Tsar Simeon I of Bulgaria. The most successful ruler of Bulgaria, who brought it to its greatest extent.
He did it largely by observing the Byzantines and beating them at their own game. Thread.
Simeon was born the same year his father, Tsar Boris, converted Bulgaria to Christianity. Simeon was a younger son, intended for the priesthood, so he was sent to Constantinople as a youth to study theology—he was raised in the Church.
Boris retired to become a monk, leaving the throne to Vladimir, his first-born. The new tsar tried to return the empire to the old religion though, so Boris came out of retirement to remove Vladimir and crown Simeon instead.
The year was 893. Bulgaria had been at peace with Byzantium for several decades and was under its cultural sway. Bulgarian merchants brought goods back from Constantinople and Byzantine priests taught Bulgarians the new religion.
Most important, Tsar Simeon had been raised in Constantinople and was shaped by Byzantine culture. It would guide him in the coming years.
In 894, perhaps fearing Bulgaria’s growing cultural, economic, and military power, Byzantine emperor Leo VI declared that Bulgarian merchants could no longer trade at Constantinople; henceforth they could only go through Thessalonica.
This cut into the Bulgarian crown’s revenues and was a slap in the face to Simeon. Enraged, the tsar declared war and invaded:
Leo was occupied in the east at the time, so he hired the Magyars living north of the Danube to attack Bulgaria. They were effective, but Simeon soon beat the Byzantines anyway and forced a favorable peace.
What is interesting is how Simeon handled the Magyars.
Bulgaria had inherited the problems of Byzantium’s Danube provinces. They were constantly threatened by nomadic peoples migrating across the steppe, most recently Leo’s Magyar allies. In response, Simeon developed a typically Byzantine solution…
Simeon’s forces had been worsted by the Magyars during his war with Leo, so rather than try to fight them alone, he hired another, more distant steppe people: the Pechenegs.
The Pechenegs had previously been Byzantine allies, used to fight the Magyars and Rus. This was how Constantinople often dealt with new threats from the steppe, paying others to fight for them, rather than conduct an even more costly campaign themselves.
Simeon was successful on the cultural front too. He established a literary school at Preslav, the new capital of Christian Bulgaria, to encourage Slavonic literature in imitation of Greek models.
That was where the Cyrillic script was adopted for the first time (replacing the older Glagolithic), imitating the cursive Byzantine script.
But in 913, Bulgaria and Byzantium were back at war. The new emperor had refused to pay tribute, so Simeon invaded, appearing in strength before Constantinople. He got the patriarch to crown him Emperor of the Bulgarians, placing him on equal footing with the Byzantine emperor.
After a palace coup, though, the Byzantines renewed the war. Simeon’s forces were victorious and made large gains in Macedonia, the western Balkans, and eastern Thrace.
Simeon ultimately wanted to conquer Constantinople and become Emperor of the Romans, merging the two realms. But the walls were too strong, and he was unable to form an alliance with the Arabs for naval support.
Simeon died in 927 and his son Peter inherited the throne. Peter made peace with Byzantium in return for very important concessions. First was the recognition of the title Emperor of Bulgaria, putting him on an equal footing with the Byzantine emperor Romanus.
Second was the hand of Romanus I’s granddaughter, which opened up the possibility of a future claim on the Byzantine throne. Finally, the Byzantines recognized an independent patriarch of the Bulgarian church, giving it an equal status to that of Constantinople.
Bulgaria now had an emperor, a patriarch, and growing cultural prestige. The state was rich, powerful, and large. Although Bulgarian tsars would never become Emperor of the Romans, they were true rivals to Byzantium thanks to the efforts of Simeon.
In a way, Simeon was like Ataturk or Meiji, who adopted western ways in order to fight the West. In the the Bulgarians’ case, they adopted much of Byzantine culture wholesale in order to stand up to its greatest rival as an equal.
This golden age only lasted a short time, and less than a hundred years later Basil II would swallow Bulgaria whole. But Simeon's achievement ensured the permanence of Bulgarian culture, which endured even two centuries of Byzantine rule.
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Ottoman borders in the 15th century looked a lot like Byzantium during its ascent: for similar geographic reasons they faced an ongoing state of war along their eastern frontier. But once they turned their full attention to the problem, they solved it much more dramatically.🧵
Anatolia was the Ottomans’ base of power, where they welded together the Turkic beyliks that formed in the wake of Byzantine retreat. This was a gradual process, and by the 15th c. several retained varying degrees of independence.
One of these was the Karamanids in southern Anatolia, who often tried to expand this during periods of Ottoman weakness or disunity. One of these attempts came in 1444, when the so-called Crusade of Varna was attacking their Balkan possessions.
Quotes are from a superb pair of essays by @Scholars_Stage, Luttwak's book on Byzantium gives a similar misreading of their strategic culture (but cast in a positive light). In truth, the Byzantines were very eager to fight, diplomacy and bribes were only used as stop-gaps when occupied on another front, and the caution advised by their military manuals was tactical and operational—not strategic.
@Scholars_Stage On the first point, it was a matter of simple geography. They campaigned aggressively whenever threatened, but their two primary theaters were separated by an enormous distance.
The caution urged on frontier commanders by the manuals (e.g. On Skirmishing) has to be interpreted in light of the larger strategic picture. Prematurely forcing a battle risked leaving all of Anatolia exposed before the imperial army could mobilize.
When the Seljuks arrived in the Middle East, they played a very similar role to the Franks in Dark Age Europe: protectors of an enfeebled religious authority and the enforcers of orthodoxy.🧵
The Franks who expanded into Gaul in the 6th century were unique among the barbarian kingdoms of Western Europe. Their king Clovis converted to Nicene Christianity, aligning himself with the surviving elite of the post-Roman West.
This stood in contrast to the Visigoths of Spain, Burgundians of southeast Gaul, Ostrogoths of Italy, and Vandals of North Africa, all of whom practiced Arianism and remained aloof of their subject populations.
It took a decade for a 17th-century financial crisis to travel from Spain to China.
The Spanish Crown suffered a pair of fiscal disasters in 1627-28 which eventually forced it to cut silver exports to the Far East, hammering a Ming China already teetering on the precipice.
The flood of New World silver into Asian markets in the 1500s crushed the value of metal currency, but also supercharged trade as new markets were opened for exports. The effect was the same from Syria to China.
To start with, one thing he gets right is that the classical Greeks deprecated the value of individual skill at arms—if anything, that would detract from their willingness to hold the line. Here’s a wonderful passage from the Spartan poet Tyrtaeus, who is mentioned:
Maintaining formation—παρ᾿ ἀλλήλοισι μένοντες—is seen as the chief martial virtue. So how did they learn to do it?
Let’s look at the quote from Laches. Nicias suggests that young men should prepare for war by training at arms.
Easy to underestimate how thorough the breakdown of a centralized system can be. To put it in modern perspective, here's what it takes just to get the right 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 for the lasers in lithography machines used to etch the most advanced microchips (from "Chip War")...
That's a staggering amount of material, intellectual, and economic infrastructure required just to sustain one part of a very complicated process. Sustaining that infrastructure depends in turn on maintaining the process. If any one of several highly-centralized nodes is disrupted for any length of time, it becomes disproportionately more expensive and difficult to get it back online.
Systems are resilient and can recover from freak catastrophes. But anything that is likely to majorly disrupt one node is bound to introduce many other complications. Just as a hypothetical: a war over Taiwan that takes out TSMC, which manufactures 90% of advanced chips...