disagrees is declared “untenable” based upon his own assertions in said book.

Goffart has done some good work and his claims are worthy of consideration. But some of his notions within the claims are curious at best and reek of bombastic self-assurance and pretentious pre-conception at worst. Worst of all is the lack of setting, the isolation of data that almost screams agenda. Goffart’s subjects live in a vacuum as they “march quietly into the Middle Ages.” After all his work, a little more detail could yet aid Goffart’s Barbarian Tides.