Hashasheen
Banned
as stated above, props if there is jewish indians (native americans) and a version of the American Revolution
AH Challenge: create a jewish new world.
- Thread starter Hashasheen
- Start date
Fresh from the Khazar thread: Khazar influence spreads to Mongolia, where a number of tribes convert. Among them is a man from the Naiman tribe, known in OTL as Kuchlug, but in ITTL as Solomon. He leads the Mongolian (or maybe Naimannian ITTL) tribes on a massive conquest, of China, Persia, and all of Europe. Everywhere he gives the population of cities two choices: embrace Judaism, or be slaughtered and enslaved. Kuchlug actually did this in OTL, only it was against Muslims and their choices were Nestorianism or Buddhism.
After hundreds of millions of deaths and several centuries' time, the Mongol empire completely collapses. The successor states in Europe (all Jewish) recover their population enough to start colonization (by the 1700 at latest). Thus all the colonists are Jewish, and the religion filters to the New World.
Obviously England, Spain, and Scandinavia aren't Jewish, but let's say central authority in those areas collapsed and they don't colonize.
After hundreds of millions of deaths and several centuries' time, the Mongol empire completely collapses. The successor states in Europe (all Jewish) recover their population enough to start colonization (by the 1700 at latest). Thus all the colonists are Jewish, and the religion filters to the New World.
Obviously England, Spain, and Scandinavia aren't Jewish, but let's say central authority in those areas collapsed and they don't colonize.
I developed one surrounding in a Biblical TL. Sometime after Jesus' resurrection and ascension, instead of drawing a name out of a hat for the disciples to replace Judas Iscariot and finding Matthias as their new Apostle, they vote.
Down the line, the Church is established on a basis of democracy as per the Acts of the Apostles. Reaching the age of 21 and a tithe payer, adult males can register at their local church and elect Deacons (who control regions of the Roman Empire) for three years of service, and Popes who reign for life. The Roman government becomes so corrupt by the time the Huns arrive that the Catholic church takes over, denouncing the Emperor as weak and inefficient and takes the problem into his own hands. The Popes manage to beat back the Huns, assimilate and/or destroy the invading Germans, and keep the Emperor only as a figure head as the true power remains with the Church.
Pope Martin VI (OTL's Martin Luther) comes to power in the early 1500s and takes charge denouncing the Jews (on the brighter side cleaning up corruption in the church). His anti-semetic policy gradually gets lighter as people come to him pleading for mercy. Finally, he announces a mass "concentration and ejection" policy. Basically a reversal of the diaspora in Hispania and then sending them off into the new continent discovered by Spanish explorers recently. While the Romans call it "Nova Roma," the Jews call it "Tel Aviv," or "City on a Hill."
Down the line, the Church is established on a basis of democracy as per the Acts of the Apostles. Reaching the age of 21 and a tithe payer, adult males can register at their local church and elect Deacons (who control regions of the Roman Empire) for three years of service, and Popes who reign for life. The Roman government becomes so corrupt by the time the Huns arrive that the Catholic church takes over, denouncing the Emperor as weak and inefficient and takes the problem into his own hands. The Popes manage to beat back the Huns, assimilate and/or destroy the invading Germans, and keep the Emperor only as a figure head as the true power remains with the Church.
Pope Martin VI (OTL's Martin Luther) comes to power in the early 1500s and takes charge denouncing the Jews (on the brighter side cleaning up corruption in the church). His anti-semetic policy gradually gets lighter as people come to him pleading for mercy. Finally, he announces a mass "concentration and ejection" policy. Basically a reversal of the diaspora in Hispania and then sending them off into the new continent discovered by Spanish explorers recently. While the Romans call it "Nova Roma," the Jews call it "Tel Aviv," or "City on a Hill."
Hashasheen
Banned
bump!!!!!!!
no one interested? my idea was that increasing anti-semitism lured more jews than christains to the new world, and with their leaving, their jobs were swooped up by the christains
no one interested? my idea was that increasing anti-semitism lured more jews than christains to the new world, and with their leaving, their jobs were swooped up by the christains
Nuevo Leon, which was founded by crypto-Jews, becomes a safe haven for Jews fleeing persecution from Iberia and other parts of Europe. After 150 years (1700) the population of Nuevo Leon is great enough, and their economy strong enough, that they can afford to create a state with a functioning army and break away from Spain, which is reeling from the loss of the Armada and the growing strength of Britain. Nuevo Leon, now Nuevo Judea, becomes the world's first Jewish state since the collapse of the Khazar Empire.
Not OTL America, but Albion in my TL is developing a significantly larger Jewish population in the early-mid 19th Century.
In my opinion, the most likely explanation for this ATL would be quite simple: Judaism had replaced Christianity in conquering the pagan souls of the Roman Empire.
That would mean a failure of Christianity in imposing itself in the West, and a Jewish religion more open to the conversion of Goiim.
Then the whole history of the West would be different, and the New World would follow the trend...
That would mean a failure of Christianity in imposing itself in the West, and a Jewish religion more open to the conversion of Goiim.
Then the whole history of the West would be different, and the New World would follow the trend...
Exactly how simple? I'm not sure you're aware how difficult it is to convert to Judaism. Especially an entire Empire that regards the idea of a single god radical. The only reason they accepted Catholicism was because they had the many Saints as "replacement gods" that they could pray to. The transition from Roman paganism to Catholicism wasn't so radical in the ancient Roman's eyes.
Have the Muslims win the Battle of Tours. All of Europe becomes Muslim. When the Mongols ravage Europe via Asia, the Muslims fight back while the Christians and Jews take this as their chance to escape to the New World.
No need to be such Islamo-pessimistic. Arab victory over the Franks at Tours was definitely within the bound of possibility back then especially if they managed to get Charles Martel killed. The rise of Asturias could have been prevented or annihilated as well.
What incentive would the Muslims have had to explore the new world before the Mongols came?
An "Islamo-pessimistic"? If it wasn't in the bound of possibility I wouldn't have put it down as a plausible Jewish new world vector. Faster routes to the east. Drive for knowledge. Rumors and a quest for glory. Any of those could've worked.
A several-month ship voyage that is faster than traveling by land through [usually] friendly territory?
No one had ever gone that far west in a ship before. How were they supposed to know how long it would take to reach China? That and the butterflies could take hold and that "friendly territory" could turn unfriendly fast. An Islam-wank Empire could see that the Meccan way is the only way to go and decide to attack the Indians. India unites into a Hindu Empire and puts up more resistance than is worth it.
Mongols always hated the Muslims. They could use subversive Christians to act as terrorists, rotting the Islamic Empire from within while working with the Indians to the south. With Christians, Hindus, Muslims, and Mongols destroying each other, either through scientific study taken by a rich Muslim Astronomer, or a Merchant seeking a way weat to China, the New World would've been discovered. Since the Jews are basically stuck in the middle of the conflict, they decide to turn tail and make it to the New World themselves, eventually outnumbering any of the colonists there.
Mongols always hated the Muslims. They could use subversive Christians to act as terrorists, rotting the Islamic Empire from within while working with the Indians to the south. With Christians, Hindus, Muslims, and Mongols destroying each other, either through scientific study taken by a rich Muslim Astronomer, or a Merchant seeking a way weat to China, the New World would've been discovered. Since the Jews are basically stuck in the middle of the conflict, they decide to turn tail and make it to the New World themselves, eventually outnumbering any of the colonists there.
I've misunderstood you. I thought you were being sarcastic by mentioning Islam conquered all of Europe before the Mongols comes.....
On second thought, you might well be right. A Christian friend of mine is thinking about doing his Phd on the relationship between Roman Stoicism and the advent of Christianity.
I do not see why Judaism could not adapt in a way that might be suitable to Roman citizens, though. As far as the issue of conversion is concerned, I think that if the occasion had arisen, Judaism could have been a likely candidate to replace Christianity in the West. That is, only if Christianity had been unsuccessful.
About the saints, I believe that they entail a similar kind of adaptation. I am not sure that the earliest form of Christianity placed any emphasis on saints. Saints were a natural, historical and progressive adaptation to a world that was previously polytheistic. For the time being, I tend to think that Judaism could have adapted exactly in the same way. The problem, of course, is that Judaism is originally the religion of a people, and most Jews had no desire to convert others. However, one of them seemed to share a different opinion, and he was called Jesus. If you consider that Christianity is a transformation of earlier Judaism (which some Christians readily admit), then this scenario is not even ATL. It is OTL.
Maybe an inquisition-style purging of Jews by the Habsburg emperors in the early 16th century could set an exodus in motion. Jewish financiers would back a voyage to the North-Eastern coastal regions of North America which lie far outside of the Habsurg sphere of influence. In this isolated region that would be pretty much left alone for much of the 16th century and would be able to found dozens of permenant settlements before the English arrived in any great numbers.
The colony of Virginia would still be founded, but the English would find themselves sandwiched between the Spanish South and a Yiddish-speaking North. I think the English would have favoured expansion in the North rather than fight the Spanish and have a war in both Europe and North America. The Jewish colonies would certainly struggle to resist the English, especially without any allies in Europe. As so often happens in Jewish history, the Jews would be forced into a nomadic existence and would probably be pushed further and further West by the British and French. They would most likely be forced to settle along the Northern Pacific coast in Alaska and the Yukon where they would have some temporary peace.
By the Victorian era, Jewish financiers become highly influential in British imperialism. As a result, Britain is not hostile to the Jewish colonies and their isolated civilisation is free to flourish.
The colony of Virginia would still be founded, but the English would find themselves sandwiched between the Spanish South and a Yiddish-speaking North. I think the English would have favoured expansion in the North rather than fight the Spanish and have a war in both Europe and North America. The Jewish colonies would certainly struggle to resist the English, especially without any allies in Europe. As so often happens in Jewish history, the Jews would be forced into a nomadic existence and would probably be pushed further and further West by the British and French. They would most likely be forced to settle along the Northern Pacific coast in Alaska and the Yukon where they would have some temporary peace.
By the Victorian era, Jewish financiers become highly influential in British imperialism. As a result, Britain is not hostile to the Jewish colonies and their isolated civilisation is free to flourish.
I've misunderstood you. I thought you were being sarcastic by mentioning Islam conquered all of Europe before the Mongols comes.....
Hah. Not quite. The victory I would be referring to would be a Mongol-style trampling of the Pope by Islamic horsmen and then crossing towards Anatolia from the west and connecting back into Arabia from the north making the Mediterannean an Islamic lake.
1 Elul, 5768 Anno Mundi
Solomon's City [New York City], United Kingdom of Davidsland
The countdown to the New Year has begun in Solomon’s City. All over the metropolis, masses of humanity converge on the markets to jump start their preparation for the High Holy Days.
They come from all over the world and speak every tongue. Though every effort has been expended by every Lord Mayor since the legendary administration of Abraham Hasdai (“Old Father Abraham”, as the history scrolls fondly call him) to force the diffusion of Ladino as the city's only used language, the city’s history as the focal point for the United Kingdom of Davidsland has methodically undermined that policy for almost three centuries.
Pushing through these crowds in the narrow passageways of the Waknin Marketplace (the oldest such establishment in Solomon’s City, founded soon after the purchase of the island from the natives by the Royal Livorno Company), Julian Melekh, Guardsman of the City, Officer of the Kingdom, Preserver of Public Morals, barely notices the features of the locale that once inspired the originators of the Humanist Movement—the merchants hawking their promises of a real genuine not-to-be-missed bargain, old women gossiping in none too subtle tones, exhausted mothers struggling to hold onto their children while they haggle for a better price, and the nose-numbing mingling of spices from the furthest corners of the world—a tall man with a curved nose, thin beard, and aloof black eyes, Julian bears himself with all the dignity and graces that should be expected from the oldest continuous law enforcement organization in the New World.
Pacing slowly in his forest green peaked cap, pine green tunic, and dark gold trousers completed with a set of well used black boots, Julian, bored since the start of his rounds, scans for trouble—anything to liven up his daily routine. It could always be worse he thinks to himself. Imagine the poor bastards who got selected to patrol the Gardens. On this hot and humid day, walking through an indoor market with circulated air wasn't the worst place to be, by far.
Walking past the stand of an especially loud fishmonger, he gives a glare to an old man slumped against a nearby pillar, begging for alms.
Would it trouble him to read the posted regulations? fumes Julian inwardly. But a glimpse at the ragged man’s stump of a leg gives him pause.
A veteran. The men who had given up the best years of their lives to serve the Almighty and the King in the Dahai War always had place of respect in Julian's heart; his father’s stories of the desperate, annihilating battles in East Asia had motivated him to give his own life to public service. Despite receiving the humiliation after applying to be trained at Fort Joshua (his asthma had done him in during the physical), his love for anything to do with the military had never dimmed.
“Alms for a Legionnaire?” begs the ragged man to Julian. His white hair hangs in fragile wisps aside his scarred face. It’s a face that tells the world everything—of lost comrades, of bland army meals over cooking fires everywhere from the gates of the Citadel Bay to Outer Manchuria, and of the mockery that bloodshed makes of the staunchest patriot.
“More than that, avi,” says Julian to the former Legionnaire. He takes out his large black Contactor and pushes the tan button; for an ordinary drunk or panhandler, he calls for a Jailor’s Wagon. For a broken veteran who reminds him so much of his own father, he’ll always call the Tzedakah Center; technically, they exist for anyone who’s down on their luck, but the only street people Julian ever asks for them to pick up are veterans. “A warm bed and a hearty meal are waiting for you.”
“Thank the Lord!” croaks the veteran. “Bless you, Guardsman!”
Before Julian can reply, he hears a loud argument break out two stalls down. “Swindler! Idolating bitch! I’d sooner worship Baal than pay that price!”
Such outbursts are to be expected in any market in the realms of Jewry, from the United Kingdom to distant Biafra. What attracts Julian’s attention is the nature of the man doing most of the shouting (with his vitriol aimed at the daughter of a Sephardic trading family). The man is a short, dark skinned, tickly bearded man wearing a bright green turban bordered with a fine gold silken trim. The colors match his flowing robes perfectly. The outfit is rounded out with a gold scimitar. Only slight variations would be needed to turn the angry man into a caricature of one of the famous characters from the pirate novels of Isaac Sasson.
Damnation! A Himyar captain! Every man with a ship considers himself a prince in the ancient realms of the Himyar Empire, coupled with the appropriate egos and wealth to prove the point.
Stepping away from the veteran (the Tzedakah people will come to help him shortly), Julian draws his short black club and straightens himself to his full height. Striding in the same fashion as a Khazar Knight preparing to accept his commission, he approaches the stand.
“Is there a problem, good sir?”
The young woman (and the thin, nervous man who must be her father) behind the metal counter shrinks back slightly. “Only that this fucking bitch has tried to pass off that sewer rat fur as pte hide!” thunders the Himyar captain in his sing-song Ladino. A small crowd has gathered to watch the confrontation, more curious to see such an exotic foreigner than anything else. “I demand that you drive this, this foul clan from the market immediately! They stink of fraud!”
Julian looks at the apparently infamous fur in question. Being no expert in the field of Natural Studies, he has no idea what the thick, brown fur coat is. Odds are that it probably did come from the ubiquitous Plains Cow. He knows, of course, that no family applying to sell furs in a public marketplace would be stupid enough to risk the wrath of the authorities by selling a product made from the most hated of vermin.
Julian has no patience for anyone with an (overtly) aristocratic attitude, much less a wealthy scion of ancient Himyar. “I suggest that you move on,” he tells the captain tersely, stepping forward. “Causing a disturbance in a place of public enterprise is punishable by a heavy fine.” The Himyar captain’s face turns a rather nasty shade of purple at Julian’s pronouncement. The foreigner’s rather hapless looking manservant flinches.
“Gehenna take you!” bellows the captain, who has enough self control left to saying something truly regrettable to a Guardsman. He gestures to his servant, and angrily pushes past Julian, walking quickly in the direction of one of the exits. The crowd disperses back towards its original activities, its curiosity sated for now.
Julian nods to the Sephardic woman (a pretty young thing with protuberant brown eyes and raven black hair), and turns in the direction of his veteran. He sees the old warrior being assisted towards the exit by to Tzedakah volunteers, wearing their austere brown robes.
Satisfied at his upholding of the law and morals of this part of the market, Julian Melekh walks in the direction of the Square of the Beloved, the nucleus of the market. Looking at the leather bound timer bound to his right wrist, he sees that he has only twenty minutes until the end of his shift, and he could use one of the dishes that are served at Barak’s. He’s heard very good things about their Gondar Surprise...
~~~~~
Comments?
Solomon's City [New York City], United Kingdom of Davidsland
The countdown to the New Year has begun in Solomon’s City. All over the metropolis, masses of humanity converge on the markets to jump start their preparation for the High Holy Days.
They come from all over the world and speak every tongue. Though every effort has been expended by every Lord Mayor since the legendary administration of Abraham Hasdai (“Old Father Abraham”, as the history scrolls fondly call him) to force the diffusion of Ladino as the city's only used language, the city’s history as the focal point for the United Kingdom of Davidsland has methodically undermined that policy for almost three centuries.
Pushing through these crowds in the narrow passageways of the Waknin Marketplace (the oldest such establishment in Solomon’s City, founded soon after the purchase of the island from the natives by the Royal Livorno Company), Julian Melekh, Guardsman of the City, Officer of the Kingdom, Preserver of Public Morals, barely notices the features of the locale that once inspired the originators of the Humanist Movement—the merchants hawking their promises of a real genuine not-to-be-missed bargain, old women gossiping in none too subtle tones, exhausted mothers struggling to hold onto their children while they haggle for a better price, and the nose-numbing mingling of spices from the furthest corners of the world—a tall man with a curved nose, thin beard, and aloof black eyes, Julian bears himself with all the dignity and graces that should be expected from the oldest continuous law enforcement organization in the New World.
Pacing slowly in his forest green peaked cap, pine green tunic, and dark gold trousers completed with a set of well used black boots, Julian, bored since the start of his rounds, scans for trouble—anything to liven up his daily routine. It could always be worse he thinks to himself. Imagine the poor bastards who got selected to patrol the Gardens. On this hot and humid day, walking through an indoor market with circulated air wasn't the worst place to be, by far.
Walking past the stand of an especially loud fishmonger, he gives a glare to an old man slumped against a nearby pillar, begging for alms.
Would it trouble him to read the posted regulations? fumes Julian inwardly. But a glimpse at the ragged man’s stump of a leg gives him pause.
A veteran. The men who had given up the best years of their lives to serve the Almighty and the King in the Dahai War always had place of respect in Julian's heart; his father’s stories of the desperate, annihilating battles in East Asia had motivated him to give his own life to public service. Despite receiving the humiliation after applying to be trained at Fort Joshua (his asthma had done him in during the physical), his love for anything to do with the military had never dimmed.
“Alms for a Legionnaire?” begs the ragged man to Julian. His white hair hangs in fragile wisps aside his scarred face. It’s a face that tells the world everything—of lost comrades, of bland army meals over cooking fires everywhere from the gates of the Citadel Bay to Outer Manchuria, and of the mockery that bloodshed makes of the staunchest patriot.
“More than that, avi,” says Julian to the former Legionnaire. He takes out his large black Contactor and pushes the tan button; for an ordinary drunk or panhandler, he calls for a Jailor’s Wagon. For a broken veteran who reminds him so much of his own father, he’ll always call the Tzedakah Center; technically, they exist for anyone who’s down on their luck, but the only street people Julian ever asks for them to pick up are veterans. “A warm bed and a hearty meal are waiting for you.”
“Thank the Lord!” croaks the veteran. “Bless you, Guardsman!”
Before Julian can reply, he hears a loud argument break out two stalls down. “Swindler! Idolating bitch! I’d sooner worship Baal than pay that price!”
Such outbursts are to be expected in any market in the realms of Jewry, from the United Kingdom to distant Biafra. What attracts Julian’s attention is the nature of the man doing most of the shouting (with his vitriol aimed at the daughter of a Sephardic trading family). The man is a short, dark skinned, tickly bearded man wearing a bright green turban bordered with a fine gold silken trim. The colors match his flowing robes perfectly. The outfit is rounded out with a gold scimitar. Only slight variations would be needed to turn the angry man into a caricature of one of the famous characters from the pirate novels of Isaac Sasson.
Damnation! A Himyar captain! Every man with a ship considers himself a prince in the ancient realms of the Himyar Empire, coupled with the appropriate egos and wealth to prove the point.
Stepping away from the veteran (the Tzedakah people will come to help him shortly), Julian draws his short black club and straightens himself to his full height. Striding in the same fashion as a Khazar Knight preparing to accept his commission, he approaches the stand.
“Is there a problem, good sir?”
The young woman (and the thin, nervous man who must be her father) behind the metal counter shrinks back slightly. “Only that this fucking bitch has tried to pass off that sewer rat fur as pte hide!” thunders the Himyar captain in his sing-song Ladino. A small crowd has gathered to watch the confrontation, more curious to see such an exotic foreigner than anything else. “I demand that you drive this, this foul clan from the market immediately! They stink of fraud!”
Julian looks at the apparently infamous fur in question. Being no expert in the field of Natural Studies, he has no idea what the thick, brown fur coat is. Odds are that it probably did come from the ubiquitous Plains Cow. He knows, of course, that no family applying to sell furs in a public marketplace would be stupid enough to risk the wrath of the authorities by selling a product made from the most hated of vermin.
Julian has no patience for anyone with an (overtly) aristocratic attitude, much less a wealthy scion of ancient Himyar. “I suggest that you move on,” he tells the captain tersely, stepping forward. “Causing a disturbance in a place of public enterprise is punishable by a heavy fine.” The Himyar captain’s face turns a rather nasty shade of purple at Julian’s pronouncement. The foreigner’s rather hapless looking manservant flinches.
“Gehenna take you!” bellows the captain, who has enough self control left to saying something truly regrettable to a Guardsman. He gestures to his servant, and angrily pushes past Julian, walking quickly in the direction of one of the exits. The crowd disperses back towards its original activities, its curiosity sated for now.
Julian nods to the Sephardic woman (a pretty young thing with protuberant brown eyes and raven black hair), and turns in the direction of his veteran. He sees the old warrior being assisted towards the exit by to Tzedakah volunteers, wearing their austere brown robes.
Satisfied at his upholding of the law and morals of this part of the market, Julian Melekh walks in the direction of the Square of the Beloved, the nucleus of the market. Looking at the leather bound timer bound to his right wrist, he sees that he has only twenty minutes until the end of his shift, and he could use one of the dishes that are served at Barak’s. He’s heard very good things about their Gondar Surprise...
~~~~~
Comments?
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