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 Je n n i f e r B a l l

women,
development
and
peacebuilding
in africa

S T O R I E S F RO M U G A N DA
Women, Development and Peacebuilding
in Africa
Credit for the map goes to Keith Miller
 Jennifer Ball

Women, Development
and Peacebuilding
in Africa
Stories from Uganda
Jennifer Ball
Peace and Conflict Studies
Conrad Grebel University College
Waterloo, ON, Canada

ISBN 978-3-319-97948-9 ISBN 978-3-319-97949-6 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-97949-6

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018950729

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2019
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
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Cover image: © Dominic Lukandwa

Cover design: Fatima Jamadar

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Switzerland AG
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 Acknowledgements

This book would not have been possible without the deft editorial skill
and vision of Keith Miller, who helped shape my Ph.D. dissertation into
this creation.
As my advisor, but also as a colleague and friend, Wayne Caldwell has
been unwavering in his belief in me and my abilities and dreams. It was
he who planted the first seeds of a Ph.D. and he in so many practical
ways created the conditions necessary for those seeds to grow to frui-
tion. For his extraordinary ability to see the positive in every situation
and remain open to new ideas, I am grateful.
My committee members, Al Lauzon, Karen Landman, and Anna-
Marie Ball were a dynamic complement. Al’s gifts were hours of listen-
ing deeply to my evolving ideas and process, challenging me yet offering
guidance, and all the while giving me permission to follow my heart.
Karen brought an openness to my research ideas and, at key moments,
posed challenging questions and offered refreshing insights. Anna-Marie,
located in Kampala, was brought on later in the process and provided
essential ongoing critique, analysis, and insight as the research process
evolved. In addition to accommodation, she provided invaluable com-
panionship over my two years in Uganda—a circle now complete after
me having done the same during the final year of her Ph.D. As my sister
and friend, Anna-Marie not only forged the way for me by being the first
in our family to earn a Ph.D. but, in so many countless ways throughout
my life, has mentored and applauded me.

v
vi    Acknowledgements

The five women whose stories are the subject of this research have
inspired and taught me important life lessons. Without them, this study
would not have been possible. Joyce Jermana Minderu Pol-Lokkia,
Tina Zubedha Umar, Juliana Munderi Denise, Rita Nkemba, and Rose
Miligan Lochiam are strong, innovative, and courageous women. Each
in her own way welcomed me into her life and opened herself, her family,
and her community to me. For such generosity and for the gifts of their
stories, I am deeply grateful.
Marg Huber, of Global Peace Hut (GPH), with gentle graciousness
and unflagging optimism, championed my research from its initial incep-
tion. With the affiliation of her organization, GPH, she helped open the
way for me to go to Uganda. While in Uganda, Dr. Deus Nkurunziza,
of the Religious Studies Department at Makerere University, gave gener-
ously of his time, experience, reference resources, and personal connec-
tions. The Makerere Peace and Conflict Studies Resource Centre made
it possible to complete my literature review in-country. Paulo Wangoola,
of Mpambo Afrikan Multiversity, brought much insight and wisdom.
Through his ongoing work with indigenous “mother-tongue schol-
ars,” I was privileged to participate in a series of dialogues toward fur-
ther “decolonization of the mind.” Adiga Eddie, research assistant and
friend, saved me from hours of transcription, managed travel logistics,
frequently translated language and culture, and continually reminded me
to live in the present.
Throughout this entire journey, Ayiko Solomon’s love and unfalter-
ing belief in me and in my ability to complete this degree sustained me.
Irene Yebuga embraced me fully into her family and provided important
introductions in Uganda. Jeanne Andersen, once high school art teacher
and now resolute friend and fellow lover of Africa and of things woman,
consistently calls me back to my soul and to inherent creativity. Heidi
Hoernig, fellow traveler on the Ph.D. path, led the way for me, provid-
ing academic insight and sharing the struggle of grappling with head/
heart balance. Other strong women friends who surround me and, in
their unique ways, nourish my life are Lyn McNiffe, Ildikó Dénes, Doris
Jakobsh, Heather Lokko, and Yvonne Kaethler.
My family, my source of constant support and ever-present advice,
have traveled the whole of my life’s journey with me, have ridden the
highs and the lows, and their love is steadfast. From my parents, Harold
and Patricia Ball, I have been given my great love for people, my affinity
 Acknowledgements    vii

for Africa, and my sense of justice and integrity. In my family are both
my roots and my wings.
Finally, to my Creator, my ancestors, and “all my relations,” I give
great thanks.
This project was supported through funding from the IDRC Doctoral
Research Award, the SSHRC Graduate Fellowship, and the University of
Guelph.
 Contents

1 Prologue: Patterning My Life 1

2 Women and Peacebuilding in Uganda 3

3 Joyce Jermana Minderu Pol-Lokkia 31

4 Tina Zubedha Umar 59

5 Juliana Munderi Denise 95

6 Rita Nkemba 121

7 Rose Miligan Lochiam 163

8 Expanding the Definition of Peacebuilding 209

9 Epilogue: Completing the Quilt 215

Index 217

ix
 List of Figures

Fig. 3.1 Joyce Jermana Minderu Pol-Lokkia 32

Fig. 3.2 Joyce Pol-Lokkia family tree 38
Fig. 4.1 Tina Zubedha Umar 60
Fig. 5.1 Juliana Munderi Denise 96
Fig. 6.1 Rita Nkemba 122
Fig. 7.1 Rose Miligan Lochiam 164

xi
 CHAPTER 1

Prologue: Patterning My Life

Amid the hustle and bustle of Owino Market, with people jostling
around us through narrow alleyways, my friends and I mull over bolts of
fabric.
“This one.”
“What about this?”
“No, not that one—try that one over there.”

We instruct the shopkeeper, who patiently hooks down bolts of mate-

rial from the colorful stacks lining the walls, floor to ceiling. Spread
before us are variegated patterns: a sheaf of earth tones, my shades of
purple, and two heaps of multicolored cloth. Our goal? Four handmade
quilts.
The inspiration came to us when three Ugandan friends and I decided
we should all learn to quilt. It would be a reason to get together weekly
to sew and socialize. Living on the same street in Kampala, we had
quickly become an integral part of each other’s lives, with shared meals,
much teasing and laughter, and many stories. Over the next months, as
we cut, pieced, and stitched our patchworks, I reflected on the patterns
of my own life that had brought me here.
Born to Canadian missionary parents in rural Zambia, I grew up
immersed in both Zambian and Canadian cultures and yet not fully part
of either. This identity, with its inherent tensions and versatility, is one I
continued to develop as I sought to survive my traumatic transplanting
to Canadian soil when I was eighteen. In the intervening years, through

© The Author(s) 2019 1

J. Ball, Women, Development and Peacebuilding in Africa,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-97949-6_1
2 J. BALL

my education, my work in community development in various African

countries, and my work in rural planning in Canada, I grappled with the
dissonance between my skin color and my African roots.
I learned of the power and privilege ascribed to being “white,” the
ongoing destructiveness of colonial and neocolonial legacies reliant on
the misuse of such power, and my responsibility to use these privileges
with integrity and for the good of the whole.
For many years, I felt that, because I was white, my place was not in
Africa; that there were African people who were better qualified to be
making change and building that continent. While this is true, I have
come to realize that it is also true that I, with my white skin and mixed
African–Canadian culture, have something significant to contribute.
I wanted to spend time with women in Africa. I wanted to hear the
stories of ordinary women who were doing extraordinary things to build
their families and communities, and, in the process, building peace. I
wanted to use my privileges and power (of education and articulation) to
provide a platform for their voices.
Now, as I stitch my quilt, I think of all the threads that have come
together over the last two years. I have traveled much of Uganda, stayed
in numerous homes and villages, and built relationships with many
extraordinary women. I am full of their stories. It is these that I want to
share: stories they have shared with me and entrusted to me; stories that
tell of the incredible work of their lives, and of their challenges and inspi-
ration. They consider these stories to be very ordinary. However, it is in
these stories—and the living of their lives—that they offer up a gift to the
world.
 CHAPTER 2

Women and Peacebuilding in Uganda

Women and Peacebuilding

Peacebuilding, as defined by most mainstream literature and international
policies, refers to processes and activities engaged in during periods
of post-conflict reconstruction. Peacebuilding in this sense follows
on the efforts of peacemaking and peacekeeping, those interventions
designed to end the violence and negotiate an agreement or resolu-
tion, thereby enabling the rebuilding of societal infrastructure (Ball and
Halevy 1996; Boutros-Ghali 1992, 1995; Jeong 2000, 2002a; Porter
2007). Peacebuilding, from this perspective, is limited in time and
space, in scope, and in those deemed to be doing peacebuilding. These
peacebuilders are generally outsiders, often Westerners, whose mandate
and concern are to intervene and assist in situations of protracted vio-
lent conflict (Jeong 2002b; Lederach and Jenner 2002; Reynolds and
Paffenholz 2001).
An alternative and more holistic definition of peacebuilding under-
stands this concept to encompass all aspects of life and all stages of
conflict—pre-conflict, the actual conflict, and post-conflict—and so is
inclusive of activities of prevention, resolution, and reconstruction. It
recognizes the importance not only of the resolution of conflict and the
rebuilding of physical infrastructure, but also the cultivation, nurturance,
and transformation of the overall context in which conflict is embedded.
The focus thus is not merely on ending violence (negative peace) but
also on creating and ensuring the socioeconomic and political conditions

© The Author(s) 2019 3

J. Ball, Women, Development and Peacebuilding in Africa,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-97949-6_2
4 J. BALL

in which people’s rights and basic human needs can be protected and
met (positive peace) (Burton 1990; Galtung 1996; Lederach 1995,
1997, 2003; Maiese 2003; Mazurana and McKay 1999; Moshe 2001;
Reardon 1993; Schirch 2004; Strickland and Duvvury 2003). Such is the
interconnection between peacebuilding and development (Moshe 2001;
Moosa et al. 2013; Paffenholz et al. 2005; UNESCO 2002).
Women are actively engaged in peacebuilding at every level, from the
grassroots to the international arena. However, their work is often not
made visible, and thus their voices and perspectives are sometimes not
heard or regarded as credible (Erzurum and Eren 2014; Mazurana and
McKay 1999; McKay 2002; McKay and de la Rey 2001; Moosa et al.
2013; Strickland and Duvvury 2003). This is partly because the major-
ity of women’s involvement is found at the grassroots or local commu-
nity level, but also because women themselves often do not view their
work as peacebuilding—it is more informal and is seen as part of their
social roles and responsibilities. Because of this, “women’s contributions
tend to be undervalued and not readily incorporated or sought by many
practitioners of peacebuilding” (Strickland and Duvvury 2003, p. 7).
They do not often influence higher level policy development and deci-
sion-making. This book hopes to redress some of that undervaluing by
bringing the voices of women peacebuilders to the fore.
Women have long been associated with peace. This is in large part
due to their role as mothers—those who give and protect life—and their
perceived embodiment of “feminine” values of nurturance, compassion,
communalism, and collaboration (Boulding 2000, 2002; Charlesworth
2008; Reardon 1993). While holding some truth, these theories of
biological predisposition and cultural socialization fail to recognize the
diversity of identities within and among women along lines of age, race,
class, ethnicity, language, religion, and ability. They also set up a polari-
zation in which men are associated with war and violence as they live out
more “masculine” values of dominance, aggression, and competition.
Such dichotomies make peace the purview of women only, denying the
reality that men are capable of taking on caregiver roles or may be social-
ized in more “feminine” values, and essentially abdicating men from
their responsibility toward building peace (Boulding 2000; Dipio 2004;
Reardon 1993; Vincent 2003). As peace requires the transformation of
whole societies, it necessitates the involvement of both men and women.
That being said, women are known to lead the way in peace initia-
tives (Boulding 2000; Reardon 1993). While sorely underrepresented
 2 WOMEN AND PEACEBUILDING IN UGANDA 5

at higher levels of decision-making, women are disproportionately

represented in peacebuilding efforts at the grassroots level (Mazurana
and McKay 1999; Porter 2003; Sorensen 1998). Their roles and con-
tributions have, however, only been recognized at international policy
levels since 2000, in the passing of the United Nations Resolution 1325
on “Women, Peace, and Security.” This disconnect between the on-
the-ground reality and what is reflected in national and international pol-
icies, programs, and funding allocations is in large part due to the gender
inequality and corresponding power imbalances inherent in global and
societal structures and institutions (Baksh et al. 2005; Erzurum and Eren
2014; Reardon 1993; Rehn and Johnson Sirleaf 2002b).
Women’s perspectives, needs, and contributions in areas of conflict
and peacebuilding have not historically been solicited, profiled, or incor-
porated into the policy and program decisions directly affecting them.
Years of advocacy by women’s groups have, in the last decade, resulted
in a growing realization of the significance of a gendered perspective to
peacebuilding. The field of peacebuilding, in this way, builds on a similar
evolution of and discourse within the field of development.
International development originally operated from an assumption
that “gender neutrality” had no differentiated impacts on men or women
but provided benefit to all. The effects of gender inequality, inevitably a
part of every society, were not taken into consideration. As York (1998,
p. 23) reminds us, “women—who comprise the majority of the poor,
who constitute more than half the world’s population, and who do two-
thirds of the labor—make only one-tenth of the money and own only
one-hundredth of the property.”
Such realities became more apparent through the critique of femi-
nist researchers, leading to a series of paradigm shifts in the field from
women in development (WID) to women and development (WAD) to
gender and development (GAD) to women, environment, and devel-
opment (WED) and, more recently, to women’s economic empow-
erment (WEE) (Strickland and Duvvury 2003; Yusufu 2000; de Haan
2017)—all aimed at promoting greater awareness of and intentionality
toward gender equity and women’s participation in and empowerment
through development. Pankhurst (2003, 2004) notes, however, that
gender mainstreaming in development is fundamentally related to a real-
ization of its impact on the overall “efficiency” and success achieved.
This she parallels with the shift in peacebuilding policies, with the caveat
that such a shift has not necessarily “led back into reconceptions of the
6 J. BALL

impact of gender relations on the conditions of conflict or peace. Nor

has it led to a change in women’s experience of conflict or peace build-
ing” (Pankhurst 2003, p. 157).
The gendering of peacebuilding challenges underlying assumptions
about the roles of men and women in conflict and peace. Conventional
thought, with its roots in patriarchy, would argue that, as it is primarily
men who fight in wars, men should negotiate the end to wars. From this
perspective, women are simply victims of wars as they are confined to
the home front, looking after families and mourning the inevitable loss
of their menfolk. Women are not seen as leaders, as being rational, or
as having the experience to participate at other levels (Ramsey Marshall
2000; Erzurum and Eren 2014). The consequence is that women are
generally not present during peace talks. They are not invited to be part
of negotiations, and thus their needs and perspectives do not help for-
mulate plans for reconstruction or sustaining peace.
Women are indeed disproportionately victims of war, especially as the
nature of conflict and war has changed. Instead of being fought mainly
on battlegrounds far from home between opposing forces of professional
soldiers, wars increasingly target civilians, of whom women and children
make up between 70 and 80% (Afshar 2004; Heyzner 2003; Rehn and
Johnson Sirleaf 2002b). Furthermore, in armed conflict and war, women
are increasingly targeted in sexual violence—rape, trafficking, and sex
slavery.
Feminist literature exposes the relationship between sexual violence
and patriarchy. When women are seen to be without value except in their
relation to men (as wives, daughters, and sisters); when they are with-
out identity (personal, ethnic, national) except as they acquire such from
their relationship with a man—as his wife, becoming part of his family
and community, and producing offspring assumed to be solely of his
people (not hers)—then women have no inherent individual worth. In
war they then become the means to humiliate, degrade, and intimidate
men of the opposing side. Their bodies become battlegrounds. Yet they
are caught in a catch-22, for, having been raped and sexually tortured by
men of the opposing side, women then face shame, derision, outright
rejection, and sometimes death from their male relatives and commu-
nity members for having “allowed” themselves to be so sexually defiled;
for not better “protecting” their sexual purity from contamination by
the “other” (Etchart and Baksh 2005; Handrahan 2004; Pankhurst
2003, 2004).
 2 WOMEN AND PEACEBUILDING IN UGANDA 7

When so rejected, women also face a loss of social status and lose
access to resources such as land and economic support derived from their
relationship with male relatives or their spouse. This deprives them of the
means to support and feed themselves and their children. It is exacer-
bated by the reality that through rape many also contract HIV/AIDS
and other sexually transmitted infections that further complicate and
compromise their lives (Etchart and Baksh 2005; Rehn and Johnson
Sirleaf 2002b).
Gender-based violence is not confined to times of war, however.
Women are also victims of domestic violence outside of war. They report
significant increases in such violence post-conflict when men, themselves
traumatized, return home. In fact, such times of supposed peace and
reconstruction may actually be worse for women than during the war
(Sideris 2002; Pankhurst 2008). As Meintjes et al. (2001) note, there is
no aftermath for women; the continuum of violence is ever present in
many women’s lives.
Other ways in which women are affected differently and dispropor-
tionately than men in conflict are in their roles as caretakers of chil-
dren, the elderly, and the wounded and maimed. In the absence of men,
women must assume the burden of producing or finding food within
environments of extreme insecurity (often risking rape and violent assault
as they do so). Women frequently face displacement from their land and
homes, often forced for their survival into camps internal or external to
their country. Their property and resources destroyed, they are left des-
titute and impoverished. Without means of income, many face difficult
choices, selling their bodies for small amounts of money or food for the
survival of their children. Their suffering is exacerbated by the lack of
services and opportunities—health, policing, education, employment—
due to the destruction of infrastructure and breakdown of institutions
(Bop 2001; Rehn and Johnson Sirleaf 2002b). As Rehn and Johnson
Sirleaf (2002a, p. 9) note, “war exponentially intensifies the inequities
that women are living with.”
Some argue that women may also benefit from war, because when
their men are absent they are freed from certain social norms, required
by the necessity of survival to take on men’s roles in protecting and pro-
viding for families. This experience can lead to frustration and resent-
ment when the conflict is over and the men return, and with them
expectations of life going “back to normal”: back to the status quo.
Women often do not want to return to their positions of marginalization
8 J. BALL

and inequality. Their struggle against this results in internal tension

and communal strife, usually with little fundamental change in gen-
der perceptions and underlying patriarchal ideologies (El-Bushra 2004;
Handrahan 2004).
Depending on the duration of the war, some women, such as female
combatants, may never have functioned in traditional roles and may
find such adjustment difficult, if not impossible (Mazurana and McKay
2004). Those widowed face a loss of social status, the threat of forced
remarriage, and the domination of male relatives. Thus, while war may
create opportunities for women to experience their own capabilities
beyond socially prescribed gender norms, and may even lead some to
struggle for greater equality in the post-conflict context, war ultimately
shatters women’s lives, ripping the social fabric—for better or worse—in
ways that render it irreparable.
***
In spite of calls for women’s participation in all levels of decision-mak-
ing related to peace and peacebuilding, women continue to be distinctly
absent from peace talks and negotiations and are not represented or are
underrepresented in local and international organizations (Anderlini
2003, 2007; Erzurum and Eren 2014; Iwilade 2011; Onubogu and
Etchart 2005). The lack of understanding by international development
agencies of women’s needs as victims and their contributions as active
peacebuilders in situations of conflict and in post-conflict reconstruc-
tion results in policies, personnel training, and peace and development
program implementation that lack or have inadequate gender awareness
and that in most instances perpetuate gender violence against women,
be it direct or structural (or, usually, both). Handrahan (2004) makes
the point that the inability of Western-influenced interventionist agencies
(as peacekeepers, mediators, or development agencies) to recognize the
negative influence of patriarchy, with its values of control, domination,
and oppression, within their own cultures and structures results in them
perpetuating the same in the contexts in which they work.
Some of the most overt examples of this are in documented cases (in
Angola, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Cambodia, the Democratic Republic
of Congo (DRC), East Timor, Liberia, Mozambique, Kosovo, Sierra
Leone, and Somalia) of peacekeepers raping or sexually exploiting
women and children under their protection by withholding food or
basic necessities in return for sex, and even being involved in human
 2 WOMEN AND PEACEBUILDING IN UGANDA 9

trafficking (Reardon 1993; Rehn and Johnson Sirleaf 2002b). Other

less glaring but well-known examples include the planning and design of
refugee camps that make no consideration for the security and unique
needs of women and children, though these are known to make up a
majority of refugee populations the world over. Food distribution prac-
tices often favor men, and there is a lack of protection for women, who
are preyed upon by men both inside camps and outside, where they must
often go to collect water and firewood (Isis-WICCE 2005c; Rehn and
Johnson Sirleaf 2002b).
Women at the grassroots level define peace more broadly than con-
ventional international definitions. Peace is about more than the ces-
sation of hostilities, disarmament, and infrastructure reconstruction
negotiated in peace agreements. For such women, peace encompasses
both an end to the particular violent conflict and an end to violence
in their homes. Their struggle for peace represents their struggle for
equity, for the protection of human rights, and for the transformation
of structures and institutions that keep women and minority groups
marginalized and oppressed, denying them access to resources, rights,
and opportunities. It is about intercultural tolerance and nonviolence
(Isis-WICCE 2005b, December; Mazurana and McKay 1999). Most
women live within the nuances of these concepts. Their perspectives
emanate from their lived reality. And these, time and again, are seen to
ground the more intellectual and theoretical debates, discussions, and
negotiations of the men. Such is the role women often play in balanc-
ing “masculine” energies, values, and perspectives (G. Herman, personal
communication, November 12, 2007).
Just as women experience the effects of violent conflict differ-
ently than men, so do they engage in peacebuilding differently, often
employing unconventional and creative methods. Documented exam-
ples include women protesting naked—in Australia against war and in
India against the provision of special military powers that resulted in the
brutal rape and death of a young woman (Hussain 2004; The Sunday
Mail 2003). In Israel, the “Women in Black” movement has involved
women protesting the Palestinian occupation by dressing in black—
symbolic of mourning—and standing in intersections and public spaces
(Afshar 2004; Marshall 2005). Three women in the UK clandestinely
entered a weapons factory and disarmed an aircraft bound for use in the
East Timor genocide, plastering it with photographs of children and a
woman killed in one of the massacres, and leaving a banner proclaiming
10 J. BALL

“Women Disarming for Life and Justice” (International Fellowship of

Reconciliation and International Peace Bureau, 1997 in Mazurana and
McKay 1999).
We are only just beginning to recognize the range and diversity of
women’s involvement and initiatives in peacebuilding. And, while many
women join together and form organizations and NGOs for the pur-
pose of doing peacebuilding, the majority so engaged do not define their
efforts as peacebuilding; they see what they do as simply part of their
lives, part of their struggle for the survival of their families, investment in
the health and development of their communities, and ultimately for the
future of their children (Isis-WICCE 2005b, December; Marshall 2005;
Mazurana and McKay 1999; Porter 2003; Strickland and Duvvury 2003;
van Reisen 2015). For women at the community level, theirs is a deeply
personal involvement and commitment. “Unlike political elites or inter-
national actors, women in communities never plan their work with an
‘exit strategy’ in mind” (Anderlini 2003, p. 20). They are in it for the
long haul.
Grassroots women’s peacebuilding concerns are more holistic and
inclusive of meeting human needs—physical needs such as food, water,
shelter, safety, and relational, psychosocial, and spiritual needs (de la Rey
and McKay 2006; Mazurana and McKay 1999). Women recognize the
vital interconnections between all of these needs and peacebuilding; they
emphasize that addressing some without the others cannot lead to peo-
ple’s empowerment and to sustainable peace and development.
In peacebuilding, women draw upon and develop networks of rela-
tionships within and beyond their own communities (Mazurana and
McKay 1999). As some of women’s primary resources, relationships pro-
vide essential support for women on all levels and afford them opportu-
nities to assert much influence and therefore assert certain power. In this,
many are highly skilled.
It is important to emphasize that peacebuilding is context specific (de
la Rey and McKay 2006). Like conflict, peacebuilding arises out of spe-
cific sociopolitical, cultural, economic, and environmental settings and
circumstances. It therefore takes many forms and is different in different
places and situations, inspired by the varying conditions of people’s lives.
What is perceived or defined as peacebuilding in one area may not be the
same in another. All views of peacebuilding are partial and would do well
to be informed by others, especially by the experiences and approaches
of the diverse women of the world who live out peacebuilding in their
 2 WOMEN AND PEACEBUILDING IN UGANDA 11

homes and communities. The following sections look at the communities

and larger environment within which the women in this book live and do
their peacebuilding.

Uganda
Uganda should be viewed not as a single context but as made up of
numerous diverse contexts—each with different geographic, historical,
political, and cultural experiences and influences that significantly impact
both the issues of conflict in these areas and the responses to conflict
in terms of efforts toward peacebuilding. While each of the women in
this study shares the experience of being Ugandan, each also has distinct
experiences and perspectives based on her identity in being from a dis-
crete part of the country.
Winston Churchill described Uganda as the “pearl of Africa.” This is
a country known for its many lakes, dramatic mountains, lush tropical
vegetation, fertile soil, and pleasant equatorial climate. Its topography
ranges from the semiarid plains in the east to the rainforests and snow-
capped Rwenzori Mountains in the west. Uganda sits on the equator, on
a plateau about 1000 meters above sea level.
Situated within East Africa, Uganda is bordered by the DRC, Sudan,
Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda, and the world’s second-largest freshwa-
ter lake, Lake Victoria. As such it is surrounded by numerous ongo-
ing regional conflicts (e.g., in South Sudan, Western Sudan, eastern
DRC, between Ethiopia and Eritrea, the residual trauma of genocide in
Rwanda and Burundi, and uprisings in Kenya) that at different times and
to varying degrees threaten its national security.
Uganda is approximately the size of the UK, 241,038 square kilo-
meters, and has a population of over 43.9 million (Uganda Population
2017; Worldometers 2017). It is a multiethnic and multicultural soci-
ety with many diverse cultural groups and more than 43 languages
spoken (Simons and Fennig 2018). Although English is the official lan-
guage, the majority of people are more comfortable speaking their own
languages.
The ethnic groups in Uganda may generally be categorized as those
of Bantu origins in the central and south, related to most of the rest
of southern Africa; and those of Luo, Sudanic, and Atekerin or Nilo-
Hamitic origins, related to peoples in South Sudan, Sudan, and the
Horn of Africa (Nzita and Niwampa 1993). The Nile River is considered
12 J. BALL

the general line of delineation between these two parts of the country.
This distinction between north and south has been a source of national
conflict and tension since colonial times, when the British intentionally
exploited and exacerbated the differences between the regions. As well,
the national borders, arbitrarily determined in Europe by colonial powers
and so dividing families, clans, and ethnic groups, set the stage for inter-
nal conflict. Even today, those living along these borders feel a greater
kinship with peoples across the border than with the rest of the country.
Such are the ongoing challenges of creating a national identity.
Elements of the colonial legacy, together with the post-independence
power struggles and current political and socioeconomic challenges, con-
tinue to create and contribute to conditions of local and national con-
flict. Uniquely, Uganda was never made a colony. It became a British
protectorate in 1894. At the time there were five major kingdoms—Bu-
ganda, Busoga, Toro, Bunyoro, and Ankole—in the center, south, and
west. The most powerful of these was the Kingdom of Buganda, whose
people the British favored and strategically used in their mission to divide
and conquer the rest of the region. Areas outside of Buganda, especially
in the north and extreme southwest, were designated for labor supply for
the large farms in Buganda (Leggett 2001). Education and services were
also provided disproportionately to those groups favored by the coloni-
alists. This resulted in regional imbalances of development and a margin-
alization of the north and southwest that persist today and are the source
of much underlying tension. They are at the root of several of the rebel
movements since independence.
Another significant source of conflict in Uganda seeded during colo-
nial times is religion. As with most colonial enterprises, the subjugation
of peoples went hand in hand with their conversion, willingly or oth-
erwise, to religion. In Uganda, Roman Catholics and Anglicans fought
each other, and together they fought Muslims for territorial control. This
intertwining of religion and politics would continue to haunt Uganda
in future tyrannical regimes (Barnes and Lucima 2002; Leggett 2001;
Uganda 30 Years: 1962–1992, 1992). The majority of Ugandans are
either Christian (Roman Catholic or Protestant), Muslim, or practice
traditional African spirituality. Many Christians and Muslims, however,
practice some form of their traditional spirituality in rituals and ceremo-
nies. However, the influence of religions that try to assert supremacy
continues to be a threat in creating animosities not otherwise a part of
traditional beliefs and culture.
 2 WOMEN AND PEACEBUILDING IN UGANDA 13

Uganda gained independence in 1962 without a civil war. Its first

president was Edward Mutesa, the Buganda kabaka, or king. However,
in 1966, Prime Minister Milton Obote unilaterally suspended the con-
stitution and forced the president into exile after destroying the kaba-
ka’s palace. So began a period of twenty years characterized by “tyranny
and oppression; corruption; black marketeering, and economic collapse;
tribalism, violation of human rights and civil war” (Leggett 2001). The
period that became known as “Obote I” lasted from 1966 to 1971. In
1971, Idi Amin ousted Obote and ruled until 1979. Among other atroc-
ities, Amin is infamous for his expulsion of virtually the entire Asian pop-
ulation in Uganda. Obote then took power again for “Obote II” from
1980 to 1985. A detailing of Uganda’s political history is not possible
here. Suffice it to say that the religious wars during colonial times and
the horrors of the twenty years following independence have left Uganda
a society that has experienced generations of violence and trauma.
In 1986 the current president, Yoweri Kaguta Museveni, and his
National Resistance Movement (NRM) took power by force after years
of guerrilla warfare against previous regimes. In 1996 he was elected
president, and again in 2000 for a second term. Subsequent elections
in 2006 and 2011 were controversial, as Museveni had the constitution
changed to enable himself to run for a third and then a fourth term; he
was, however, reelected in a relatively peaceful process. Many Ugandans,
though increasingly dissatisfied with the government, fear the unknown
alternative and so continue to tolerate the present regime. Others, espe-
cially those in the north who have known war for over twenty years, feel
otherwise.
Under Museveni’s leadership, the central, western, and southern parts
of the country have rebuilt their economies and, in relative peace, have
made impressive strides in providing government services, healthcare ser-
vices, and educational opportunities to their populations. This has been
impossible in the north, where several civil wars have been waged—the
most profiled that of Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army. The twenty
years of this conflict and insecurity have left these areas disproportion-
ately underdeveloped, further disadvantaging people already severely
traumatized.
With 80% of Uganda’s population reliant on subsistence agricul-
ture, issues of land are paramount to people’s survival (Leggett 2001;
UNDP 2007). Displacement, insecurity, and land shortage in some areas
make cultivation virtually impossible and so create high levels of poverty.
14 J. BALL

Currently, nearly 34.6% of the population lives below the national pov-
erty level (UNDP 2017). As of 2015, Uganda ranked 163 out of 188
on the Human Development Index; as such, it is a relatively poor country
(UNDP 2017).
Education is difficult in a subsistence economy and in a context where
AIDS has left so many children orphaned, without parents to support
them. Even for those young people who are successful in their education,
high levels of unemployment mean few prospects for job opportunities
and increased redundancy.
Healthcare demands in Uganda are high, with infrastructure and ser-
vices inadequate and underfunded. Life expectancy in Uganda is about
fifty-nine years (UNDP 2017). Many illnesses are poverty-related, and
therefore preventable with improved sanitation and drinking water.
However, over 60% of the population is currently without access to clean
water (WHO/UNICEF 2017). Diseases such as malaria, HIV/AIDS,
cholera, meningitis, hepatitis, yellow fever, and periodic outbreaks of
Ebola take lives and put constant strains on healthcare resources and per-
sonnel. Both private and government facilities exist and both charge for
treatments, thus making health care a feared unexpected cost for most
Ugandans.
One of the most significant contributions of the present government
has been the decentralized form of governance. There are five levels of
local councils—village, parish, sub-county, county, and district—with the
district as the administrative center and each responsible for the planning
and implementation of development. Government is in this way accessi-
ble to and active in the lives of local populations. As with other services,
however, there is lower capacity in those regions dealing with civil war
and insecurity.

Women in Uganda
Women in Uganda live in a society dominated by patriarchal values and
culturally prescribed gender roles. Most women who live in rural areas
are primarily responsible for the family—the production or acquisition of
food, cooking meals, fetching water, bearing and caring for children, and
often paying for school fees.
The roles and identity of men have, in many areas of the country,
been so distorted and damaged by the violence and trauma of war that
men often fail to carry out their traditional roles of providing for the
 2 WOMEN AND PEACEBUILDING IN UGANDA 15

family. Some escape this crisis of identity through alcohol; others resign
themselves to their redundancy and spend their days sitting idly, watch-
ing life around them, and talking with other men. Most fall back on the
privileges of their traditional male authority as heads of the household.
All of this puts additional burdens on the women.
Most cultures in Uganda are traditionally polygamous; this is further
encouraged among Muslims. Though polygamy serves many purposes,
women often name the practice as the source of much domestic con-
flict, whether between co-wives or in the treatment of children by the
various mothers. First wives hold a position of authority and respect in
the home, while subsequent wives do not. Frequently, the last wife is the
youngest and most favored by the husband.
The position of women in traditional cultures in Uganda varies by
ethnic group. Some give specific and direct powers to particular women
in the family (e.g., the role of ssenga or “senior auntie” as a mentor
for the youth among the Baganda and Basoga); others do not. Where
women do not traditionally have overt power in social arenas like the
men, they have developed avenues for acquiring and asserting power
indirectly through their abilities to strategize and influence. Relationships
are the primary resource in using such skills; thus, women often become
astute at maintaining knowledge of relational connections between fami-
lies, clans, and larger ethnic groups. They become masters of influence as
they use these relationships to assert power and acquire what they need
for the survival of their family.
Urban women live with only slight variations on the roles of their
rural counterparts. Differences lie mainly in their socioeconomic pros-
pects. Those who are educated seek jobs, but compete for unequal
opportunities with men. Gender discrimination is rampant in get-
ting or maintaining employment (Kyomuhendo and McIntosh 2006).
Professional women are faced with doing double duty in working out-
side the home while being expected by their husbands and extended
families to maintain their traditional role within the home. In terms of
gender roles, the urban arena is a place of uncertain tension and tran-
sition between traditional and modern expectations. Both women
and men are trying to find their way between traditional values and
the issues raised by urban living, such as shared responsibilities in the
home, money management of dual incomes, and expectations about
monogamy and fidelity. Socioeconomic status is a major factor in such
negotiations.
16 J. BALL

Women as Peacebuilders in Uganda

Uganda has a rich history of women’s organization and mobilization,
pre- and post-independence, as documented in detail by Aili Mari Tripp
(Tripp 2000). National organizations such as the Uganda Council of
Women and the Uganda Association of Women’s Organizations have
been actively engaged in advocating for women’s rights and social, eco-
nomic, cultural, and political concerns since independence in 1962. After
1985, following the UN Decade of Women conference in Nairobi, there
was a noted increase in the number of women’s organizations and ad hoc
mobilization around issues of concern to the nation’s women (Mulumba
2002; Tripp 2002). Significantly, these groups have managed to main-
tain some autonomy from dominant political interests and have attracted
a membership that cuts across lines of ethnicity, religion, and politics
(Tripp 2002). According to Tripp (2002, p. 1), “Ugandan women are
highly organized even by world standards.” She goes on to say: “When
viewed from a comparative African perspective, Uganda today is a leader
in advancing women’s rights, in spite of the continuing challenges”
(Tripp 2002, p. 6).
Such advancements have been attributed to the supportive polit-
ical policy environment created by Yoweri Museveni’s NRM. The
gender-sensitive 1995 constitution instituted affirmative action to
ensure women’s political involvement at all levels. This has resulted in
increased opportunities for women in influential political positions.
Uganda, for example, can boast the first female vice president in Africa,
Dr. Speciosa Wandira Kazibwe. As well, it has achieved approximately a
40% representation of women in parliament (Dipio 2004)—a significant
improvement from the lone woman in parliament in 1980 (Tripp 2002).
Several notable women lead the way in courageously speaking out on
and advocating for women’s rights and gender equality at national lev-
els. Among these are Miria Matembe, Rhoda Kalema, Betty Bigombe,
Cecilia Ogwal, Naava Nabageser, and Sylvia Tamale (Isis-WICCE 2004;
Tamale 1999). Women are far more visible in leadership in Uganda
today than they were in the past and there is a broader public awareness
and acceptance, even at local levels, of the necessity of women’s involve-
ment in forums of decision-making (Tripp 2002).
However, this environment is not without its challenges. Years of
struggle by women activists have yet to result in the successful passing
of a Domestic Relations Bill to protect women’s rights in relation to
 2 WOMEN AND PEACEBUILDING IN UGANDA 17

“issues of inheritance and succession as well as the regulation of polyg-

amy, payment of bride price, and the age of marriage” (Tripp 2002,
p. 9). Such a bill is deemed essential to women’s empowerment and abil-
ity to engage more equitably and effectively in their own development
as well as that of the country. This is of particular significance given that
Uganda has ratified the Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of
Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), as well as other related inter-
national conventions and protocols, yet appears to not have the political
will to integrate such commitments into a national policy (International
Crisis Group 2006).
Ugandan women activists observe a diminishing level of commitment
and support by government for women’s issues. This is paralleled with
increasing constraints on democracy in the country as Museveni employs
more desperate measures to remain in power. It is also evident in the
dramatic downsizing of the Ministry of Women in Development that
has, since 1999, been subsumed within the Ministry of Gender, Labour
and Social Development (Tripp 2002).
Against this backdrop, and in response to the violence of the numer-
ous conflicts and civil wars that characterize Uganda’s history, the
Ugandan women’s peace movement has emerged to protest and advo-
cate for an end to the insecurity in various regions of the country, to
educate and raise awareness of the effects of violent conflict on women,
and to demand a voice and place for women in the male-dominated pub-
lic forums and peace negotiations. This they have done through demon-
strations, conferences, workshops, and many individual acts of courage.
The first mass organizing by women for peace in Uganda was in
1985, by the National Council of Women, after the coup that put Tito
Okello in power. Two thousand women demonstrated in Kampala
against the heightened insecurity and violence particularly perpetrated
against women by the military (Ankrah 1987 in Tripp 2000). In 1989,
“when few others dared to speak out about the conflict” (International
Crisis Group 2006, p. 12), the Gulu Women’s Development Committee
organized a protest in which 1500 women, in mourning attire, marched
through the town for five hours chanting funeral songs and blowing
funeral horns, causing the entire town to weep over the atrocities of the
war (International Crisis Group 2006; Mulumba 2002).
The 1990s saw women’s organizations start to work more concert-
edly on issues of conflict and the impacts of war on women (Mulumba
2002). Isis-WICCE has played a central role in this through training and
18 J. BALL

capacity building among women, assisting with the setting up of local

women’s peace clubs and facilitating cross-cultural exchanges within the
region. Its work in documenting the physical and psychosocial impacts
of violent conflict on women and men in regions such as Luweero,
Teso, Gulu, and Kitgum has been invaluable in bringing attention to the
on-the-ground realities of people’s lives and invaluable in advocacy for
services, for the protection of human rights, and ultimately for condi-
tions of peace (Isis-WICCE 1998, 1999, 2002, 2005a, 2006). Uganda’s
women’s peace movement has certainly benefited from this international
organization being headquartered in Kampala.
Uganda Women’s Network (UWONET) is a prominent national
organization focused on networking and action toward “the transforma-
tion of unequal gender relations in society” (UWONET 2005). In 1997,
together with Agency for Cooperation and Research in Development
(ACORD), it organized a peace conference in Kampala, bringing together
stakeholders in the conflict in Northern Uganda. UWONET now coordi-
nates the Uganda Women’s Coalition for Peace, formed in August 2006
as a “coalition of women and human rights NGOs making contributions
through lobbying and advocating for the inclusion of women and women
concerns in the ongoing peace talks” (UWONET 2005).
In addition to the many national organizations and initiatives, there
are numerous women’s peace groups and initiatives at local levels. To
name just a few, there are the Lira Women’s Peace Initiative (LIWEPI)
in Lira District in the north, Participatory Rural Action for Development
(PRAFORD) in the northwest or West Nile, Teso Women Peace Activists
(TEWPA) in the east, Luwero Women Development Association
(LUWODA) in Luwero District in central Uganda, Kitgum Women’s
Peace Initiative (KIWEPI) in the northeast, and Kasese Women’s Peace
Initiative in the west. These organizations work in communities to
mediate interpersonal disputes, assist in reconciliation rituals, provide
civil education on government policies such as the Amnesty Act, offer
safe havens and counseling to those who have escaped from the rebels,
provide vocational skills training for ex-combatants, document women’s
stories, and build coalitions with women across districts and regions that
are in conflict (International Crisis Group 2006; Isis-WICCE 2005a, b,
December). Local women’s groups are frequently at the forefront of
grassroots peacebuilding initiatives. These initiatives often create an ena-
bling environment for more formal, publicly recognized interventions or
negotiations.
 2 WOMEN AND PEACEBUILDING IN UGANDA 19

Local women’s groups are known to use singing and drama to con-
vey their peace messages. Acholi women, for example, sang songs
intended to be heard by the rebels in the surrounding bush, many of
whom were their children. These were songs asking them to come home,
and reassuring them of the community’s acceptance and forgiveness if
they did. Such messages contributed significantly to shifts in the relation-
ship between the rebels and local communities.
In addition to women’s organizations, there are a multitude of indi-
vidual women engaged in informal peacebuilding activities—“mobilizing
communities, creating opportunities for dialogue and non-violent means
of conflict resolution, as well as mending the ripped fabric of society”
(Isis-WICCE 2005b, December, p. 14). It is these women’s stories that
still need to be heard. As a report on women’s peacebuilding notes, many
of the peacebuilding efforts of women in Uganda are undertaken in con-
ditions of great danger and difficulty but remain almost entirely invisible
to male leaders in the region and do not appear to be recognized at gov-
ernment levels at all (International Crisis Group 2006, p. 15).

Gathering the Stories

As I set off to gather women’s stories in Uganda, I was aware of various
issues that would have a significant impact on the process and outcomes
of my research. These were issues of positionality—both mine and the
women I would interview; power—reflected both in post-colonial race
relations and in the researcher–researched relationship; and voice—in
terms of how I would choose to present both the women’s voices and
my own. All of these I explored through ongoing reflective journaling
over the course of the research. These were not issues to be definitively
resolved; rather, they were to be grappled with daily in lived reality,
sometimes leaving me straddling uncomfortable tensions.
Like any other individual, I have multiple identities influenced by
historical, social, cultural, political, economic, and environmental con-
texts. Some of my identities defined me as a single woman, in my late
thirties, without children; as an English-speaking, white Canadian;
as a child of missionaries, raised in rural areas of Zambia, Kenya, and
Canada; as being from a Christian background; as an academic; and as
a rural planner. Several of my identities gave me much cause for self-
reflection throughout the research, as they were the basis on which I was
given access to and invited into relationships with the various women
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
approbation to some beautiful copies prepared by the nuns, of the
works of Origen.[72] In St. Gall, where the literary activity of the
monks has already been referred to, the nuns in the convent of S.
Catharine were, in the thirteenth and in the first half of the fourteenth
centuries, also engaged in preparing transcripts of holy books.
Monkish Chroniclers.—In addition to the services
rendered by the monks in the preservation of classic literature, and
in addition also to the great amount of work required of them in the
routine of their monastery for the preparation of books of devotion
and instruction, a most valuable task was performed by many of the
monastic scribes in the production of the records or annals of their
times. The work of the literary monks included the functions not only
of scribes, but of librarians, collectors, teachers, and historians. The
records that have come down to us of several centuries of mediæval
European history are due almost exclusively to the labours of the
monastic chroniclers. Even those who did not compose books which
can properly be described as historical, have left in their cartularies
documents by the help of which the archæologists can to-day solve
the most important problems relating to the social, civil, domestic,
and agricultural life of their ancestors. The cartularies, says M. C.
Giraud, were the most curious monuments of the history of the
time.[73]
Without the monks, says Marsham (a Protestant writer), we should
have been as ignorant of our history as children.[74] England,
converted by her monks, has special reason to be proud of the
historians furnished by her abbeys.[75] One chronicler, Gildas, has
painted with fiery touches the miseries of Great Britain after the
departure of the Romans. To another, the Venerable Bede, author of
the ecclesiastical history of Britain, we owe the detailed account of
the Catholic Renaissance under the Saxons. Bede’s chronicle
extends to the year 731. Its author died four years later. Among later
monkish chroniclers may be mentioned Ingulphus, Abbot of
Croyland, whose history extends to 1091; Vitalis, a monk of
Shrewsbury, whose chronicle reached to 1141, and many others.
The chronicle of Vitalis gives an animated picture of the struggle
between the Saxons and the Normans, and of the vicissitudes during
this period of the Church of England. Later monastic historians were:
William of Malmesbury (circa 1095-1143), Geoffrey of Monmouth
(circa 1090-1154), Henry of Huntingdon (circa 1120-1180), Roger of
Wendover (circa 1169-1237), Matthew Paris (circa 1185-1259), and
Ralph Higden (circa 1280-1370). Further reference to the work of
these English chroniclers is made in the chapter on Books in
England during the Manuscript Period. This series of monkish
chronicles presents, says Montalembert, an inexhaustible amount of
information as to the manners, laws, and ideas of the times, and
unites with the important information of history the personal
attractiveness of biography.[76]
Among the chroniclers of France are to be noted S. Gregory of
Tours; S. Abbon, of St. Germain des Prés, who wrote the history of
the wars of King Eudes and an account of the sieges of Paris by the
Normans; Frodoard, who died in 968, and who wrote the annals of
the tenth century; Richer, whose history covers the period between
880 and 995; Helgaud, who wrote the life of King Robert; Aimoin, a
monk of Fleury, who died in 1008, and who wrote a very curious life
of S. Abbon and a record of the miracles at Fleury of S. Bénoît;
Chabanais, a monk of St. Cybar in Angoulême, who died in 1028,
and whose record reaches to 1025. It has been republished by Pertz
in the fourth volume of the Scriptores. Raoul Glaber, a monk of St.
Germain d’Auxerre, wrote a history of his own time in five books,
which covers the period from the accession of Hugh Capet to 1046.
Hugh, Abbot of Flavigny, wrote with considerable detail the history of
the eleventh century. These various monkish chronicles have served
as a basis for the first national and popular monuments of French
history. The famous chronicles of S. Denys, which were written very
early in Latin, were translated into French in the beginning of the
thirteenth century. They contain the essence of the historic and
poetic traditions of old France.
The mediæval history of Italy is in like manner dependent almost
entirely upon the records of the literary monks. The great collection
of Muratori is based upon the monkish chronicles, especially of those
of Volturna, Novalese, Farfa, Casa Aurio, and of Monte Cassino.
From the latter abbey, there sprang a series of distinguished
historians: Johannes Diaconus, the biographer of S. Gregory the
Great, who wrote during the reign of Charlemagne; Paulus
Diaconus, the friend of Charlemagne; Leo, Bishop of Ostia, first
author of the famous chronicle of Monte Cassino, and Peter
Diaconus, who continued its chronicle. Another monk of Monte
Cassino recounts the wonderful story of the conquest gained by the
Norman chivalry in the two Sicilies, a story reproduced and
completed by the Sicilian monk Malaterra.
The list of the learned historians in the German monasteries is
also an important one. The German collections of scriptories, such
as those of Eckard, Pez, Leibnitz, and others, present an enormous
mass of monastic chronicles. Among the earlier chroniclers were to
be noted Eginard, Theganus, and Rodolphus of Fulda, who
preserved the records of the dynasty of the Carlovingians. One of
the earlier historians of Charlemagne was a monk of St. Gall, while
the chronicles of that abbey, carried on by a long series of its writers,
have left a most valuable and picturesque representation of
successive epochs of its history. Regino, Abbot of Prüm, wrote a
history of the ninth century. Wittikind, a monk of Corvey, wrote the
chronicles of the reign of Henry I., and of Otho the Great. Ditmar,
who was at first a monk of Magdeburg and later Bishop of
Mersebourg, has left a detailed chronicle, extending from 920 to
1018, of the emperors of the House of Saxony. Among the eleventh-
century writers, is Hermannus Contractus, son of the Count of
Woegen, who was brought up at St. Gall but was later attached to
Reichenau. The history of the great struggle between the Church
and the Empire was written by Lambert, a monk of Hersfeld, and
continued by Berthold of Reichenau, Bernold of St. Blaise, and by
Ekkhard, Abbot of Aurach.[77] The first historian of Poland was a
French monk named Martin, while another monk of Polish origin,
named Nestor, who died in 1116, composed the earliest annals of
Russia (then newly converted to Christianity) which were known to
Europe. Among the monkish historians of the eleventh century, the
most noteworthy were William of Malmesbury, Gilbert of Nogent,
Abbot Suger, and Odo of Deuil.
 The persistent labour given by these monkish chroniclers to works,
the interest and importance of which were largely outside the routine
of their home monasteries and had in many cases no direct
connection with religious observances, indicates that they were
looking to a larger circle of readers than could be secured within the
walls of their own homes. While the evidences concerning the
arrangements for the circulation of these chronicles are at best but
scanty, the inference is fairly to be drawn that through the
interchange of books between the libraries of the monasteries, by
means of the services of travelling monks, and in connection with the
educational work of the majority of the monasteries, there came to
be, as early as the ninth century, a very general circulation of the
long series of chronicles among the scholarly readers of Europe.
Even the literary style in which the majority of the chronicles were
written gives evidence that the writers were addressing themselves,
not to one locality or to restricted circles of readers, but to the world
as they knew it, and that they also had an assured confidence in the
preservation of their work for the service and information of future
generations. The historian Stenzel (himself a Protestant) points out
that these monkish historians wrote under certain exceptional
advantages which secured for their work a larger amount of
impartiality and of accuracy of statement than could safely be
depended upon with, for instance, what might be called Court
chronicles, that is to say, histories which were the work of writers
attached to the Courts. The monks, said Stenzel, in daring to speak
the truth of those in power, had neither family nor property to
endanger, and their writings, prepared under the eye of their
monastic superiors and under the sovereign protection of the
Church, escaped at once the coercion or the influence of
contemporary rulers and the dangers of flattery for immediate
popular appreciation.[78] In the same strain, Montalembert contends
that the literary monks worked neither for gain nor for fame, but
simply for the glory of God. They wrote amidst the peace and
freedom of the cloister in all the candour and sincerity of their minds.
Their only ambition was to be faithful interpreters of the teaching
which God gives to men in history by reminding them of the ruin of
the proud, the exaltation of the humble, and the terrible certainty of
eternal judgment. He goes on to say that if princes and nobles never
wearied of founding, endowing, and enriching monasteries, neither
did the monks grow weary of chronicling the services and the
exploits of their benefactors, in order to transmit these to posterity.
Thus did they pay to the Catholic chivalry a just debt of gratitude.[79]
This pious opinion of Montalembert is a little naïve in its
expression when taken in connection with his previous conclusion
that the records of the monks could be trusted implicitly for candour,
sincerity, and impartiality. It is difficult to avoid the impression that in
recording the deeds of the noble leaders of their time, the monks
would naturally have given at least a full measure of attention and
praise to those nobles who had been the greatest benefactors to
their Order or to the particular monastery of the writer. The converse
may also not unnaturally be assumed. If a monarch, prince, or noble
leader should be neglectful of the claims of the monastery within his
realm, if there might be ground to suspect the soundness of his faith
to the Catholic Church, or doubt in regard to the adequacy of his
liberality to his ecclesiastical subjects, it is probable that his exploits
in war or in other directions were minimised or unrecorded. It is safe
to assume also that after the Reformation, the Protestant side of the
long series of complicated contests could hardly have been
presented by the monkish chroniclers with perfect impartiality.
Bearing in mind, however, how many personal influences may have
operated to impair the accuracy and the impartiality of these
chroniclers, they are certainly entitled to a full measure of
appreciation for the inestimable service rendered by them in the long
ages in which, outside of the monasteries, there were no historians.
It seems also to have been the case that with many of the monks
who devoted the larger portion of their lives to literary work, their
ambition and ideals as authors overshadowed any petty monkish
zeal for their Order or their monastery, and that it was their aim to
present the events of their times simply as faithful historians.
An example of this high standard of work is presented by
Ordericus Vitalis, who, as an English monk in a Norman abbey,[80]
was able to say: “I will describe the revolutions of England and of
Normandie without flattery to any, for I expect my reward neither
from the victors nor the vanquished.”[81]

The Work of the Scriptorium.—The words employed at

the consecration of the scriptorium are evidence of the spirit in which
the devout scholars approached their work: Benedicere digneris,
Domine, hoc scriptorium famulorum tuorum, ut quidquid scriptum
fuerit, sensu capiant, opere perficiant. (Vouchsafe, O Lord, to bless
this work-room of Thy servants, that they may understand and may
put in practice all they write.)[82]
Louis IX. took the ground that it was better to transcribe books
than to purchase the originals, because in this way the mass of
books available for the community was increased. Louis was,
however, speaking only of religious literature; he could not believe
that the world would be benefited by any distribution of the works of
profane writers. Ziegelbauer is in accord with Montalembert and
others in giving to the Benedictines of Iceland the credit for the
collections made of the Eddas and for the preservation of the
principal traditions of the Scandinavian mythology. He also confirms
the conclusion arrived at by the Catholic historians generally, that the
literary monuments of Greece and Rome which escaped the
devastation of the barbarians were saved by the monks and by them
alone. He cites, as a few examples from the long list of classics that
were thus preserved, five books of the Annals of Tacitus, found at
Corbie; the treatise of Lactantius on the Death of Persecutors,
preserved at Moissac; the Auluraria of Plautus, and the
Commentaries of Servius on Virgil, preserved in Fleury; the Republic
of Cicero, found in the library of Fleury in the tenth century, etc.[83]
In confirmation of the statement that the classics were by no
means neglected by the earlier monastery collectors, Montalembert
cites Alcuin, who enumerated among the books in his library at York
the works of Aristotle, Cicero, Pliny, Virgil, Statius, Lucan, and
Trogus Pompeïus. A further reference to this library will be found in
the chapter on the Monastery Schools. In Alcuin’s correspondence
with Charlemagne, he quotes Ovid, Horace, Terence, and Cicero,
and acknowledges that in his youth he had been more moved by the
tears of Dido than by the Psalms of David.[84] Loup de Ferrières
speaks of having borrowed from his friends the treatise De Oratore
of Cicero, a Commentary on Terence, the works of Quintilian,
Sallust, and Suetonius. He says further that he was occupying
himself in correcting the text of the oration of Cicero against Verres,
and that of Macrobius.[85] Abbot Didier of Monte Cassino, who later
became Pope, succeeding Gregory VII., had transcripts made by his
monks of the works of Horace and Seneca, of several treatises of
Cicero, and of the Fasti of Ovid.[86] S. Anselm, Abbot of Bec in the
time of Gregory VII., recommends to his pupils the careful study of
Virgil and of other profane writers, “omitting the licentious passages.”
Exceptis his in quibus aliqua turpitudo sonat.[87] It is not clear what
method the abbot proposed to have pursued in regard to the
selection of the passages to be eliminated. It is hardly probable that
at this time there had been prepared, either for the use of the monks
or of any other readers, anything in the form of expurgated editions.
S. Peter Damian seems to have expressed the true mind of an
important group at least of the churchmen of his time, when he
referred to the study of pagan writers. He says: “To study poets and
philosophers for the purpose of rendering the wit more keen and
better fitted to penetrate the mysteries of the Divine Word, is to spoil
the Egyptians of their treasures in order to build a tabernacle for
God.[88]”
Montalembert is of opinion, from his study of monastic history in
France, that, at least during the eleventh and twelfth centuries,
classic writers were probably more generally known and more
generally appreciated than at the present day. He points out that the
very fact of the existence of various ordinances and instructions
intended to repress any intemperate devotion to the pagan writers is
sufficient evidence of the extent of the interest in or passion for
pagan literature. He cites among other rulers of the Church who
issued protests or cautions against pagan literature, S. Basil, S.
Jerome, S. Gregory, S. Radbert, S. Peter Damian, Lanfranc, etc.,
etc.[89] In the Customs of Clugni, there is a curious passage
prescribing the different signs that were to be used in asking for
books during the hours of silence, which indicates at once the
frequency of these pagan studies, and also the grade of esteem in
which they ought to be held by the faithful monk. The general rule,
when asking for any book, was to extend the hand, making motions
similar to those of turning over the leaves. In order, however, to
indicate a pagan work, a monk was directed to scratch his ear as a
dog does, because, says the regulation, unbelievers may well be
compared to that animal.[90]
As before indicated, the work of transcribing manuscripts was held
under the monastic rules to be a full equivalent of manual labour in
the fields. The Rule of S. Ferreol, written in the sixth century, says
that, “He who does not turn up the earth with the plough ought to
write the parchment with his fingers.”[91] It is quite possible that for
men of the Middle Ages, who had little fondness for a sedentary life,
work in the scriptorium may have been a more exacting task than
work that could be carried on out-of-doors. There were no fires in the
cells of the monks, and in many portions of Europe the cold during
certain months of the year must, in the long hours of the day and
night, have been severe. Montalembert quotes a monk of St. Gall
who, on a corner of one of the beautiful manuscripts prepared in that
abbey, has left the words: “He who does not know how to write
imagines it to be no labour, but although these fingers only hold the
pen, the whole body grows weary.” It became, therefore, natural
enough to use this kind of labour as a penitential exercise.[92] Othlo,
a monk of Tegernsee, who was born in 1013, has left an
enumeration of the work of his pen which makes it difficult to
understand how years enough had been found for such labour. The
list includes nineteen missals, written and illuminated with his own
hand, the production of which, he tells us, nearly cost him his
eyesight.[93]
Dietrich or Theodoric, the first Abbot of St. Evroul (1050-1057),
who was himself a skilled scribe (Ipse manu propria scribendo
volumina plura), and who desired to incite his monks to earnest work
as writers, related to them the story of a worldly and sinful Brother,
who, notwithstanding his frivolities, was a zealous scribe, and who
had, in industrious moments, written out an enormous folio volume
containing religious instruction. When he died, the devil claimed his
soul. The angels, however, brought before the throne of judgment
the great book, and for each letter therein written, pardon was given
for one sin, and behold, when the count was completed, there was
one letter over; and, says Dietrich naïvely, it was a very big book.
Thereupon, judgment was given that the soul of the monk should be
permitted again to enter his body, in order that he might go through a
period of penance on earth.[94]
In the monastery of Wedinghausen, near Arnsberg in Westphalia,
there was a skilled and zealous scribe named Richard, an
Englishman, who spent many years in adding to the library of the
institution. Twenty years after his death, when the rest of his body
had crumbled into dust, the right hand, with which this holy work had
been accomplished, was found intact, and has since been preserved
under the altar as a holy relic.[95]
There has been more or less discussion as to whether in the
scriptoria, it was the practice for monks to write at dictation.
Knittel[96] takes the ground that the larger portion of the work was
done so slowly, and probably with such a different degree of rapidity
on the part of the different scribes, that it would have been as
impracticable for it to have been prepared under dictation as it would
be to do copper engraving under dictation. Ebert,[97] confirming
Knittel’s conclusions, points out that when works were needed in
haste, it was probably arranged to divide up the sheets to be copied
among a number of scribes. He finds evidence of this arrangement
of the work in a number of manuscripts, the different portions of
which, put together under one cover, are evidently the work of
different hands. Wattenbach specifies manuscripts in which not only
are the different pages in different script, but the divisions have been
written with varying arrangements of space; in some cases the
space, which had been left for an interpolated chapter having
evidently been wrongly measured, so that the script of such
interpolated chapter had to be crowded together instead of having
the same spacing as that of the body of the work. Sickel presents
examples of the letters of Alcuin which are evidently the work of a
number of scribes. Each began his work with a new letter, and
where, at the end of the divisions, leaves remained free, other letters
were later written in. In the later Middle Ages, however, there is
evidence of writing at dictation, and this practice began to obtain
more generally as the results of the work of the scribes came to have
commercial value. When the work of preparing manuscripts was
transferred from the monasteries to the universities, dictation
became the rule, and individual copying the exception. West finds
evidence that as early as the time of Alcuin, the monks trained by
him or in his schools, wrote from dictation. “In the intervals between
the hours of prayer and the observance of the round of cloister life,
come hours for the copying of books under the presiding direction of
Alcuin. The young monks file into the scriptorium and one of them is
given the precious parchment volume containing a work of Bede or
Isidore or Augustine, or else some portion of the Latin Scriptures, or
even a heathen author. He reads slowly and clearly at a measured
rate while all the others, seated at their desks, take down his words;
thus perhaps a score of copies are made at once. Alcuin’s observant
eye watches each in turn and his correcting hand points out the
mistakes in orthography and punctuation. The master of Charles the
Great, in that true humility that is the charm of his whole behaviour,
makes himself the writing-master of his monks, stooping to the
drudgery of faithfully and gently correcting many puerile mistakes,
and all for the love of studies and for the love of Christ. Under such
guidance and deeply impressed by the fact that in the copying of a
few books they were saving learning and knowledge from perishing,
and thereby offering a service most acceptable to God, the copying
in the scriptorium went on in sobriety from day to day. Thus were
produced those improved copies of books which mark the beginning
of a new age in the conserving and transmission of learning. Alcuin’s
anxiety in this regard was not undue, for the few monasteries where
books could be accurately transcribed were as necessary for
publication in that time as are the great publishing houses to-day.”[98]
Among the monasteries which, as early as the time of
Charlemagne, developed special literary activity, was that of S.
Wandrille, where the Abbot Gerwold (786-806) instituted one of the
earlier schools of the empire. A priest named Harduin took charge of
this school. He was said to be in hac arte non mediocriter doctus. It
was further stated that, plurima ecclesiæ nostræ proprio sudore
conscripta reliquit volumina, id est volumen quatuor evangeliorum
Romana litera scriptum.[99] (He had left for one church many books
written by the sweat of his brow, that is to say, a volume of the four
Evangelists written in the “Roman letter.”) This expression, litera
Romana, occurs frequently in the monastery chronicles and appears
to indicate the uncial script. The scriptorium of St. Gall, in which was
done some of the most elaborate or important of the earlier literary
work of the monks, is frequently referred to in the chronicles of the
monasteries. Another important scriptorium was that in the
monastery of Tournai, which, under the rule of the Abbot Odo, won
for itself great fame, so that its manuscripts were sought by the
Fathers of the Church far and wide, for the purpose of correcting by
them copies with less scholarly authority.[100]
The work of the scribes was not always voluntary; there is
evidence that it was not unfrequently imposed as a penance. In a
codex from Lorch[101] occur after the words, Jacob scripsit, written in
by another hand, the lines: Quandam partem hujus libri non
spontanea voluntate, sed coactus, compedibus constrictus sicut
oportet vagum atque fugitivum vincire.[102] (Jacob wrote ... a certain
portion of this book not of his own free will but under compulsion,
bound by fetters, just as a runaway and fugitive has to be bound.)
The aid of the students in the monastery schools was not
unfrequently called in. Fromund of Tegernsee wrote under a codex:
Cœpi hunc libellum, sed pueri nostri quos docui, meo juvamine
perscripserunt.[103] (I began this book, but the students whom I
taught, finished transcribing it with my help.)
The monk who was placed in charge of the armarium was called
the armarius, and upon him fell the responsibility of providing the
writing materials, of dividing the work, and probably also of
preserving silence while the work was going on, and of reprimanding
the writers of careless or inaccurate script. In some monasteries the
armarius must also have been the librarian, and, in fact, as much of
the work done in the writing-room was for the filling up of the gaps in
the library, it would be natural enough for the librarian to have the
planning of it. It was also the librarian, who, being in correspondence
with the custodians of the libraries of other monasteries, was best
able to judge what work would prove of service in securing new
books in exchange for duplicates of those in his own monastery.
Upon the librarius or armarius, or both, fell the responsibility of
securing the loans of the codices of which copies were to be made.
On such loans it was usually necessary to give security in the shape
of pledges either of other manuscripts or of property apart from
manuscripts.
The scribes were absolved from certain of the routine of the
monastery work. They were called into the fields or gardens only at
the time of harvest, or in case of special need. They had also the
privilege of visiting the kitchen, in order to polish their writing tablets,
to melt their wax, and to dry their parchment.[104]
The custom of reading at meals, while a part of the usual monastic
routine, was by no means confined to the monasteries. References
to the use of books at the tables of the more scholarly noblemen are
found as early as the time of Charlemagne. Eginhart records that
Charlemagne himself while at supper was accustomed to listen to
histories and the deeds of ancient kings. He delighted also in the
books of S. Augustine and especially in the Civitate Dei.[105]
In England, after the Norman conquest, there was for a time a
cessation of literary work in the Saxon monasteries. The Norman
ecclesiastics, however, in taking possession of certain of the older
monasteries and instituting also new monasteries of their own,
carried on the production of manuscripts with no less zeal. One of
the most important centres of literary activity in England was the
monastery of St. Albans, where the Abbot Paul secured, about the
year 1100, funds for instituting a scriptorium, and induced some
wealthy friends to present some valuable codices for the first work of
the scribes. As the monks at that time in St. Albans were not
themselves skilled in writing, Paul brought scribes from a distance,
and, through the liberality of his friends, secured funds by which they
were paid daily wages, and were able to work undisturbed. It would
appear from this description that some at least among these scribes
were not themselves monks.
In the thirteenth century, Matthew Paris compiled his chronicles,
the writing in which appears to have been, for the greater part at
least, done by his own hand, but at this time, in a large proportion of
the literary work carried on in the English monasteries, the
transcribing was done by paid scribes. This, however, was much less
the case in the Continental monasteries. In Corbie, towards the latter
half of the century, there is a record of zealous writing on the part of
a certain Brother Nevelo. Nevelo tells us that he had a penance to
work off for a grave sin, and that he was allowed to do this by work in
the scriptorium.[106] During this century, the monasteries of the
Carthusians were particularly active in their literary work, but this
work was limited almost entirely to theological and religious
undertakings. An exception is presented in the chronicles of the
Frisian monk Emo. While Emo was still a school-boy, he gave the
hours which his companions employed in play, to mastering
penmanship and the art of illuminating. Later, he was, with his
brother Addo, a student in the schools in Paris, Orleans, and Oxford,
and while in these schools, in addition to their work as students, they
gave long hours of labour, extending sometimes through the entire
night, to the transcribing of chronicles and to the preparation of
copies of the so-called heathen literature.
Emo was the first abbot of the monastery in Wittewierum (1204-
1237), and it is recorded that the abbot, while his brothers were
sleeping, devoted his nights to the writing and illuminating of the
choir books. In this monastery, Emo succeeded in bringing together
in the armarium librorum an important collection of manuscripts, and
he took pains himself to give instructions to the monks in their work
as scribes.
The quaint monastic record entitled the Customs of Clugni was
written by Ulrich, a monk of Clugni, some time between the years
1077 and 1093 at the request or under the instructions of William,
Abbot of Hirschau. This was the Abbot William extolled by Trithemius
as having restored the Order of S. Benedict, which had almost fallen
into ruin in Germany. Trithemius speaks of his having founded eight
monasteries and restored more than one hundred, and says that
next to the reformation wrought by the foundation and influence of
Clugni, the work done by Abbot William was the most important
recorded in the annals of his Order.
William trained twelve of his monks to be excellent writers, and to
these was committed the office of transcribing the Holy Scriptures
and the treatises of the Fathers. Besides these, there were in the
scriptorium of Hirschau a large number of lesser scribes, who
wrought with equal diligence in the transcription of other books. In
charge of the scriptorium was placed a monk “well versed in all kinds
of knowledge,” whose business it was to assign the task for each
scribe and to correct the mistakes of those who wrote negligently.
William was Abbot of Hirschau for twenty-two years, and during this
time his monks wrote a great many volumes, a large proportion of
which were distributed to supply the wants of other and more needy
monasteries.
There was often difficulty, particularly in the less wealthy
monasteries, in securing the parchment required for their work. It is
evident from such account-books as have been preserved, that
throughout the whole of Europe, but particularly in the north of the
Continent and in England, parchment continued to be a very costly
commodity until quite late in the thirteenth century. It was not
unnatural that, as a result of this difficulty, the monastic scribes
should, when pressed for material, have occasionally utilised some
old manuscript by cleaning off the surface, for the purpose of making
a transcript of the Scriptures, of some saintly legend, or of any other
religious work the writing of which came within the range of their
daily duty.
There has been much mourning on the part of the scholars over
the supposed value of precious classics which may thus have been
destroyed, or of which but scanty fragments have been preserved in
the lower stratum of the palimpsest. Robertson is particularly severe
upon the ignorant clumsiness of the monks in thus destroying, for the
sake of futile legends, so much of the great literature of the world.
Among other authors, Robertson quotes in this connection
Montfaucon as saying that the greater part of the manuscripts on
parchment which he had seen (those of an ancient date excepted),
are written on parchment from which some former treatise had been
erased. Maitland, who is of opinion that the destruction of ancient
literature brought about by the monks has been much overestimated,
points out that Robertson has not quoted Montfaucon correctly, the
statement of the latter being expressly limited to manuscripts written
since the “twelfth century.” It is Maitland’s belief that a large
proportion of the palimpsests or doubly written manuscripts which
bear date during the twelfth, thirteenth, or fourteenth centuries,
represent, as far as they are monastic at all, not monastery writings
placed upon classic texts, but monastery work replacing earlier
works of the monastery scriptoria. Partial confirmation of this view is
the fact that so large an interest was taken by monks in all parts of
Europe in the preservation and transcribing of such classical works
as came into their hands. In fact, as previously pointed out, the
preservation of any fragments whatsoever of classical literature is
due to the intelligent care of the monks. To the world outside of the
monastery, the old-time manuscripts were, with hardly an exception,
little more than dirty parchments.
It seems probable that a great part of such scraping of old
manuscripts as was done was not due to the requirements of the
legends or missals, but was perpetrated in order to carry on the
worldly business of secular men. An indication of the considerable
use of parchment for business purposes, and of instances of what
we should to-day call its abuse, is the fact that, as late as the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, notaries were forbidden to practise
until they had taken an oath to use none but new parchment.[107]
The belief that the transcribing of good books was in itself a
protection against the wiles of the evil one, naturally added to the
feeling of regard in which the writer held his work, a feeling under the
influence of which it became not unusual to add at the close of the
manuscript an anathema against any person who should destroy or
deface it. A manuscript of St. Gall contains the following:
 Auferat hunc librum nullus hinc omne per ævum
Cum Gallo partem quisquis habere cupit.[108]

[Let no one through all ages who wishes to have any part with
Gallus (the Saint or the Abbey) remove (or purloin) this book.]
In a Sacramentary of the ninth century given to St. Bénoît-sur-
Loire, the donor, having sent the volume as a present from across
seas, devotes to destruction like to that which came upon Judas,
Ananias, and Caiaphas any person who should remove the book
from the monastery.[109] In a manuscript of S. Augustine, now in the
Bodleian Library is written: “This book belongs to S. Mary of Robert’s
Bridge; whosoever shall steal it or sell it, or in any way alienate it
from this house, or mutilate it, let him be anathema maranatha.
Amen.” A later owner had found himself sufficiently troubled by this
imprecation to write beneath: “I, John, Bishop of Exeter, know not
where the aforesaid house is, nor did I steal this book, but acquired it
in a lawful way.”[110]
In an exhortation to his monks, delivered in 1486, by John of
Trittenheim (or Trithemius), Abbot of Sponheim, the abbot, after
rebuking the monks for their sloth and negligence, goes on to say: “I
have diminished your labours out of the monastery, lest by working
badly you should only add to your sins; and have enjoined on you
the manual labour of writing and binding books.... There is, in my
opinion, no labour more becoming a monk than the writing of
ecclesiastical books, and preparing what is needful for others who
write them, for this holy labour will generally admit of being
interrupted by prayer and of watching for the food of the soul no less
than of the body. Need also urges us to labour diligently in writing
books if we desire to have at hand the means of usefully employing
ourselves in spiritual studies. For you will recall that all the library of
this monastery, which formerly was so fine and complete, had been
dissipated, sold, and made away with by the disorderly monks before
us, so that when I came here, I found but fourteen volumes. It is true
that the industry of the printing art, lately, in our own day, discovered
at Mentz, produces many volumes every day; but depressed as we
are by poverty, it is impossible for us to buy them all.”[111]
It was certainly the case that, after the invention of printing, there
was a time during which manuscripts came to be undervalued,
neglected, and even destroyed by wholesale, but Maitland is of
opinion that this time had been prepared for by a long period of
gradually increasing laxity of discipline and morals in many monastic
institutions. This view is borne out by the history of the Reformation,
the popular feeling in regard to which was undoubtedly very much
furthered by the demoralisation of the monasteries, a demoralisation
which naturally carried with it a breaking down of literary interests
and pursuits. There had, for some time, been less multiplication, less
care, and less use of books, and many a fine collection had
mouldered away. According to Martene and Mabillon, the destruction
due to the heedlessness of the monks themselves was largely a
matter of the later times, that is, of the fifteenth century and the last
half of the fourteenth century.
Maitland is of the opinion that in the later portions of the Middle
Ages the work of the monastic scribes was more frequently carried
on not in a general writing-room, but in separate apartments or cells,
which were not usually large enough to contain more than one
person. Owing to the fact that writing was the chief and almost only
in-doors business of a monk not engaged in religious service, and
because of the great quantity of work that was done and the number
of cells devoted to it, these small rooms came to be generally
referred to as scriptoria, even when not actually used or particularly
intended for the purpose of writing. Thus we are told that Arnold,
Abbot of Villers in Brabant, from 1240 to 1250, when he resigned his
office, occupied a scriptorium (he called it a scriptoriolum or little
writing cell), where he lived as a private person in his own
apartment.[112] These separate cells were usually colder and in other
ways less comfortable than the common scriptorium. Lewis, a monk
of Wessobrunn in Bavaria, in an inscription addressed to the reader,
in a copy he had prepared of Jerome’s Commentary on Daniel, says:
Dum scripsit friguit, et quod cum lumine solis scribere non potuit,
perfecit lumine noctis.[113] (He was stiff with cold, while he wrote,
and what he could not write by the light of the sun, he completed by
the light of night.) There is evidence, however, in some of the better
equipped monasteries, of the warming of the cells by hot air from the
stove in the calefactory. Martene mentions that when S. Bernard,
owing to the illness produced by his early austerities, was compelled
by the Bishop of Chalons to retire to a cell, he could not be
persuaded to relax the severity of his asceticism so far as to permit
the introduction of any fireplace or other means of warming it. His
friends, however, contrived, with pious fraud, to heat his cell without
his knowledge, by introducing hot air through the stone floor under
the bed.[114]
The scriptorium of earlier times was, however, as previously
described, an apartment specially set aside as a general workroom
and capable of containing many workers, and in which many
persons did, in fact, work together, usually under the direction of a
librarius or chief scribe, in a very business-like manner, in the
transcription of books. Maitland quotes from a document, which is,
he states, one of the very few existing specimens of French
Visigothic manuscripts in the uncial character, and which dates from
the eighth century, the following form of consecration or benediction,
entitled (in monastic Latin) Orationem in scriptorio: “Vouchsafe, O
Lord, to bless this scriptorium of Thy servants and all that work
therein: that whatsoever sacred writings shall be here read or written
by them, they may receive with understanding and may bring the
same to good effect.”[115] (see also page 61).
In the more carefully constructed monasteries, the scriptorium was
placed to adjoin the calefactory, which simplified the problem of the
introduction of hot air.
A further evidence, if such were needed, that the larger literary
undertakings were carried on in a scriptorium common room and not
in separate cells, is given by the regulation of the general Chapter of
the Cistercian Order in 1134, which directs that the same silence
should be maintained in the scriptorium as in the cloister: In omnibus
scriptoriis ubicunque ex consuetudine monachi scribunt, silentium
teneatur sicut in claustro.[116]
 Odo, who in 1093 became Abbot of S. Martin at Tournai, writes
that he confided the management of the outside work of the
monastery to Ralph, the prior. This left the abbot free to devote
himself to reading and to supervising the work in his scriptorium.
Odo exulted in the number of writers whom the Lord had given to
him. “If you had gone into the cloister during the working hours, you
would have seen a dozen scribes writing, in perfect silence, at tables
constructed for the purpose.” Odo caused to be transcribed all of
Jerome’s Commentaries on the Prophets, all the works of S.
Gregory, and all the works that he could find of S. Augustine, S.
Ambrose, Bishop Isidore, the Venerable Bede, and Anselm, then
Abbot of Bec and afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. Odo’s
successor, Heriman, who gives this account, says with pride that
such a library as Odo brought together in S. Martin could hardly be
paralleled in any monastery in the country, and that other
monasteries were begging for texts from S. Martin’s with which to
collate and correct their own copies.[117]
Maitland mentions that certain of the manuscripts written in Odo’s
scriptorium, including the fourth volume of the Gregorialis of Alulfus,
were (in 1845) in the library of Dr. Todd, of Trinity College,
Dublin.[118]
In estimating the extent of book production of the manuscript
period, we may very easily place too large a comparative weight on
the productive power of the Press. Maitland points out that although
the power of multiplication of literary productions was, of course,
during the Dark Ages infinitely below that which now exists, and
while the entire book production of the two periods may not be
compared, yet as regards those books which were considered as the
standard works in sacred literature and in the approved secular
literature, the difference was not so extreme as may easily be
supposed. He enquires, to emphasise his point, what proportion the
copies of Augustine’s City of God and of Gregory’s Morals, printed
between the years 1700 and 1800, bear to those written between the
years 1100 and 1200.[119]
 I think, with Maitland, that, according to the evidence on record, for
books such as those given above as typical examples, the written
production during the century selected would probably have
exceeded the number of copies of the same books turned out by the
printing-presses during the eighteenth century. We must recall to
ourselves that for a term of six or seven centuries, writing was a
business, and was also a religious duty; an occupation taken up by
choice and pursued with a degree of zeal, persistence, and
enthusiasm for which in the present day there is no parallel.
Mabillon speaks of a volume by Othlonus, a monk of S.
Emmeram’s at Ratisbon, who was born about the year 1013. In this
book, which is entitled De ipsius tentationibus, varia fortuna, et
scriptis, the monk gives an account of his literary labours and of the
circumstances which led to his writing the various works bearing his
name.
“For the same reason, I think proper to add an account of the great
knowledge and capacity for writing which was given me by the Lord
in my childhood. When as yet a little child, I was sent to school and
quickly learned my letters, and I began, long before the usual time of
learning and without any order from the master, to learn the art of
writing. Undertaking this in a furtive and unusual manner, and
without any teacher, I got a habit of holding my pen wrongly, nor
were any of my teachers afterwards able to correct me on that point;
for I had become too much accustomed to it to be able to change.
Those who saw my earlier work unanimously decided that I should
never write well. After a short time the facility came to me, and while
I was in the monastery of Tegernsee (in Bavaria) I wrote many
books.... Being sent to Franconia while I was yet a boy, I worked so
hard at writing that before I returned I had nearly lost my sight....
After I became a monk in the monastery of S. Emmeram, I was
appointed the schoolmaster. The duties of this office so fully
occupied my time, that I was able to do the transcribing in which I
was interested only by night and on holidays.... I was, however, able,
in addition to writing the books which I had myself composed, and
the copies of which I gave away for the edification of those who
asked for them, to prepare nineteen missals (ten for the abbots and