A Convenient Hatred: The History of Antisemitism (32 page)

A contemporary drawing of Father Thomas and his servant.

How did a disappearance become a possible murder and then a “ritual murder”? Why were people who lived thousands of miles from Damascus so interested in the story? How do Jews or any other people combat a lie about “terrifying and inconceivable” crimes—particularly when such a lie erupts at a time when most people like to think of themselves as modern, even “enlightened”?

Many people in the 1800s believed that they had cast off the prejudices of earlier times. Indeed, some devoted their lives to undoing the great injustices of earlier, less enlightened eras. One western European nation after another granted Jews their rights as citizens. In 1861, Russia freed its serfs; four years later, the United States abolished slavery; and in 1876, reluctantly and under great pressure, the Ottoman Empire granted non-Muslims civic equality (which was, however, later revoked).

And yet despite such progress, discrimination and persecution persisted throughout the 1800s. Instead of turning to reason and science to challenge old myths and misinformation, many people used reason and science to justify their prejudices. In the early 1800s, Frederick Douglass, an African American who fought slavery, explained:

It is the province of prejudice to blind; and scientific writers, not less than others, write to please, as well as to instruct, and even unconsciously… sometimes sacrifice what is true to what is popular. Fashion is not confined to dress; but extends to philosophy as well—and it is fashionable now in our land to exaggerate the differences between the [African American] and the European.
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It was also fashionable to exaggerate differences between the Jew and the European. When the disappearance of Father Thomas and his servant led to charges of ritual murder against prominent Jews in Damascus, a number of educated people in Europe and the Middle East readily believed the accusation—not because they saw Jews as a threat to Christianity or Islam but because they saw Jews as a separate and dangerous “race.” Their responses reveal much about the way individuals and groups adapt the myths and stereotypes of earlier times to current events. The Damascus affair also reveals the impact of nationalism and racism on antisemitism.

In 1840, about 100,000 people lived in Damascus, the capital of Syria. To Europeans, its crowded markets and narrow streets gave it an air of
remoteness and mystery. To people in the Middle East and North Africa, it was a center of trade where camel caravans stopped on their way to Baghdad in the east or Beirut to the north. Although Damascus was mainly a Muslim city, it was also home to about 12,000 Christians of various denominations and about 5,000 Jews. Each group lived in its own quarter, but people of all faiths mingled in the markets, and some knew one another socially as well. Both Christians and Jews had a long history in the city, dating back more than 18 centuries.

In 1840, the Ottoman Empire was not as powerful as it had been in earlier times; Syria, for example, was under Egyptian rule, even though it was officially part of the Ottoman Empire. In 1831, Muhammad Ali, the viceroy of Egypt, had driven the Ottomans out of Syria and made his adopted son, Sherif Pasha, governor-general. But that victory did not end the dispute over the territory.

That dispute between Egypt and the Ottoman Empire attracted attention in several European nations whose leaders were eager to expand their economic and political influence in the region. Throughout the 1800s, these nations competed for colonies, markets, and influence. France, which had occupied Algeria since 1830, hoped to gain additional territory in North Africa and the Middle East; its leaders supported Egypt and Muhammad Ali. Therefore Austria and Britain backed the Ottoman sultan as a way of preventing French expansion.

To make things more confusing, a few people in Syria in 1840 were not under the protection of the Ottomans or the Egyptians. Among them was Father Thomas. Even though he had lived in Damascus for more than 30 years, he and other Catholic missionaries in the region were under French protection. As European influence in the Middle East increased, France and other European nations had placed a number of people in Syria under their protection. The sultan had recognized their right to do so in various treaties; so had Muhammad Ali. Like Father Thomas, most of these people had been born in Europe but now lived in the region; a few had been born in Syria but had business dealings with various European nations.

Soon after Father Thomas disappeared, the monks notified the Count de Ratti-Menton, the French consul in Syria. Three weeks later, RattiMenton sent a report to his superiors that emphasized the victim’s connections to France:

An appalling drama has just stained the city of Damascus in blood. The fact that the principal victim had direct ties to the [French]
consulate; that he occupied a position that was both public and consecrated; that those who played the primary role in this scene of murder enjoy a [high] social position; and above all, that their actions were inspired by an anti-human idea, all conjoin to justify the length and detail of what I am about to report
.

On the afternoon of the 5th of this month, Father Thomas, a… missionary and chaplain of the French Capuchin monastery at Damascus, left in the direction of the Jewish quarter in order to put up a notice on the door of one of the synagogues about an auction for the benefit of a poor European family. He was due on the following day, the 6th, to have dinner with the other members of the religious orders at Dr. Massari’s where he failed to appear. His absence was rendered the more unusual by the fact that he was not at the monastery at the usual time for the celebration of the mass and also by the simultaneous disappearance of his only domestic servant. However, this could initially be explained by the supposition that Father Thomas had gone to one of the neighboring villages in order to vaccinate some of the children there
.

Informed of what had happened, I went to the monastery where the street was full of Christians from all the different sects who were shouting that Father Thomas had been slain by the Jews.
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On Friday, February 7, Ratti-Menton reported the disappearance to the Egyptian governor-general, Sherif Pasha, and asked his permission to lead police in a search of the Jewish quarter, which was believed to be the last place the two men had been seen. As a result of that search, RattiMenton brought a barber named Solomon Halek to the French consulate for questioning. Halek was singled out because the notice Father Thomas had taken to the Jewish quarter hung on a wall near his shop. Still, after three days of interrogation, the barber continued to insist that he knew nothing. Describing Halek’s refusal to talk as “obstinate silence,” RattiMenton claimed that he had no choice but to turn the man over to Sherif Pasha.

The French consul knew exactly what would happen next. Even though France and other western European nations had outlawed torture as a “barbarous practice”—one that too often resulted in false admissions of guilt—torture was routine in the Ottoman Empire. After beatings so brutal that he was unable to sit, Halek “confessed.” He told the authorities
that Thomas had been brought to the home of a Jewish businessman. There, several Jews, including a rabbi, had bound the monk and then slit his throat. The account continued:

[The Jews] collected the blood in a large silver bowl, because it was to serve for their [Passover] holiday. They stripped the dead friar of his vestments… took his body to another room, cut it to pieces, and crushed its bones with an iron grinder. They put everything into a big coffee sack and threw it into a ditch. Then they poured the blood into bottles, which they gave to the rabbi.
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This was the same “blood libel” that had been used against Jews throughout Europe and the Middle East for more than 600 years (see
Chapter 5
).

Sherif Pasha and Ratti-Menton kept written records of their dealings with every witness and every suspect. They quoted the barber as saying, “Go to the important people in the quarter and they will settle everything.”
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As a result, seven of the richest and most respected Jews in the city were arrested. They too “confessed” after torture so brutal that two of them died. The authorities then searched for evidence but found nothing. Rather than reconsider the theories about the supposed crime, Sherif Pasha took hostages—60 boys ranging in age from 5 to 11—in the hope that their frightened parents would “talk.”

Ratti-Menton claimed that at first he had been skeptical that “the Jews” “employ human blood in the celebration of their religious mysteries,” but with “the mounting evidence,” he overcame his doubts (see
Chapter 5
). What was that evidence? Essentially, it consisted of little more than a few forced confessions and the discovery of a handful of possibly human bones in a sewer in the Jewish quarter.

Early in the investigation, a young Jew named Isaac Yavo reluctantly told the chief rabbi of Damascus that he had seen Father Thomas and his servant in another part of the city on the night of February 5. He had even spoken to them. Knowing that the authorities firmly believed that the Jews they had in custody were guilty of murder, the rabbi tried to make sure that Yavo would be safe if he testified. Ratti-Menton assured the rabbi that no honest witness had anything to fear. As a result, Yavo agreed to tell his story.

The French questioned Yavo for three days and then turned him over to Sherif Pasha for “further interrogation.” Pasha later issued a statement explaining what happened next. It was summarized in this report to the French government:

As the place where this young man stated that he had seen the monk is situated in the west of the town while the Jewish quarter is in the east, he [Sherif Pasha] realized that [Yavo] was therefore lying; he asked [the young man] whether he had not been coached by anybody, but he denied it. He was then flogged; he confessed nothing and was taken to the prison where he died.
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Yavo’s death was a turning point for many Jews in Damascus. They now understood that the authorities were interested only in “evidence” that would “prove” Jews had committed a ritual murder. Several events over the next few weeks confirmed that conclusion. The authorities quickly arrested five more men—this time for the murder of Father Thomas’s servant. Once again, the men charged were among the most prominent Jews in the city, including the chief rabbi. These new prisoners were also subjected to torture; one man died, bringing the death toll to four. But this time two men—the chief rabbi and Moses Salonicli, a merchant—refused to confess to crimes they had not committed.

Charges of ritual murder against Jews were not unusual in the Middle East. Throughout the early nineteenth century, Christians in the Ottoman Empire had accused Jews of ritual murder—in Aleppo in 1810, Beirut in 1824, Antioch in 1826, Hama in 1829, Tripoli in 1834, and Jerusalem in 1838, to name a few. The Ottoman authorities had not punished Jews in any of these cases.

This time was different, because the libelous accusation had the backing of not only the French consul but also nearly every European and American diplomat in the region. The American vice-consul stationed in Beirut claimed in a letter to the U.S. secretary of state that “a most barbarous secret for a long time suspected in the Jewish nation… at last came to light in the city of Damascus, that of serving themselves of Christian blood in their unleavened bread at Easter, a secret which in these 1840 years must have made many unfortunate victims.”
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Casper Merlato, the Austrian consul, warned Jews under his protection that “the secret guarded by the Jewish nation would serve no purpose and would only prove prejudicial to the innocent.” He also congratulated Sherif Pasha on the “zeal and vigor” with which he was conducting the case.
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Why were Europeans so certain Jews were responsible? Were they blinded by old stereotypes and myths? Were they motivated by economic and social competition between Christians and Jews in a city where both were vulnerable minorities? Or were they taking advantage of a local
dispute in order to advance their national interests? There are no clear answers. We only know that they were united in their thinking until one European had second thoughts.

Within days of declaring his support for Sherif Pasha, the Austrian consul challenged the entire investigation. Merlato reconsidered his stand in March, soon after the authorities accused more Jews of murdering Father Thomas’s servant. Among them was Isaac Picciotto, a young Jewish merchant under Austria’s protection. As soon as Picciotto was named a suspect, Merlato told the French consul and Sherif Pasha that he would be tried under Austrian law.

Without waiting for a reply, Merlato and his staff began questioning Picciotto, and they quickly discovered that he had a solid alibi. On the evening of February 5, Picciotto and his wife had attended a party in the Christian quarter. The host, an employee of the British East India Company, confirmed the alibi. Other people also recalled seeing Picciotto and his wife that evening. Yet in spite of this strong alibi, Ratti-Menton and Sherif Pasha continued to insist that Picciotto was guilty.

After much negotiation, Merlato allowed Ratti-Menton and Sherif Pasha to question Picciotto. But unlike the other prisoners, Picciotto never faced his interrogators alone. He was always accompanied by an Austrian official, who was there solely to ensure that he was not mistreated. The consul was making it clear to everyone involved in the case that Austria would do everything possible to protect Picciotto’s rights.

Like Ratti-Menton, Merlato reported the interrogations to his superior, Anton von Laurin, the Austrian consul-general in Alexandria, Egypt. He emphasized that the case against the prisoners was based entirely on forced confessions. There was no evidence to support the idea that the two men were dead, let alone murder victims. Merlato asked von Laurin to transfer the case to Egypt “to prevent not only a subject of our empire, but any European whosoever, from being handed over… to the horrors of this infamous judicial inquisition.”
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