New questions about an ancient tale of Jewish defiance–and about the uses of archaeology
By Betsy Carpenter
Stand atop the wind-swept plateau known as Masada, and you can almost picture the last desperate hours of the Jewish rebels who retreated there after the Romans burned Jerusalem in A.D. 70. For two years, the freedom fighters harried the Romans from this mountain redoubt near the Dead Sea. But then the 10th Legion constructed huge siege walls around Masada and built a massive earthen ramp up the plateau's western side. The night before the final assault, the Jews faced an awful choice: Deliver their families to the tender mercies of the legionnaires below, or commit collective suicide.
After an impassioned speech by their leader, Elazar Ben-Yair, the decision was made: suicide. Each of the rebels lay down beside his family. [...] At dawn, the Romans poured through Masada's breached walls, only to discover 960 corpses--mute testimony to the Jews' final act of defiance.
Higher truth? This tale of courageous resistance gained an international audience in the early 1960s when Yigael Yadin, Israel's most celebrated archaeologist, excavated the Masada site. His detailed documentation of the story, first told by the first-century Jewish historian Josephus Flavius, cemented Masada as a potent symbol of the fledgling state's resolve in the face of its many enemies. But now an Israeli scholar is raising questions about Yadin's account.
In a new book, Sacrificing Truth: Archaeology and the Myth of Masada (Prometheus Books), Nachman Ben-Yehuda, a professor in the department of sociology and anthropology at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, accuses Yadin, who died in 1984, of deliberately distorting his findings to "provid[e] Israelis with a spurious historical narrative of heroism." Yadin ignored damning information about the rebels, Ben-Yehuda charges, pointing out that they belonged to a radical sect known for assassinating both Romans and Jews.
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Nor did Yadin own up to the dark side of Masada's defenders. According to Josephus, the rebels belonged to a Jewish sect known as the Sicarii, from the Greek word for dagger. During the battle for Jerusalem, they had gained notoriety for killing not just Romans but also moderate Jews--whom they viewed as collaborators. Josephus also wrote that Masada's Sicarii massacred over 700 women and children in the nearby town of Ein Gedi. Yet Yadin described the rebels as defenders or patriots.
"That was a mistake," acknowledges Lawrence Schiffman, chair of New York University's department of Hebrew and Judaic studies. But giving a partial picture, he says, is different from "sitting around and thinking of ways to fake-up a story." Magness agrees that Yadin didn't deliberately distort evidence. But she concedes that his nationalism "colored" his interpretations. Adds Ehud Netzer, a Hebrew University archaeologist who helped excavate Masada, "I don't think this deserves such attention 30 years later."
Yadin isn't the only national icon getting a closer look these days. Israel is in the midst of a broader reassessment of its Zionist past. This questioning extends to those first archaeologists, like Yadin, who hoped to provide pioneers with heroic tales or document Zionist settlers' claims to the land. As for Masada, Ben-Yehuda doesn't deny the power of the place. But for him, it is no longer a symbol of courageous resolve but a cautionary tale of the consequences of extremism: "Never get trapped on a mountain with no good options," he says. "Instead, make alliances; negotiate your way."
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