Byzantium: Fall Of An Empire (2008)

- [Narrator] The Fall of an Empire:
The Lesson of Byzantium.

In 1453, the Byzantine Empire fell.

Let us now take a look at
how this happened.

This city was once called Constantinople;

six centuries ago it was the capital city

of what was without exaggeration one

of the greatest civilizations
in world history,

the Byzantine Empire.

A rule by law,
something we now take for granted,

was created here,
based upon the Roman codes,

in Byzantium, 1500 years ago.

A legal system which was

to become the basic foundation
of all types of laws

in most modern governments
was the monumental creation

of Byzantine jurisprudence

during the reign of Emperor Justinian.

The system of elementary
and higher education

first developed in Byzantium;

it was here, in the fifth century,

that the first university appeared.

The most stable financial system

in the history of mankind was created
in Byzantium,

and existed in a nearly unaltered form

for over one thousand years.

Modern diplomacy with its
basic principles, rules of conduct,

and etiquette was created
and refined here, in Byzantium.

Byzantine engineering and architectural
arts were unrivaled.

Even today, famous works
by Byzantine masters

as the domes of the Hagia Sophia
amaze the world

with their technological perfection.

No other empire in human history lasted

as long as Byzantium.

It existed for 1,123 years.

In comparison: the great Roman Empire
collapsed 800 years

after its establishment;

the Ottoman Empire fell apart
after 500 years;

the Chinese Qing or Manchu Empire
after 300 years.

The Russian Empire lasted 200 years;
the British 150 years;

the Austro-Hungarian empire lasted
around 100 years.

During its zenith, Byzantium was home
to one-sixth

of the entire world population.

The Empire stretched from Gibraltar

to the Euphrates and Arabia.

It encompassed the territories of
modern Greece and Turkey,

Israel and Egypt, Bulgaria,
Serbia and Albania,

Tunisia, Algeria and Morocco,

part of Italy, Spain and Portugal.

There were around one thousand cities
in Byzantium—

nearly as many as in modern Russia.

The capital city’s incalculable wealth,

its beauty and elegance,

amazed all the European peoples,

who were still barbarians at the time

when the Byzantine Empire was
in its apogee.

One can only imagine—

indeed, history records it as such—

how crude, ignorant Scandinavians,
Germans,

Franks, and Anglo-Saxons,

whose chief occupation

at the time was primitive sacking
and pillaging,

after arriving from some town
like Paris or London

which had populations of some
tens of thousands

to this megalopolis of millions,

a city of enlightened citizens, scholars,

and elegantly dressed youths crowding
imperial universities,

dreamt of only one thing:
invading and robbing,

robbing and invading.

In fact, when this was actually
accomplished in 1204

by an army of Europeans calling
themselves Crusaders,

who, instead of freeing the Holy Land,

treacherously sacked the most beautiful
city in the world,

Byzantine treasures were carried away

in an uninterrupted flow

over the course of fifty years.

Hundreds of tons of precious coins alone
were carried away

at a time when the annual budget

of the wealthiest European countries
was no more

than two tons of gold.

Venice. The Cathedral of St. Mark.

All the columns, marble,

and precious adornments were stolen

at that very time.

By the way, those horses are
from the imperial quadriga,

carried away from Constantinople
by the Crusaders.

Priceless holy relics and works
of art were looted,

but even more taken by barbarians
from Brussels, London,

Nuremberg, and Paris were
simply destroyed—

melted down into coins or thrown away
like refuse.

To this day, the museums of Europe
are bursting

with stolen Byzantine treasures.

But let us take into consideration that

only a small portion was
actually preserved.

It was during this period of looting

that the monstrous modern
lending system was created

using treasures stolen from
Constantinople.

This average sized city in Italy—Venice—

was the New York of
the thirteenth century.

The financial fate of nations
was decided here.

At first, most of the booty was
easily taken by sea

to Venice and Lombardy.

The Russian word for “pawn shop” to
this day is “Lombard”.

The first European banks began to
spring up like mushrooms

after a good rain.

The English and Dutch,

more reserved than their contemporary
Italians and Germans,

joined the activity a little later,

and, with the help of Byzantine riches
pouring in,

developed that famous capitalism

with its inevitable lust for profits,

which is essentially a sort of
genetic continuation

of the sport of military plunder.

The first significant Jewish capital
was amassed

as a result of speculation
in Byzantine relics.

An unprecedented flow of free money caused
the Western European cities

to grow turbulently,

and became the decisive catalyst in
the development of craft,

science, and the arts.

The barbaric West became
the civilized West

only after it had taken over,
seized, destroyed,

and swallowed up the Byzantine Empire.

We must admit that our own
Slavic forebears

were no more well-mannered,

and also succumbed to
the barbaric temptation

to get rich quick at the expense

of Constantinople’s seemingly
inexhaustible wealth.

However, to their credit,
and fortunately for us,

their lust for the spoils of war

did not eclipse the most important thing:

Russians comprehended Byzantium’s
greatest treasure.

This was neither gold,
nor expensive textiles,

nor even art and sciences.

The greatest treasure of Byzantium
was God.

Having traveled the world over in
the search of the truth and God,

the ambassadors of Grand Prince Vladimir
of Russia

experienced only in Byzantium

that a true relationship between God
and man exists;

that it's possible for us to have
living contact

with another world.

“We did not know whether we were
in heaven or on earth,”

said the ancestors of
present-day Russians,

astounded by their experience
of Divine Liturgy

in the Empire’s most important cathedral,
the Hagia Sophia.

They understood just what kind of treasure

can be obtained in Byzantium.

It was upon this treasure that
our great forebears founded

not banks, nor capital, nor even museums
and pawn shops.

They founded Rus’, Russia,

the spiritual successor of Byzantium.

So what made it possible for
a nation so great

in the arena of world history,

with such extraordinary capabilities,

to so suddenly begin to lose
its life-giving force?

What is most interesting is that
the problems Byzantium met

during its period of decline—
aggression from foreign nations,

natural disasters,
economic and political crises—

were nothing new for this

over a thousand-year-old government

with its proven mechanism

for getting out of
the most difficult situations.

After all, the empire had experienced
all these things before,

and had overcome them.

Yes, there were many envious enemies
both east and west,

there were earthquakes,
there were plagues;

but it was not these which
crushed Byzantium.

All of these problems could
have been overcome

if only the Byzantines had been able

to overcome themselves.

Today we will talk about that inner enemy

which appeared within the spiritual depths

of Byzantine society,

and broke the spirit of that great nation,

turning it into a helpless victim of
those historical challenges,

which Byzantium was no longer
able to answer.

Nowadays we generally assess
a society’s well-being

according to its economy.

Although the word “economics,”
and even the science

of economics itself hails from Byzantium,

the Byzantines themselves never gave it
much attention.

The Byzantine financial-economic system

underwent several serious crises
during the course of history,

but the effectiveness of
the Empire’s industry

and agriculture generally enabled it
to weather the storms.

Suffice it to say that for
a thousand years,

all international trade was based upon
the Byzantine gold coin.

But Byzantium could not solve the problem

of its government’s loss of control

over its own finances

and the huge, ungovernable process
of capital flow

towards the West, to developing Europe,

and this is what finally destroyed
its economy.

The government dropped all levers
of trade and industry,

and in the end gave all its trade
and industrial resources

over to foreign entrepreneurs.

It happened like this:

An important financial resource

in the country was not gas and oil,
as it is now,

but customs obtained from
the enormous international trade

in the Bosphorus and Dardenelles.

The Byzantines, who earlier relied

solely upon their own capability

to govern the country’s economics,

suddenly began heated discussions about,

and finally decided upon,

consigning the problems of
international trade

to their foreign friends,
who were more resourceful,

and ready to take responsibility

for the expense of complex transport,

armed guards along trade routes,

the construction of new ports,

and the intensification and development

of commercial activities.

Western specialists were called in
from Venice and Genoa,

towns which had grown large

on several centuries of Byzantine trade.

They were granted duty-free trade,

and entrusted with the patrol
of sea routes

along the Empire’s territory.

The West began by hook or by crook

to lure Byzantium into
the formative prototype

of unified European trade organizations;

and, taking advantage of one of
the most complicated periods

in the life of the Empire,

succeeded in reaching its aim:

Emperor Alexios Komnenos signed

an international trade agreement

to the Empire’s great disadvantage,
called the “Golden Bulla.”

This agreement was in actuality deceitful,

and profitable only to the West.

At first everyone was pleased:

the government saved a lot of money

that formerly went to its trade
and military fleets,

trade increased,

and the city’s shops and markets
overflowed with European

and Asian products they
had never seen before.

But this did not come without a price.

After just a few decades,

domestic industry and agriculture
degraded sharply.

All the Byzantine traders
either went bankrupt

or became dependent upon foreigners.

When the country finally realized
what was happening,

it was too late.

The “Golden Bulla” was annulled,

and Emperor Andronikos tried to
reverse the flow of money

back towards the empire.

He confiscated all foreign
commercial enterprises,

which were draining the government
of its last resources.

Both he and the country paid
dearly for this.

He himself was brutally murdered;

as for his country…

The republic of Venice,

which had by that time become
a huge financial oligarchy,

hired a whole crusade,

and sent it to back to Constantinople
instead of the Holy Land.

The Byzantines,

who had up until then considered
the crusaders

to be in general brothers in Faith
and military allies,

were so unprepared for such
a treacherous blow

that it was unable to organize
sufficient defense.

In 1204, French, German,
and Italian contingents

of the Western allies advanced
upon Constantinople

and took it over.

The city was mercilessly pillaged
and put to the torch.

At the same time, Venice,

considered then to be the stronghold
of free enterprise,

announced to the whole Western world

that it was only restoring
disdained law and order

and the rights of a free
international market;

and mainly, it was warring with a regime

which denies all European values.

This was the moment when the West began

to create an image of Byzantium
as a heretical “evil empire.”

As time went by, this image would
continually be pulled out

for use from Western ideological arsenals.

Although Constantinople was recovered
fifty years later,

Byzantium would never recover
from the blow.

Meanwhile, foreign traders would retain
complete control

over both the economy and
the Byzantine market.

Another unresolved problem

in Byzantium was corruption and oligarchy.

The government warred
with them continually,

and was for a long time quite effective.

Bureaucrats and financial schemers

who had gone too far were
punished and exiled,

their possessions completely confiscated

and given to the treasury.

However, the authorities never
really had the strength

and resolve to check this evil
systematically.

Oligarchs gathered whole armies
under the pretext

of servants and guards,

and plunged the government into
the thick of civil wars.

How did these oligarchs emerge

in Byzantium,

and why did they become uncontrollable?

Byzantium had always been

a strictly centralized bureaucratic
government;

however, this was by no means
its weakness,

but rather its historical strength.

All efforts to combine authority

with personal interests were cut off
firmly and decisively.

However, during one moment in the period

of political and administrative reforms,

the temptation arose to exchange the old

and seemingly awkward
bureaucratic machinery

for something more effective and flexible,

in which the government’s role
would be limited,

and relegated to that of an overseer
of formal legalities.

To put it simply, the government,
out of good intentions

and with its eye upon European experience,

in fact willingly relinquished a portion

of its strategic monopolistic functions,

handing them over to
a small circle of families.

However, contrary to the
government’s expectations,

this new aristocracy it was feeding

did not remain long under the control

of the bureaucratic apparatus.

Resistance continued with
alternating success,

and ended in a serious political crisis,

out of which the government could escape

only at the price of irreversible
concessions to foreigners.

We know what happened after this.

The oligarchic corruption

of the government continued up until
the very takeover

of Constantinople by the Turks.

Incidentally, the oligarchs
not only failed

to provide the government
with money or arms

during this final invasion by the Turks,

but even grabbed what little was left
in the treasury.

When the young Sultan Mehmed
took the city,

he was shocked at the exorbitant wealth
of some citizens

while the city’s army was
completely lacking.

He summoned the richest citizens

and asked them a simple question:

why they did not provide any money

for the city’s protection from the enemy?

“We were saving these funds for
your Sultanic Majesty”

was their flattering answer.

Mehmed had them punished immediately

in the cruelest manner:

their heads were chopped off,

and their bodies thrown to the dogs.

Those oligarchs who fled
to the West hoping

to hide their capital were
mercilessly fleeced

by their Western “friends,”

and ended their lives in poverty.

A huge problem of the Byzantine government

during the period of decline was
its frequent change

in political direction,

which could be called a lack of
stability and succession

in governmental powers.

With each change of emperors,

the empire’s direction would
often change drastically.

This weakened the country severely,

and cruelly exhausted the population.

Political stability is one of
the most important conditions

for a strong state.

This was the testament of
the great Byzantine emperors.

However, they began to disregard
this testament.

There was a period when a new emperor was

in power every four years on the average.

Could it have been possible
under such conditions

for the country to undergo a revival,

or complete any large-scale
state projects—

projects which would have
required many years

of systematic effort?

Of course, there were

also very strong emperors in Byzantium.

One example was Basil II, who was,

by the way,
Grand Prince Vladimir’s godfather.

He took on the Empire’s rule
after a serious crisis:

the country had been practically
privatized by oligarchs.

First of all, he took tough measures

to enforce a vertical power structure,

quelled all separatist movements
in outlying territories,

and suppressed rebellious
governors and oligarchs,

who were preparing to
dismember the empire.

Then he “purged” the government,

and confiscated huge sums of stolen money.

Basil II’s strict measures allowed him

to build the state treasury
to unprecedented sums—

the Empire’s annual income
was ninety tons of gold

during his reign.

As a comparison, Russia reached
such levels

only towards the beginning of
the 19th century.

Basil significantly weakened

the mighty regional oligarch-magnates.

These local sovereigns’ influence
and power were

at times incomparably greater

than that of the official governors.

Once, during a military campaign,

the Asia Minor magnate Eustaphios Maleinos

demonstratively invited Emperor Basil
and his troops

to rest at his estate,

and was easily able to accommodate
this huge army

until they had sufficiently recuperated.

This oligarch seriously hoped to
influence the country’s fate.

He began his intrigues,

then moved his own puppet
candidate forward

to the upper levels of authority.

Later he would pay dearly for this.

All of his vast property was confiscated,

and he himself was sent to one

of the most distant prisons in the Empire.

After the rebellion of another magnate,

Bardos Skleros, was put down,

Skleros even advised Basil II
in a candid discussion

to exhaust the magnates with taxes,
special tasks,

and governmental service,

so that they would not have time

to get so rich and powerful.

Having restored the verticality of
authority in the country,

Basil left a sort of “stabilization fund”
to his successor

which was so large, that, in the words
of Michael Psellos,

he had to dig new labyrinths

in the underground treasury stores.

The national reserve was designated
first of all

for military reforms

and the organization of a professional,
capable army.

Byzantium in general had quite a problem

with her “successors,”

although the Byzantines were
the greatest specialists

in the world in the area
of royal succession.

They did not have the principle
of inheritance to the throne.

Wishing to ensure that power succeed
to a worthy heir,

the emperors usually chose
one or two candidates,

and actively drew them into
governmental affairs,

delegated high and responsible positions

in the government to them,
and observed them.

There was even a system whereby
the country would have

at one time an emperor

and so-called junior emperors, the heirs.

This was all very reasonable,

but no matter how well they honed
the system of succession,

in the final analysis it became clear

that it was simply the luck of the draw.

Basil II was unlucky.

Too occupied with governmental affairs,

he was unable to prepare
a worthy successor,

and the throne passed to
his natural brother Constantine VIII.

When the new emperor began to feel free,

powerful, and fabulously wealthy,

he dedicated himself not
to governmental affairs,

but rather to ecstatic daydreams

about accomplishments and glory

which were supposed to eclipse
those of his brother.

The results were sorrowful:

under the aegis of the dreamer
in porphyry,

the cynical ruling elite quickly
lost the obedience

and discipline cultivated by Basil II,

and immersed themselves in power struggles

with renewed vigor.

Although the oligarchs quickly
achieved their aim,

it came with a price.

If Basil II punished insubordination
by confiscation of property,

or, in extreme cases, by blinding—

a punishment not uncommon
during the Middle Ages—,

his successor, the hysterical Constantine,

during fits of anger, castrated half

of his contemporary Byzantine
administrative elite.

Furthermore, his extravagance eclipsed

even that of one of the most
dissolute emperors

of the country’s period of decline,

whose nickname was “The Drunkard,”

and like him, in a state of inebriation,

entertained the rabble at
the city hippodrome,

three times larger than
this Roman Coliseum.

The next successor also failed
to fulfill expectations.

Their vertical, central power structure
began to collapse.

The result of a new uprising amongst
the clans and elite

and the continual re-shifting

of property was predictably deplorable—

within fifty years the Empire found itself

on the brink of destruction.

The large stabilizing fund,

in the hands of inept sovereigns,

caused more harm than good—

this money gained without effort began

to work against the country
by corrupting society.

The same historian, Michael Psellos,
remarked bitterly

that the empire “grew sick”
from the misuse

and plunder of this money
set aside by Basil.

“The government’s body,” he wrote,
“became bloated.”

Some were glutted with money;

others were stuffed to the gills
with ranks,

and their lifestyle became
unhealthy and destructive.

Thus, succession of power was a matter

of life and death for the Empire.

When there is stability in
succession and development,

the country has a future;

without stability collapse.

But the people did not fully
understand this,

and kept demanding various changes.

Opportunists and run-away oligarchs
also played

on these popular moods.

They would usually hide somewhere abroad

and support various intrigues

with the aim of overthrowing
this or that emperor

who did not suit them,

providing for their own man

and new re-assignments of property.

Such an individual was
a certain Bessarion,

a mediocre scholar,
unprincipled politician,

and ingenious intriguer of
the 15th century,

who fled Byzantium for Rome

and received there political asylum.

Bessarion coordinated the entire
opposition in Constantinople

and caused no small headache
to the government.

He went on further to become
a Catholic cardinal.

He bought himself a house in Rome.

After his death, his Western protectors

even named a small street on the edge
of town after him.

Another serious and incurable disease

never before a problem in Byzantium
also developed:

the question of nationality.

The fact of the matter is that
nationality problems in Byzantium

really had not existed for many centuries.

As the historical lawful descendants
of ancient Rome,

which was destroyed by barbarians
in the fifth century,

the inhabitants of Byzantium
called themselves Romans.

In a vast empire divided into
many nationalities,

there was one faith—Orthodox Christianity.

The Byzantines literally fulfilled
the Christian teaching

of a new humanity living
in the Divine Spirit,

where “there is neither Greek,
nor Jew, nor Scythe,”

as the Apostle Paul wrote.

This hope preserved the country

from the destructive storm
of ethnic conflict.

It was enough for any pagan or foreigner

to accept the Orthodox Faith,
and confirm it in deed,

in order to become a full member
of society.

On the Byzantine throne, for example,

were almost as many Armenians
as there were Greeks;

there were also citizens
of Syrian, Arabian,

Slavic, and Germanic origin.

Amongst the higher ranks

of government were representatives

of all peoples in the Empire—

the main requirements were
their competence

and dedication to the Orthodox Faith.

This provided Byzantine civilization

with incomparable cultural wealth.

The only foreign elements for
the Byzantines were people

who were strange to Orthodox morals

and to the ancient Byzantine culture

and perception of the world.

For example, coarse, ignorant,

money-grubbing Western Europeans
of the time

were considered barbarian by the Romans.

Emperor Constantine VII,
“The Purple-born,”

instructed his son when choosing a bride,

“Inasmuch as every nation has
its own traditions,

laws, and customs,

one should unite in matrimony

only with one from
amongst his own people.”

In order to understand
the emperor’s thoughts correctly,

we must recall that his great grandfather
was a Scandinavian

by the name of Inger,

his grandfather was the son
of an Armenian man

and Slavic woman from Macedonia,

his wife was the daughter
of an Armenian man

and a Greek woman,

and his daughter-in-law was the daughter
of an Italian king.

His granddaughter, Anna,

became the wife of
the Russian Prince Vladimir,

just after the latter was baptized.

The very idea of a “nation” was

actually a European concept

which later in Byzantium evolved
into an idea

of their own national superiority,

or more precisely, of that of the Greeks,

around whom Byzantium had grown.

Europeans lived in smaller states
built upon ethnic principles;

for example, France, Germanic countries,

and Italian republics.

National custom was good
and correct for them;

but the fact of the matter was

that Byzantium was not an ethnic state,

but rather a multi-national empire,

and this was an essential difference.

For one hundred years
the Byzantines warred

with this temptation
and did not allow themselves

to be broken.

“We are all Romans—Orthodox citizens
of the New Rome,”

they proclaimed.

It must be noted that all this unfolded

at the very beginning of the epoch called

by historians the “Renaissance”—

the world-wide creation
of a nationalistic,

Hellenic-Greek, pagan ideal.

It was understandably difficult

for the Greeks not to be tempted

by this Western European Renaissance,

and the European fascination

with the culture of their great
ancient Greek ancestors.

The first to give in were
the intelligentsia.

The enlightened Byzantines began
to sense their Greekness.

Nationalistic movements began,

then the denial of Christian traditions,

and finally,
during the reign of Palaeologi,

the imperial ideal gave way to a narrow,

ethnical Greek nationalism.

However this betrayal of
the imperial ideal was costly—

the nationalistic fever tore
the empire apart,

and it was then quickly swallowed up

by the neighboring Moslem empire.

One apologist for Hellenic nationalism,

the liberal scholar Plethon,

arrogantly wrote to Emperor Manuel II,

“We, the people whom you
command and govern,

are Greeks by descent,

as our language
and educational heritage testify.”

Such words would have been unthinkable

even a century earlier.

However, Plethon wrote them

on the eve of the fall of Constantinople,

in which were living people
no longer Roman,

but rather Greeks, Armenians,
Slavs, Arabs, and Italians,

in enmity with one another.

Greek arrogance led to the discrediting

of Slavs in the Empire.

Byzantium thereby estranged
the Serbs and Bulgarians,

who could have provided real help

in the struggle with the Turks.

The result was that the peoples
of the once united Byzantium

began to be at enmity with one another.

The West did not miss the chance

to take advantage of this new problem:

it began to forcefully convince
the Serbs and Bulgarians

that the Greeks had been suppressing

their national identity for centuries.

Several real revolutions were provoked,

and finally, with the help
of economic and military forces,

the West insisted upon the Serbs’

and Bulgarians’ separation from Byzantium

and unification with Latin Europe.

These nationalities took the bait,
exclaiming suddenly,

“We are also Europeans.”

The West promised them
material and military aid,

but of course, deceived them,

instead throwing them cynically
before themselves

as a buffer along the warpath
of the Turkish hordes.

The Balkan states, so loyal to the West,

found themselves under
the cruel Turkish yoke

for many long centuries.

And Byzantium was no longer able to help.

National arrogance thus played
a wicked role for the empire.

Another great problem was
the gradual loss of control

over the far-flung provinces.

The contrast between the provinces

and the satiated, wealthy capital,
Constantinople,

which lived for the most part

at the expense of these
impoverished areas,

became very sharp.

At the beginning of
the thirteenth century,

the Byzantine writer
Micheal Choniates wrote

to the capital’s inhabitants
in bitter reproach,

“Do not all riches flow into the city
as rivers into the sea?

But you do not wish to take a look
at the towns around you,

who await some fairness from you.

You send them one tax collector
after another

with brutish teeth,

in order to devour their last morsels.

You yourselves remain in your city
to enjoy your peace,

and extract the riches.”

Even the capital city’s
chief administrator,

the eparch of Constantinople,

enjoyed a particular status
in the country,

and his contemporaries
often compared his power

with that of the Emperor,

“only without the purple,”
as they would say.

One such eparch once became
so feverishly involved

in the building of high-rise buildings
in the capital

that he could only be stopped

by a special imperial order
forbidding the construction

of buildings over ten stories.

All political, cultural and social life

essentially took place in Constantinople.

The government did not wish to notice

that a serious imbalance was developing,

and the forsaken provinces were becoming

more and more decayed.

Gradually, the tendency to flee
to the center

became increasingly marked.

Governors of these distant territories

also played their deceitful games.

Money budgeted and sent

to the provinces was
shamelessly expropriated.

It would not have been half as bad

if this stolen money had gone
only towards the enrichment

of governors and their proteges.

But the money was often used
to create real armies

under the guise of peace officers.

These battalions were often
more capable in battle

than the regular army.

When the government weakened,
the provinces separated.

The government watched this process unfold
almost helplessly.

But the rebellious governors,

having freed themselves
of central authority,

were no longer to remain captivated
by their own high hopes.

Together with their hapless population,

they almost immediately fell prey
to the cruel authority

of the non-Orthodox.

When this happened,

the local population was usually
destroyed completely,

and the region re-settled
by Turks and Persians.

The demographic problem was one

of the most serious problems in Byzantium.

The Empire was gradually inhabited

by peoples of a foreign spirit,

who firmly supplanted
the native Orthodox population.

The country’s ethnic composition
changed visibly.

This was in some ways
an irreversible process,

for the birth rate in Byzantium
was decreasing.

But this was not the worst thing.

Something similar had earlier
occurred periodically.

The catastrophe was that the peoples

who were pouring into the Empire

were no longer becoming Romans,
as they once had done,

but remained permanently foreign,
aggressive, and enemy.

Now the newcomers treated Byzantium

not as their new homeland,
but only as potential property

which should sooner or later come
into their own hands.

This happened also because
the Empire refused

to educate the people—

a concession it had made to the new,

Renaissance-era demagogy
declaring state ideology

to be a violation of the individual.

However, nature abhors a vacuum.

Having voluntarily renounced

their thousand-year ideological function

of educating and cultivating the people,

the Byzantines made way for influences

upon the minds and souls
of their citizens;

influences which were not
so much a promotion

of independent and free thinking

as they were a form of
intentional ideological aggression,

aimed at destroying the foundations
of state and society.

But the Byzantines had amazing,
incomparable experience.

The best leaders of the Empire
were capable

of using their vast inheritance—

a wealth of experience in
governance and subordination.

As a result of this acumen,
cruel barbarians,

after partaking of
the great Christian culture,

became the most reliable allies,

received grandiose titles
and vast estates,

were numbered amongst the highest ranks

of government service,

and fought for the interests of the Empire

in the furthest stretches
of its territory.

As for demographic issues,

the eternal headache of any empire—

separatism in the outlying areas—

the best Byzantine Emperors left

as an inheritance proven methods
of solving these issues;

for example, creating conditions

for the massive resettlement
of the inhabitants

of centralized areas to
the outlying provinces.

This would quickly spark an explosion
in the birth rate,

and effectuate an
extraordinary adaptability

to the new locality in
the second generation.

However, this wealth of experience
was cruelly mocked

and criminally disregarded in favor
of foreign opinion;

and, finally, it was irretrievably lost.

But just what was this invasive opinion?

Whose views did the Byzantines
begin to value?

Who was able to so influence their minds

that they began to commit
such suicidal mistakes,

one after another?

It's hard to believe that
such enormous reverence

and dependence could have developed

with regard to that same
once barbaric West,

which had for centuries so enviously

and greedily looked upon
Byzantium’s wealth,

and then coldly and
systematically grew fat

upon its gradual dissolution.

Byzantium was a unique state

which differed from both
the East and the West.

Everyone recognized this fact;

some were exhilarated by it,

others hated this independence,

while others felt oppressed by it.

Be this as it may,

Byzantium’s difference from the rest

of world was an objective reality.

First of all, Byzantium was
the only country in the world

which stretched over a huge territory

between Europe and Asia,

and its geography was already
a large contributing factor

to its uniqueness.

It's also a very important fact

that Byzantium was
a multi-national empire by nature,

in which the people felt the state

to be one of their
highest personal treasures.

This was entirely incomprehensible
to the Western world,

where individualism and personal self-will

had already been raised to the status
of sacred principle.

Byzantium’s soul,

and its meaning of existence,
was Orthodoxy—

the unspoiled confession of Christianity,

in which no dogmas had changed essentially

for a thousand years.

The West simply could not endure

such demonstrative conservatism,

called it undynamic, obtuse, and limited;

it finally began with grim fanaticism

to demand that Byzantium
modernize her whole life

in the Western image—

first of all in the religious,
spiritual spheres,

and then in intellectual
and material spheres.

With respect to the uniqueness
and particularity of Byzantium,

the West, despite its occasional raptures

over Byzantine civilization,

pronounced the sentence:
it must all be destroyed;

if necessary, together with Byzantium

and her spiritual inheritors.

Not a bad organ.

Also invented and created in Byzantium.

In the ninth century, it was brought
here to Western Europe,

and from that time on, as you see,
it has taken root.

Of course, it's senseless to say
that the West was to blame

for Byzantium’s misfortunes and fall.

The West was only pursuing
its own interests,

which is quite natural.

Byzantium’s historical blows occurred

when the Byzantines themselves betrayed
their own principles

upon which their empire was established.

These great principles were simple,

and known to every Byzantine
from childhood:

faithfulness to God,

to His eternal laws preserved
in the Orthodox Church,

and fearless reliance

upon their own internal
traditions and strengths.

For hundreds of years,

Byzantine emperors
both wise and not so wise,

successful governors and inept commanders,

saints on the throne and bloody tyrants,

when faced with a fateful choice,

knew that by following these two rules

they ensure their Empire’s ability
to survive.

In the Holy Scriptures,

which every Byzantine knew,
this is stated very specifically:

I call heaven and earth to witness
before you this day:

I have offered you life and death,
blessing and curse.

Choose life, that ye might live,
and your descendants also.

In Byzantium, after the end
of the 13th century,

two parties emerged—

one called for reliance upon
the country’s internal strengths

to believe in them unconditionally,

and to develop the country’s
colossal potential.

It was prepared

to accept Western European experience
discriminately,

after a serious test of time,

but only in those cases

where such changes would not touch
the fundamental basics

of the people’s faith and state politics.

The other party, pro-Western,

whose representatives pointed
to the indubitable fact

that Europe is developing
more rapidly and successfully,

began to proclaim more and more loudly

that Byzantium has historically
exhausted itself

as a political, cultural,
and religious phenomenon,

and to demand a root-level reworking

of all state institutions in the image

of the Western European countries.

Representatives of
the pro-Western party, secretly,

or more often, openly supported
by European governments,

held an undoubted victory over
the imperial traditionalists.

Under their guidance, a series

of important reforms took place,

including those economic,
military, political,

and finally, ideological and religious.

All of these reforms ended
in total collapse,

and lead to such spiritual

and material destruction in the Empire

that it remained absolutely defenseless

before its Eastern neighbor—
the Turkish Sultanate.

First of all, the pro-Western party began

to re-evaluate its fatherland’s history,
culture, and Faith.

However, instead of healthy criticism,

they offered only destructive
self-abnegation.

Everything Western was exulted,

and everything of their own
was held in contempt.

Byzantine history was distorted,

faith and tradition were mocked,
and the army was degraded.

The whole of Byzantium began to be painted

as a sort of universal monster.

The wealthy Byzantine younger generation
no longer studied

in its own country, but rather left
to study abroad.

The best minds of Byzantine science
emigrated to the West.

The state ceased to give them
the proper attention.

Emperor Theodore II foretold,

“Rejected science will become our enemy

and will take up arms against us.

It will either consign us to destruction,

or turn us into barbarians.

I write this in a state of
gloomy melancholy.”

The Emperor’s presentiment
did not deceive him.

During the final, fatal attack
on Constantinople,

a brilliant metal-casting scholar,
a Hungarian named Urban,

offered to create for the Emperor
large artillery armaments

which could sweep away the Turkish troops.

But the treasury was empty,

and the rich of Constantinople
did not give any money.

Not having received payments,

the insulted Urban offered
his services to Sultan Mehmed.

The Sultan seized the opportunity

which would give him the capability

to destroy the city’s invincible walls.

He provided unlimited funds
and began the project.

Finally, the canons of Urban,

the best student of the Byzantine
ballistics school,

decided the Empire’s fate.

Western reforms in the military

along Western lines had begun
long before this.

In Byzantium, there had for
many centuries existed a proven,

although not always effective system
called stratiotes—

a national regular army
with mandatory service

from the age of eighteen.

With time, the Byzantine army
underwent serious changes.

An army of a new type required
significant capital.

The very stabilization fund of Basil II
was earmarked

precisely for the creation of
an effective army.

The fund, as we recall, was squandered,

while decisions were made to
totally re-vamp the army

according the image of
a Western professional one.

At that time,
the Byzantine mind was captivated

by the image of Western knights,

all nailed into suits of armor—

the latest achievement of
contemporary military industry.

“My Byzantines are like clay pots,”

one emperor commented contemptuously
about his warriors,

“but the Western knights are
like iron kettles.”

To be brief, as a result of the reforms,

they took apart their regular army,

but never built a professional one.

In the final analysis,
they took the course

of forming a block with the West
within the framework

of a new military-political union.

In practice this meant that

during the most critical periods of war

they were forced to resort
to a professional army,

but not of their own—to a mercenary one.

What it means to have a mercenary army,

how loyal and capable it is,

the Byzantines learned
from bitter experience.

Attempting to rely on
the West’s experience,

the state became
more and more ineffective.

Even so, they stubbornly sought salvation

in a new imitation of Western examples.

The final and most devastating blow

to Byzantium was the ecclesiastical
union with Rome.

Formally, this was the submission
of the Orthodox Church

to the Roman Pope for
purely practically reasons.

One after another aggressive attack
from foreign nations

forced the country to make the choice:

either to rely on God
and their own strengths,

or to concede their age-long principles

upon which their state was founded,

and receive in return military and
economic aid from Latin West.

And the choice was made.

In 1274,

Emperor Michael Palaeologus decided upon
a root concession

to the West.

For the first time in history,

ambassadors from the Byzantine Emperor
were sent to Lyon

to accept the supremacy
of the Pope of Rome.

As it turned out,

the advantages the Byzantines received

in exchange for their
ideological concession were negligible.

The pro-Western party’s calculations

not only were unjustified, they collapsed.

The union with Rome did not continue
for long.

The Grecophile Pope Leo IV,

who had drawn Byzantium into the Union

out of better intentions,

died soon after the Union was concluded,

and his successor turned out to be

of a completely different spirit:

the interests of the Latin West
were first on his list.

He demanded that Byzantium
change completely,

that it re-make itself in the image
and likeness of the West.

When these changes did not happen,

the Pope excommunicated
his newly-baked spiritual son,

Emperor Michael Palaeologus,

and called Europe to a new crusade
against Byzantium.

The Orthodox converts to Catholicism
were pronounced bad Catholics.

The Byzantines were supposed
to get the point

that the West needed only complete

and unconditional religious
and political submission.

Not only the Pope was to be recognized
as infallible,

but the West itself as well.

Another terrible loss from betrayal
of the Faith was the loss

of trust amongst the people
in the government.

The Byzantines were shocked
by the betrayal

of their highest value—Orthodoxy.

They saw that it was possible
for the government

to play with the most important thing
in life—

the truths of the Faith.

The meaning of the Byzantines’
existence was lost.

This was the final and main blow
which destroyed the country.

And although by far
not all accepted the Union,

the people’s spirit was broken.

In place of their former thirst for life

and energetic resolve to action,

there appeared a terrible
general apathy and fatigue.

The people no longer wanted to live.

This horror has happened during
various periods in history,

with various peoples,
and with entire civilizations.

This is how the ancient
Hellenic people died out,

amongst whom an inexplicable
demographic crisis occurred

during the first centuries of A.D.

People did not want to live;

they did not want to continue
their generation.

The rare families that did form
often had no children.

The children who were born died
from a lack of parental care.

Abortions became common practice.

The darkest occult and Gnostic cults
came aggressively

to the forefront—cults characterized
by hatred for life.

Suicide became one of
the main causes of death

amongst the population.

This conscious dying out of a population
has been called

by science “endogenous psychosis
of the I-III centuries”—

a mass pathology and loss of meaning

for continued existence.

Something similar happened in Byzantium

after the conclusion of the Union.

The crisis in state ideology led
to total pessimism.

Spiritual and moral decline began
to take over,

along with unbelief,
interest in astrology,

and the most primitive superstitions.

Alcoholism became a true scourge
of the male population.

A morbid interest in
long-forgotten mysteries

of the ancient Greeks arose.

An intelligentsia fascinated
with neo-paganism

consciously and cynically destroyed
the foundations

of Christian Faith in the people.

Processes of depopulation
and family crises ensued.

Out of the 150 Byzantine intellectuals
known to us

to have lived during the late 14th,
early 15th centuries,

only twenty-five had families
of their own.

This is only a small part of
what came to Byzantium

due to the decision amongst the elite

to sacrifice higher ideals for the sake
of practical advantages.

The soul collapsed;

in a great nation,

who had given the world
grandiose examples

of flights of spirit,

now reigned unbridled
cynicism and squabbles.

One Russian pilgrim wrote bitterly

during the mid-14th century,

“Greeks are those who have no love.”

The best minds of Byzantium
watched with sorrow

as the Empire gradually died,

but no one heeded their warnings.

The high profile statesman,
Theodore Metochites,

who saw no salvation for Byzantium,

wept over the former greatness
of the “Romans”

and their “perished happiness.”

He lamented the Empire
“wasted by illnesses,

easily succumbing to every attack
by its neighbors,

and become the helpless victim
of fate and eventuality.”

A new Union signed in Florence,

in what was now a completely mad hope

for help from the West,
did not change a thing.

For the Byzantines themselves

this was a new moral blow
of great magnitude.

Now, not only the Emperor,

but even the Holy Patriarch shared
the faith of the Latins.

However, despite various
hierarchs’ betrayals,

the Orthodox Church stood firm.

“All were against the Union,”
a Byzantine historian relates.

“O, piteous Romans.”

monk Gennadios Scholarios
wrote prophetically

from his reclusion after the signing

of the Florentine Union,

and fourteen years before the fall
of Constantinople.

“Why have you gone astray
from the right path?

You have departed from hope in God

and begun to hope in the might
of the Franks.

Together with the city,

in which everything will
soon be destroyed,

have you apostatized from your piety?

Be merciful to me, O Lord.

I witness before the face of God
that I am not guilty of this.

Return, wretched citizens,

and think about what you are doing.

Together with the captivity which
will soon befall us,

you have apostatized from
your fathers’ inheritance

and begun to confess dishonor.

Woe to you, when God’s judgment
shall come upon you.”

The words of Gennadios Scholarios
came true to the letter.

And he himself was to carry
the unbearably heavy cross

of a bitter patriarchate—

he became the first Orthodox patriarch
in Constantinople

after its fall to the Turks.

The fatal year of 1453 was approaching.

In April, Sultan Mehmed,

still a very young man of twenty-one,

about the age of a college sophomore
in today’s Istanbul,

attacked Constantinople.

The Sultan was absolutely delirious
with the idea

of taking the Romans’ capital.

His elder councilors-viziers,

one of whom was a secret agent
from Byzantium,

persuaded him to cancel the attack,

saying that it was too dangerous
to battle on two fronts,

for all were certain that battalions

from Genoa and Venice would
arrive any minute.

But the Sultan turned out to be
a disobedient pupil.

The promised help from Europe,
of course, did not arrive.

To the party of Westernizers
in Constantinople

there was also added a pro-Turkish party.

Sad as it may be, there was
no true Byzantine-imperial party

amongst the politicians.

The Turkish party was headed
by the first minister

and admiral, Grand Duke Notaras.

He announced for all to hear that

“It would be better to see
the Turkish chalma cap ruling

in the city than the Latin tiara.”

A little later he, the first minister,

was to fully experience

just what this ruling Turkish chalma cap
was actually like.

When Sultan Mehmed II took the city,

amidst the general pillage
and wild mayhem,

he decided to appoint this very Notaras
as head of the city.

However, when he learned that

the Grand Duke had a fourteen-year-old son
of rare beauty,

he demanded that the son be
first surrendered

to his harem of boys.

When the shaken Notaras refused,

the Sultan commanded that both he

and the boy be beheaded.

The terrible outcome was
unfolding inescapably.

O Heavenly King, Comforter,
Spirit of Truth,

Who art everywhere present
and fillest all things,

treasury of good gifts and Giver of life,

come and abide in us,
and cleanse us of all impurity,

and save our souls, O Good One.

May 29, 1453,

after a siege lasting many months
and resisted heroically

by the city’s defense forces,

the Turks were able to break
through the upper wall.

The defense forces, frightened,
turned to flight.

The last Byzantine Emperor,

Constantine Palaeologus, remained alone,
abandoned by all.

Holding his sword and shield,
the Emperor exclaimed,

“Is there not a Christian who
might take off my head?”

But there was no one to answer.

The enemies surrounded him,
and after a brief siege,

the Turks standing behind the sovereign
killed him

with a knife in the back.

What more is there to say?

Now a completely different people
are living here,

with different laws and morals.

The Byzantine inheritance,
foreign to the invaders,

was either destroyed
or altered at the root.

The descendants of those Greeks

who were not destroyed by the conquerors
were made

into second class citizens
in their own land,

with no rights, for many long centuries.

The West’s vengeful hatred of Byzantium
and her successors is

entirely inexplicable to the West itself;

it goes to some deep genetic level,

and—as paradoxically as this may seem—

continues even to the present day.

Without an understanding of this amazing
but undeniable fact,

we risk misunderstanding
not only distant history,

but even historical events
of the twentieth

and twenty-first centuries.

In Russia, before the revolution,

serious research on Byzantium
was conducted.

However, the necessary conclusions
were not drawn

from purely theoretical knowledge.

During the first decades
of Soviet government,

research in Byzantology was cut off,

and then officially banned.

More than that: just in case,
the Bolsheviks repressed

all Byzantologists remaining in Russia;

only a few were able to flee abroad.

Research in Byzantology was re-opened
in Russia

by a decision from
the highest government levels.

In 1943, at Stalin’s orders,

the Institute of Byzantology was created,

and a corresponding department

in the Moscow State University was opened.

Was there no other time than 1943
to open such an institute?

It is simply that the former seminarian,

Joseph Dzhugashvili, finally understood

from whom they should be studying history.

And the great city of Constantinople,

which had oft times forgotten
the ancient laws of its fathers,

for which forgetfulness it
did not even preserve its own name,

performs if only its final service
as an instructor,

to retell the story of its greatness—

and of the monumental fall
of a great empire.