umbilicus mundi

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Mediterranean Studies combine approaches from history, archaeology, anthropology, literature, political science, religious, and environmental studies to explore the region as a space of exchange, conflict, and cultural blending. What I put under this label is a transhistorical kind of reflection on the crossroad of religious credos, trade routes, ideas, and civilisations. I am interested in the complex cultural and intellectual interplay in the region; the Mediterranean studies, in my personal view, primarily consist in analysing the phenomena of circulation. I treat them essentially as a branch of the history of ideas, quite a central one in my perspective.
My Mediterranean is a region of constant interpenetration between the Arabic-Muslim and the Romance-Christian elements, without forgetting other contributions, such as, for instance, the Jewish and Berber presence, the specificity of the Balkans, the Turks, the opening toward the Central Asia, the connectivity of trans-Saharan roads. The Mediterranean is a region of major cultural complexity, unique in the scale of the planet as a space of exchange and creative encounter. The sea and the territories distributed on its shores form a great umbilicus mundi. As a consequence, the Mediterranean perspective is absolutely at the core of my whole intellectual project. As such, it cannot be reduced neither to my interest in Romance cultural heritage nor to any form of Islamic or Orientalist studies, on which I am also spending a lot of my time, but which I treat as quite a separate, subsidiary circle of topics. 
For more than a decade, I have been trying to approach the Mediterranean specificity through a wide range of topics that may appear, at the first glance, as totally unrelated. Nonetheless, the Mediterranean journey of Adelard of Bath, leading to a book dedicated to falconry, and the Oriental project of Guillaume Postel, leading to a grammar of Arabic, are in fact closely connected in the same project of Arabica studia that, largely due to maverick individuals on the margin of institutions and orthodoxies of their times, constituted a transmission belt bringing new ideas to Europe for several centuries, from late Middle Ages and the dawn of the Modern Age. The aim of putting in evidence such connections is still in front of me, as I slowly progress towards my own Summa Mediterranea that I see and work for as one of the utopian, culminating books of my academic life. 

For nearly a decade (2006-2016), I was teaching in a program of the so-called "Mediterranean civilisation" at the University of Warsaw, constantly clashing against the dominant Islamophobia, characterising both the faculty and the Polish society in general. What they (both students and professors) wanted to imagine, think about and study was a sort of relaxing and attractive continuation of Antiquity, that might eventually reach, let's say, the contemporary Spain, but determined to ignore the sheer existence of other cultural elements in the region and the whole range of problems related to them. No wonder that I ended up by resigning, while my colleagues continue there, discussing such topics as the Mediterranean landscape (sic!). During my Varsovian years, I also collaborated with the Orientalist faculty, but overall, in any of these academic circles at the time, the study of the 19th-century travel writing was one of the highlights. The research project dedicated to a travelogue of the Polish Romantic poet Juliusz Słowacki, in which I also participated, was typical for that range of interests. That is of course very modest for me, very far from what Mediterranean studies may and should be. The reader should thus understand how, in this context, my vision of the area was experienced as something personal. Although, objectively speaking, my understanding of it is not, most probably, as idiosyncratic as I once believed.
Quite naturally, my Mediterranean studies got quite a new impetus as soon as I found myself out of Poland. In 2017/2018, I was a Marie-Curie fellow in France, working on a project dedicated to the search for Adamic language, the primary, ideal speech of the humanity. This topic exemplifies fully what kind of research I would gladly put under the Mediterranean label. The medieval and early-modern speculations on Adamic language (lingua adamica, the tongue spoken in the Garden of Eden) are related both to the question of paradisaical origins of man and the essential unity of the human kind. According to some medieval and early-modern authors, the primordial speech was first of all a divine language, the tongue in which God addressed Adam; according to others, Adam appeared as its inventor, playing a crucial role as the “nomothete” (the name-giver). Be as it may, according to the biblical narration, this primordial language had been lost in the episode of the “confusion of tongues” (confusio linguarum) as the result of the sacrilegious attempt of constructing the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1-9). Since the early Middle Ages, the question of the primordial language formed a cross-road between the Christian thought and the traditions of the other monotheistic religions, Judaism and Islam, that tried to answer it in their own way. The Islamic thought created its own notion of suryāniyya, the oldest human language, as well as the spiritual language common to angels and some chosen saints; some of its letters and words are contained in the Quran; some traces of this tongue were also supposed to be found in the early infantile speech. These speculations provoked a reaction among the Jewish theologians and thinkers, who defended that Hebrew, not Arabic, was in fact the language of Adam. This opinion was partially shared in the Christian context, contributing to the development of the study of oriental languages and later on, to the birth of the early-modern philology. This aspiration can be exemplified already in the second half of the 13th century with the figure of Ramon Llull, and more fully, in the endeavours of the 16th-century polymath Guillaume Postel. The author of Absconditorum a constitutione mundi clavis (1547) believed that Hebrew is an indispensable tool for the perfect understanding of the Holy Scriptures, but also much more than this: the language of mystical unity of man and God, as well as the key binding together all the things in the created world.  The hypothesis of its possible recuperation, be it by some chosen individuals, communities or the humanity as a whole, became an important nexus of the Utopian thought that, starting from the recuperation of the “proper”, primordial speech, progressed toward more and more generalised visions of restitution. Recuperating the paradisaical condition, man might become able of creating a perfect, universal society and a single state of global dimensions, offering peace, justice and stability to everyone.
The search for the Adamic language, a fascinating historical topic in itself, is still subsidiary for my forthcoming project of "Poetics of the Void", dealing with even larger outlook, leading to the contemporary Utopia, if we want to think in these terms, of the transcultural becoming of man.