The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College The Haley Classical Journal An Undergraduate Research Publication Affiliated with Hamilton College Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 Page i The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College Hamilton College Editor-in-Chief Managing Editor Deputy Managing Editor Head Copy Editor Layout Editor Deputy Layout Editor Digital Outreach Coordinator Jacob Hane, Hamilton College, 2022 Kayley Boddy, Hamilton College, 2022 Megan Mogauro, Hamilton College, 2024 Aidan Holmgren, Hamilton College, 2023 Eileen Cohn, Hamilton College, 2024 Alyssa Zamudio, Hamilton College, 2024 Laura Hester, Hamilton College, 2023 Peer Editors Kayley Boddy, Hamilton College, 2022 A. M. Davis, Skidmore College, 2022 Melanie Geller, Hamilton College, 2022 Rose Griesgraber, Wellesley College, 2022 Jacob Hane, Hamilton College, 2022 Calyn Clare Liss, Hamilton College, 2022 Molly Osinoff, Hamilton College, 2022 Lydia Davis, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, 2023 Laura Hester, Hamilton College, 2023 Sammy Smock, Hamilton College, 2023 Eileen Cohn, Hamilton College, 2024 Emma Earls, Hamilton College, 2024 Emily Ly, Hamilton College, 2024 Megan Mogauro, Hamilton College, 2024 Julia Sinatra, Hamilton College, 2024 Alyssa Zamudio, Hamilton College, 2024 Rachael Araujo, Hamilton College, 2025 Carly Horton, Hamilton College, 2025 Alison Isko, Hamilton College, 2025 Copy Editors Kayley Boddy, Hamilton College, 2022 Jacob Hane, Hamilton College, 2022 Sammy Smock, Hamilton College, 2023 Eileen Cohn, Hamilton College, 2024 Emily Ly, Hamilton College, 2024 Cover Art: Theo Golden, Hamilton College, 2020 | instagram, @tgoldenart Cover Image: Who’s Denilo | unsplash, @whoisdenilo The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 Page ii The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College Contents nota bene The Philosopher Thecla: Plato, Methodius, and the Apocryphal Acts of Paul and Thecla Africana Receptions and their ‘Oedipal’ Love-Hate Relationship with the Classics Briseis and the Burden of Grief: On Her Famous Lament in the Iliad, Book 19 Reduce, Reuse, Recycle: Roman Spolia and the Practice of Islam in the Medieval Central Mediterranean Lucian’s Megilla: Transcending Time & Gender Achilles as the Master of Ceremonies: Obligations to the Living and the Dead in Iliad 18-24 Jacob Hane and Kayley Boddy iv Emily Aguilar 1 Basmah Ali 6 Anjali Aralikar 10 Niġel Klemenčič- 14 Puglisevich Jul LeCours 20 Amogha Lakshmi 23 Halepuram Sridhar 27 Call for Papers Winter 2022 Issue Property of the Hamilton College Classics Club The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 Page iii The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College Reduce, Reuse, Recycle Roman Spolia and the Practice of Islam in the Medieval Central Mediterranean Niġel Klemenčič-Puglisevich (he/him), Carleton University, Class of 2022 Abstract The study of people reusing earlier materials for their own purposes, often without meaningful intention but rather for convenience, has attracted much academic focus in the last couple decades. This topic is formally known as spolia. The scope of study on this topic thus far has been largely limited to European contexts, and has only recently started to branch into studies of the medieval Islamicate’s culture of reusing existing material. This paper aims to contribute to the emerging study of spolia in medieval Islamic contexts, namely the reuse of Roman architectural materials in locations relevant to the practice of Islam throughout the central Mediterranean, looking particularly at Tunisia, Libya, and Malta. The violent impacts of nineteenth century European colonialism on the central Mediterranean and northern Africa will be discussed in respect to the white supremacist, imperialist political agendas that have historically driven archaeology. Another aim of this paper is to highlight the lack of archaeological studies focusing on medieval Islamic Malta, which has often been observed as a mere interruption in a larger, more profound Christian history as opposed to the rich Islamic settlement that it was for centuries. INTRODUCTION The practice of spolia, or reusing older architectural materials in contemporary building, has been employed by innumerable societies throughout history and is often difficult to avoid, yet spolia was not considered significant by many early archaeologists. Studies of spolia are nearly commonplace in art history today, but when archaeological sciences were first taking root in the Mediterranean between 1880 and 1930, evidence of reuse in ancient structures was disregarded in favor of accessing and preserving the oldest and ‘richest’ strata. Thus, much of the evidence for repurposing ancient materials in later societies is only available in anecdotal references. The term spolia itself is the plural of the Latin word spolium, referring to the spoils of war. The word was first used to label spoils of war, such as statues and other monuments that had been taken from their home region and erected in Rome.1 After a thousand years, the term came to be used in an art historical context by sixteenth century antiquarians. They frequently canvassed Rome and referred to ornamental elements reused in contemporary architecture as spolia.2 Notably, the term was applied by the artist Raphael when instructing Pope Leo X on the subject of Roman art, commenting on the high artistic value of spoglie from Trajan and Antonius Pius.3 The definition and use of the term spolia has now expanded and is conventional in conversations surrounding repurposed art and architecture, specifically of the ancient and medieval worlds. This paper will not be discussing uses of medieval architectural spolia, but rather, like Raphael to the pope, discussing medieval uses of ancient architectural spolia. Unlike Raphael, this paper will critique archaeological practices that have diminished, disregarded, misinterpreted, or even 1 Dale Kinney, “Roman Architectural Spolia,” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 145, no. 2 (2001): 138. 2 Ibid. 3 Dale Kinney, “Spolia. ‘Damnatio’ and ‘Renovatio Memoriae’,” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 42 (1997): 122. The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 discarded medieval uses of ancient architectural spolia. The aim of this paper is to provide insight into the neglected studies of Roman spolia usage in respect to the practice of Islam in the medieval central Mediterranean. The geographical reach of this paper includes Tunisia, Libya, and Malta — all within the context of the violent impacts of nineteenth century European colonialism in these regions. Studies of Roman spolia, particularly in the practice of Islam, have been ignored in favor of connecting colonists to ancient Roman histories, thus intentionally dismissing historical narratives of contemporary central Mediterranean communities. The following sections of this paper will explore each of these three regions as case studies of medieval uses of ancient Roman spolia within Islamic practice, intending to shed light on neglected medieval pasts, particularly in Malta. TUNISIA Tunisia is most notable within studies of ancient history for being the home of the affluent ancient city of Carthage. The city first began as a Phoenician colony in the ninth century BCE but quickly grew into much more — it was the nucleus of the Punic Empire, which came to occupy much of the Western Mediterranean before the Punic Wars. After the Punic Wars and Carthage’s demise, Rome established its first African colony, Africa Proconsularis, nearly within Carthaginian territory. Roman Carthage grew to prominence under Julius Caesar, soon becoming one of Rome’s most opulent colonies.4 Evidence for Punic and Roman activities in Carthage has mostly derived from literary and archaeological sources, the latter of which has been weaponized as a tool of colonialism. The former French colony in the Maghreb composed of modern Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco was subject to intense and violent colonization beginning in the nineteenth century until the respective independences of each nation by the mid-twentieth century. Archaeology 4 H.H. Scullard, From the Gracchi to Nero: A History of Rome 133 BC to AD 68 (London, UK: Methuen Publishing Ltd., 1970), 150. Page 14 The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College in the Mediterranean, and specifically North Africa, was focused on methods of knowledge-acquisition and assertion of control over the region of interest.5 For the French, archaeology also served as a way to assert ties to Roman territory through descent. Traditionally, the French have identified themselves with the Romans in “abstract moral models, ideological or civilizational ancestors, or ‘how-to’ handbooks for military control and economic development.”6 Roman archaeological sites and abstract notions of relations do not together provide concrete evidence for land claims, but the sites provided France with tangible materials that they strategically utilized to justify their imposition on Maghrebi land.7 The narratives derived from archaeological projects in Tunisia were consciously curated to draw linear relations between Romans and the French, yet, quite purposefully, not between the Carthaginians and North Africans. In fact, Carthaginian and Punic narratives were observed as static histories with no connection to or bearing on present times.8 Even post-independence, most of the historical scholarship on the Maghreb was being conducted by Spanish, French, and Italian scholars whose work, while extensive and informative, served a colonial agenda and operated within that very framework.9 Having now established the colonial lens through which archaeological evidence has been transmitted to present day scholarship, I will now cover the archaeological data for Roman spolia relating to the practice of Islam in medieval Tunisia. Like much of North Africa, Islam only became dominant in the region that is now modern Tunisia between the ninth and tenth centuries CE.10 The centuries between Roman rule and the conversion to Islam were split between Byzantine and Vandal occupations and the population was largely comprised of ethnic Berbers, namely the Butr and Barānis.11 Much of the Berber-Carthaginian-Roman-Greek mixed population located on the Mediterranean coast, named al-Afārika by Arabs, had converted to Christianity by the early seventh century. The remainder of the population, almost solely Berber, continued traditional religious practices. Small minorities of Berbers, mostly around the areas of Zeugetania and Byzacena, converted to Christianity in opposition to and exposure from the Romans. There was also a significant Berber population that converted to Judaism, though few writers paid them much attention.12 Come the mid-to-late seventh century CE, the Arab conquest of North Africa began to take root and Islam quickly spread across the Maghreb, the number of converts and settlers growing incre5 Matthew M. McCarty, “French Archaeology and History in the Colonial Maghreb: Inheritance, Presence, and Absence,” in Unmasking Ideology in Imperial and Colonial Archaeology: Vocabulary, Symbols, and Legacy, ed. Effros Bonnie and Lai Guolong (Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology Press at UCLA, 2018), 360. 6 Ibid, 360-361. 7 Ibid, 361. 8 Ibid. 9 H. Monès, “The Conquest of North Africa and the Berber Resistance,” in General History of Africa III: Africa from the Seventh to the Eleventh Century, ed. M. Elfasi (University of California/UNESCO, 1992), 225. 10 Jonathan Conant, Staying Roman: Conquest and Identity in Africa and the Mediterranean (Cambridge University Press, 2012), 363-364. 11 Monès, “The Conquest of North Africa,” 226. 12 Ibid, 229. The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 mentally over the following centuries.13 Once Berbers began to adopt Islam, they started constructing mosques in nearly every corner they inhabited.14 Some of these mosques strategically made use of Roman sites, often abandoned, thus incorporating spolia into their designs. Examples of such usage of spolia are found throughout modern Tunisia, though for the sake of this paper, examples will be extracted from Kairouan, Carthage, and Sousse. The city of Kairouan, a renowned center for Islamic scholarship during the medieval era, located approximately 160 kilometers south of Tunis and Carthage, is home to the Great Mosque of Kairouan.15 The Mosque was first constructed in 670 CE. It was built strategically in the center of the city, and is considered to be one of the most important architectural monuments within the Islamic tradition. It has received a number of renovations, additions, repairs, and restorations over the centuries since its initial erection, though throughout its evolution the value of Roman spolia has been continuous. Historians from the medieval period, including al-Bakri and al-Maliki, have acknowledged the use of Roman porphyry columns supporting the cupola. They point towards Qaysaria (Caesarea) as being the point of origin for these columns.16 It is even said that the Byzantines offered a great deal of money to acquire these columns, but authorities in Kairouan refused on the basis that they would not take them out of the house of God to have them placed in the “house of Satan.”17 The columns in the prayer hall of the Mosque are also composed of Roman elements. The bases, drums, and capitals of the majority of the columns were retrieved from Roman sites, including Carthage.18 The reason for the inclusion of these spolia appears to be less about convenience, as seen in the following section on Libya, and more about power and value (both aesthetic and monetarily).19 The power of the usage of spolia was strategic in that these earlier Roman materials were converted into Islamic materials as an act of service to God. Thus, the placement of Roman capitals proves incredibly intentional and heavily artistic, working with the natural navigation of observers’ eyes whilst curating a statement on the power of Islam. The city of Sousse, located approximately 150 kilometers south of Carthage and Tunis and 50 kilometers east of Kairouan, houses another strong example of Roman spolia in medieval architecture relevant to the practice of Islam. The Ribat of Sousse is a fortress and place of prayer that was initially constructed during the Muslim conquest of North Africa by Aghlabid authorities occupying modern Tunisia. Construction first took place between 775 and 788 CE by order of Yazid ibn Hätim al-Muhallabi. Various extensions were added over the years, including a watchtower in 821 CE.20 The Ribat is nearly a perfect square in shape, measuring 13 Monès, “The Conquest of North Africa,” 229. 14 Ibid, 240. 15 Caroline Goodson, “Topographies of Power in Aghlabid-Era Kairouan,” in The Aghlabids and Their Neighbors (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2018), 93. 16 Faouzi Mahfoudh, “La Grande Mosquée de Kairouan: textes et contexte archéologique,” in The Aghlabids and Their Neighbors (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2018), 188. 17 Ibid. 18 Henri Saladin, “Tunis et Kairouan,” in Les Villes d’art célèbres, ed. Henri Laurens (Paris, 1908), 120. 19 Mahfoudh, “La Grand Mosquée de Kairouan,” 188-189. 20 Xavier Casanovas, Antònia Navarro, and Karima Zoghlami, Les colonnes de granite du ribat de sousse (Barcelona: Montada, 2012), 9. Page 15 The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College 39 by 38 meters, and features round towers at every corner of the building except for the southeast, where the watchtower is located.21 The central courtyard of the Ribat is where Roman spolia are on full display. The archives and stone vaults feature several columns and capitals from Roman sites, not just from Tunisia, but also from Malta. Medieval geographer al-Himyari, in his geographic text entitled Kitāb al-Rawḍ al-Miʿṭār, recounts the origins of the materials used to construct the Ribat.22 He describes that these materials came from Roman Christian churches in the modern city of Mdina in Malta that were desecrated during the Siege of Melite in 870 CE.23 This account is also corroborated by medieval physician and writer Ibn al-Gazzar, who wrote in Kitāb al-’Uyūn that “every cut slab, every marble column in this fort was brought over from the church of Malta by Ifabasi ibn ‘Umar in the hope of meriting the approval and kindness of Allah the Powerful and Glorious.”24 The Ribat of Sousse utilized Roman spolia acquired from conquest intentionally, artistically, and — perhaps most importantly — religiously. The use of such spolia saw these architectural elements utilized in the service of the Islamic faith as opposed to Christian. In this case, Roman architecture was explicitly sought to serve and appease God in a newly constructed building designed to protect the faith of Muslims. LIBYA Ancient Libya was settled by nearly every major ancient power in the Mediterranean, including the Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, and Ptolemaic rulers of Egypt. The name “Libya” itself is Greek in origin, coming from the ancient ethnonym Libu attributed to a Berber tribe of North Africa. Various ancient peoples laid claim to all or portions of the land that makes up modern Libya and left their mark in their respective material remains, often now seen in ancient theatres, villas, temples, statues, and more. The history of archaeology in Libya is contentious and deeply colonial, as is true in many parts of the world, like Tunisia and the wider Maghreb. Archaeology in Libya began primarily as a product of Italian colonization in the early twentieth century. That year, the first archaeological mission was led by Federico Halbherr in 1910, supported by Catholic historian Gaetano De Sanctis, just over a year before the beginning of total Italian colonization.25 In his practice, De Sanctis felt it was Italy’s job to continue the “civilizing mission… started by imperial Rome.”26 He also frequently compared modern Africa to that of the “ancient barbarian West.”27 Italy’s colonial efforts, including those masquerading as archaeology, are responsible for the transmission of historical insight into ancient Libya that scholars possess today. Therefore, the information available to scholars and the systems of information 21 Xavier Casanovas, Antònia Navarro, and Karima Zoghlami, Les colonnes de granite du ribat de sousse (Barcelona: Montada, 2012), 9. 22 Al-Ḥimyarī, Malta 870-1054: Al-Himyari’s Account and its Linguistic Implications, trans. Joseph Brincat (Malta: Said International, 1995). 23 Ibid, 11. 24 Ibid, 17. 25 Massimiliano Munzi, “Italian Archaeology in Libya from Colonial Romanità to Decolonization of the Past,” in Archaeology Under Dictatorship, ed. Michael Galaty and Charles Watkinson (Boston, MA: Springer, 2004), 77-78. 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid. The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 distribution are both products and tools of colonial and white supremacist agendas. Scholars utilized archaeological data as materializations of their prejudiced ideologies, and created a metaphysical spolia that has been ransacked into fitting a racist, imperialist framework. The materialization of archaeological data in such a way is “a strategic element of political strategy,” an exercise of power over knowledge and identity.28 Moreover, while some of the material from Italian excavations in Libya were well documented, others were not, and many sites ended up damaged or destroyed due to military efforts.29 Perhaps it also goes without saying that the agenda of Italian excavators in the early twentieth century was specifically related to unearthing an ancient Roman past. Material stuck between modern and ancient strata were seldom preserved. Ancient Roman architectural spolia employed in the medieval period for uses relevant to the practice of Islam appear in many regions across Libya’s Mediterranean coastline. Archaeological and historical surveys have been centrally focused around Tripoli; for the sake of this paper, examples come from in and around that region. Tripoli’s visible Roman past has largely been consumed by building efforts from the medieval period to today. In instances of medieval buildings built specifically for the practice of Islam, likely constructed by the Ottomans, the selective inclusions of Roman architectural elements suggest careful consideration and purposeful intention relating to an assertion of power. As seen throughout this paper, these strategic uses of Roman architectural elements represent an exercise in political domination through converting physical materials from Roman to Islamic. Some of the prime examples of Roman spolia in Tripoli come from the city’s mosques. Libyan mosques are unique in their own right — despite influence from the Syrian-Egyptian and Maghreb artistic schools, workers in Libya developed a style that stands apart from mosques of Arab, Persian, or Ottoman design.30 Looking back to the way Roman columns were incorporated in Tunisian mosques alongside Libyan examples does illuminate certain patterns for the use of spolia, though each for a unique purpose. The spolia employed at both An-Naga Mosque and the Mosque of Mūrād Aghā, which will be introduced in the following paragraphs, were utilized mostly for convenience, as medieval Libya struggled economically and could not easily afford to outsource materials and labor. Shafts, capitals, and other architectural elements provided strong supports and ornamental pieces for the buildings; thus, the use of spolia was ultimately both practical and aesthetically appealing. An-Naga Mosque in the Medina (the city’s old town), considered Tripoli’s oldest mosque, incorporates ancient Roman architecture into its supports. The columns of the Mosque are positioned in a regular pattern throughout the mosque’s multi-domed hall. The columns most central in the picture are crowned by Roman capitals, repurposed in the original tenth century construc28 Elizabeth DeMarrais, Luis Jaime Castillo, and Timothy Earle, “Ideology, Materialization, and Power Strategies,” Current Anthropology 37, no. 1 (1996): 17. 29 Ibid, 79. 30 Simonetta Ciranna, “Pulcherrima Spolia in the Architecture and Urban Space at Tripoli,” in Perspektiven der Spolienforschung, ed. Stefan Altekamp, Carmen Marcks-Jacobs, and Peter Seiler (Berlin: Edition Topoi, 2017), 74. Page 16 The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College tion of the Mosque, which was later rebuilt in 1610.31 This mosque characteristically matches the typical design of a Libyan mosque in its quadrilateral plan, multi-arched and multi-domed hall, and modular squares repeated in rows defined by four columns.32 The purpose of this use of spolia relates more to a convenient construction resource than to a political statement. A more well-documented example of a mosque constructed using Roman spolia in the region of Tripoli, 16 kilometers east of Tripoli in Tājūrā’, is the Mosque of Mūrād Aghā. The namesake of the mosque comes from the Turkish naval officer who conquered Tripoli from the Order of Knights of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem with the privateer Darghūt, and then occupied Malta and continued to do so until 1798. Mūrād Aghā became the sovereign of Tājūrā’ and began a project to construct a fortress in the village. Amidst construction, he was compelled to turn the fortress into a mosque.33 The construction of this fortress-turned-mosque sourced materials from a variety of sources, including columns from a ship that sank just off the beach at Tājūrā’ and spolia from the many ruined Roman villas littering the coast.34 The elements extracted from these villas consisted mostly of “plain and fluted shafts.”35 These shafts form the central supports of the main prayer hall of the mosque, and thus are much more practical in their incorporation, as opposed to being politically incorporated. MALTA The Maltese archipelago, located in the middle of a narrow passage in the Mediterranean between Tunisia, Libya, and Sicily, is one of the most historically significant stepping-stones between southern Europe and North Africa. The strategic position of Malta has governed its entire history — including its populations, rulers, occupiers, trade, religion, language, and culture. Modern Malta reflects this complicated and layered history that is somewhere between Arab and European. Throughout Malta’s ancient and early medieval history, it has traditionally been placed within African boundaries under Punic, Carthaginian, Roman, Byzantine, Aghlabid, and Fatimid occupation.36 Its later medieval and early modern occupiers, namely the Order of Knights of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem, sought to condition Malta to be politically aligned with Europe, crafting the Islands to protect Christianity from Ottoman threats. As a product of occupation, Malta is largely Catholic, though its population speaks Maltese, which descended from Arabic during the medieval period. Each people that occupied Malta left various intangible and tangible remains across the Islands. In this section, the city of Mdina and its suburb of Rabat will be analyzed for their Roman remains and the medieval usage of such remains in Islamic contexts on the main island. Archaeology in Malta has been almost exclusively devoted to 31 Charles O’Cecil, “Tripoli: Crossroads of Rome and Islam,” Saudi Aramco World 61, no. 3 (2010): 16-23. 32 Ciranna, “Pulcherrima Spolia in Tripoli,” 76. 33 Ibid, 80. 34 Ibid. 35 Ibid. 36 Ayse Devrim Atauz, Eight Thousand Years of Maltese Maritime History: Trade, Piracy, and Naval Warfare in the Central Mediterranean (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2008), 2. The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 prehistoric archaeology, with some pursuits into classical archaeology. Malta’s most celebrated archaeologists, including Themistocles Zammit, David Trump, Anthony Bonanno, Antonio Annetto Caruana, and Manuel Magri all focused their energies into excavating prehistoric sites, some occasionally venturing into Punic and Roman sites. Until the turn of the twenty-first century, the Roman period in Malta was still considered something of a ‘Dark Age,’ according to David Trump.37 While archaeology in Malta has largely been pursued by the Maltese themselves, it was not without its colonial motives. Archaeology was first pursued in Malta during the 1880s while Malta was still a British colony, as it would remain until 1964.38 In an attempt to justify the British claim to Maltese soil, Gerald Strickland, a British-Maltese politician, identified an abstract mutual relation between the Maltese and the British in the Phoenicians. Strategically, this theory emerged contemporaneously to the discussion of Maltese independence, as the British were attempting to keep their hold on the Central Mediterranean archipelago.39 Strickland’s theory encouraged the thought that the Maltese were ethnic Phoenicians and that their Semitic tongue was a descendent of the Phoenician language, not Arabic.40 Strickland thus distanced the Maltese from their North African, Arab roots and created an abstract common ancestor that could be utilized in the colonial playing field. This claim has since been disproven, but its consequences still are felt in discussions of heritage in popular settings throughout Malta.41 More recently, the practice of archaeology in Malta has started to expand its scope to include maritime archaeology, focusing on Punic and Roman activities, dedicated excavations on Punic and Roman sites, and occasional projects focusing on the medieval period. Though, as Godfrey Wettinger stated in 2010: One is also now waiting for the appropriate [medieval] archaeological investigation in a strictly controlled fashion and following the normal archaeological methodology and eventual publication after the usual peer review without non-academic interference from Church or State.42 While he never publicly elaborated on this statement, it is evident from this that Maltese archaeology still faces the consequences of British colonial influence through political and other institutional frameworks that shill for imperial values of Europeanness. This is exceptionally clear in explanations of the Aghlabid and Fatimid presence and the potential eradication of any previous population prior to 870 CE — both of which lack appropriate depth and ded37 David Trump, “Some Problems in Maltese Archaeology,” Malta Archaeological Review 3 (1999): 34. 38 Nicholas C. Vella and Oliver Gilkes, “The Lure of the Antique: Nationalism, Politics and Archaeology in British Malta (1880–1964),” Papers of the British School at Rome 69 (2001): 353. 39 Ibid. 40 P. Grech, “Are there any traces of Punic in Maltese?” Journal of Maltese Studies 1 (1961): 137. 41 Through personal communication and experience, one can quickly recognize how much more fondly the Phoenicians are thought of in the Maltese collective historical consciousness than the Aghlabids or Fatimids. 42 Godfrey Wettinger, “Malta in the High Middle Ages,” Ambassadors’ Hall, Auberge de Castille, Malta, December 7, 2010. Page 17 The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College icated study. The most notable and extensive evidence for the spread of Islam into Malta is observed in the town of Rabat, located just outside the city walls of Mdina. On the north end of Rabat is the Domvs Romana Museum, built to house the remains of a Roman villa unearthed on site in 1881 by A.A. Caruana. Initial excavations halted that same year but were eventually continued by Themistocles Zammit in 1920.43 The objective of the excavation was to uncover more of the site’s Roman heritage, yet to their surprise, they continually exposed a significant number of human remains on top of the villa’s ruins and surrounding site. Through evaluation of the burial methods and materials, it was discerned that the burials were in fact Muslim, dating to the eleventh century. During Caruana’s excavations, 44 Muslim burials were accounted for, and during Zammit’s, over 250.44 However, as the excavation’s objective was ultimately to source Roman archaeological materials, the remains of the Muslims buried on site were disposed of in a pit outside of the excavation area.45 These burials were often accompanied by Kufic tombstones, usually containing verses from the Qur’an.46 These inscriptions were incised into marble sourced from the Roman villa that laid beneath the cemetery. The marble was also utilized as spolia in the building of the tomb walls that would prevent dirt from piling atop the bodies once buried, in accordance with Islamic burial practices.47 Roman ceramic fragments were also found within some of the burials. These were likely not grave goods, which are rare in Islamic burials, but rather accidental inclusions due to interference between strata either during the initial internment or excavation.48 The site of the Roman villa was intentionally chosen by the Fatimid settlers. It provided ample materials to work with to construct tombs and tombstones, and was likely already in extensive ruins, creating open space for burial. A similar ideology could have also been applied here as it was in Kairouan: converting Roman spolia into Islamic materials as a service to God. Other examples are seen in the city of Mdina, though they are not as easily accessible as the cemetery in Rabat. Anecdotes of Mdina’s Islamic history are observed throughout the city, both in its name (coming from the holy city of Medina) and in its architecture. The fortifications of the city were largely initially constructed during Fatimid occupation and follow conventions of Islamic fortification architectural technology, though there is a strong possibility that the location of the fort emerged from preexisting Roman or Byzantine foundations or boundaries.49 The characteristics of the fort resemble that of a Byzantine pyrgokastellon type.50 Studies 43 Veronica Barbara, “Are We Being Multi-Vocal? The Case of Presenting Archaeological Heritage in Malta,” MA Thesis (University of Malta, 2013), 110. 44 Ibid. 45 Themistocles Zammit, “Excavations at Rabat, Malta,” The Antiquaries Journal 3, no. 3 (1923): 219. 46 Barbara, “Are We Being Multi-Vocal?” 111. 47 Vincenza Grassi, “Materiali per lo Studio della Presenza Araba nella Regione Italiana,” Studi Magrebini 21 (1989): 16. 48 Ibid. 49 Stephen Spiteri, “The ‘Castellu di la Chitati’ the medieval castle of the walled town of Mdina,” Online Journal of Military Architecture and Fortification (20042007): 4. 50 Ibid. The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 on the fortification have suggested that Fatimid construction on the site took advantage of existing Roman and Byzantine materials and natural depressions in the ground.51 Other fortresses were constructed around the island using Roman and Byzantine materials, including at San Pawl Milqi, where Roman farmhouses were repurposed as building materials.52 Many other forts throughout Malta have gone without proper studies of their origins. The lack of architectural remains from this period and before in Malta does not signal inactivity — on the contrary, it is a signifier for an organized deconstruction of evidence for non-Christian occupation of Malta. Such happened similarly in Sicily after the Norman conquest there in 1139 CE, only briefly after the 1091 capture of Malta.53 There also have been no systematic archaeological excavations with the objective of seeking medieval Islamic material or architectural remains. The finds that have been documented and published have often been found accidentally whilst digging for remains from an earlier period. Thus, in looking at the lack of architectural remains from the practice of Islam in medieval Malta, one may be able to use evidence from other Central Mediterranean sites, such as in Tunisia or Libya, to aid in the overdue reconstruction and revaluation of Malta’s medieval Islamic heritage. The patterned evidence for Roman architectural spolia usage in medieval Islamic practice and a strong understanding of Roman settlement patterns in Malta may guide the recovery of neglected cultural heritage. CONCLUSION The use of spolia in sites that pertain to the practice of Islam in the medieval period suggests that there was an opportunity to take advantage of abandoned materials in areas for a variety of significant reasons. Many regions throughout the Central Mediterranean in the medieval period lacked the technology and/or economy to produce and construct structures to suit their needs, so relying on the locations and materials of the Romans, as well as other peoples outside the scope of this paper, gave them a starting point to build in their own unique ways. The usage of Roman architectural spolia, in particular, arises in situations of religious service and power, which is evident in mosques of Tunisia, and in situations of convenience due to a lack of technology and/or resources, as seen throughout sites in Libya and Malta. The use of spolia is not one-dimensional and does not suggest a lack of innovation or originality — rather the opposite. It suggests a complex and layered outpouring of creativity and artistic design that was vital to the construction of early Islamic sacred spaces and interactions with their neighbors, conquered land, and the peoples within those borders. Growing interest in the area of Roman spolia used in the spread of early Islam may be utilized in future explorations of Islamic sites throughout the Central Mediterranean, and beyond, both through new archaeological data and analyzing existing data that may have been diminished, disregarded, misinterpreted, or even discarded. 51 Spiteri, 4. 52 Vincent Zammit, “Maltese Fortifications,” Civilization 2 (1982): 29. 53 Godfrey Wettinger, “The Arabs in Malta,” In Malta: Studies of its Heritage and History, ed. John Henry Newman (Valletta: Mid-Med Bank, 1986), 88. Page 18 The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College Works Cited Al-Ḥimyarī. Malta 870-1054: Al-Himyari’s Account and its Linguistic Implications. Translated by Joseph Brincat. Malta: Said International, (1995). Atauz, Ayse Devrim. Eight Thousand Years of Maltese Maritime History: Trade, Piracy, and Naval Warfare in the Central Mediterranean. 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The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 Page 19 The Haley Classical Journal, an undergraduate research publication affiliated with Hamilton College gratias The Haley Classical Journal is a peer-reviewed, undergraduate research journal affiliated with the Hamilton College Classics Department and operated through the Hamilton College Classics Club. The journal’s mission is to amplify often unheard or underrepresented voices in the classics, and to publicize growing fields and disciplines within and around the classics. The Haley publishes articles from across the world, and does not discriminate on the basis of race, gender, sexuality, religion, creed, socioeconomic background, or any other identifying factors. The Haley Classical Journal Jacob Hane Kayley Boddy Megan Mogauro Aidan Holmgren Eileen Cohn Alyssa Zamudio Laura Hester Editor-in-Chief Managing Editor Deputy Managing Editor Head Copy Editor Layout Editor Deputy Layout Editor Digital Outreach Coordinator Hamilton College Classics Department Faculty Anne Feltovich Jesse Weiner Amy Koenig Martin Shedd Chair, Associate Professor of Classics Assistant Professor of Classics Assistant Professor of Classics Visiting Assistant Professor of Classics Classics Department Hamilton College 198 College Hill Rd Clinton, NY 13323 Email: haleyclassical@gmail.com Twitter: @HaleyJournal For more information on The Haley, please go to our Twitter page or email us. The Haley | Volume III | Issue I | February 2022 Page 28