The question of leadership of the Jews of Judaea/Palaestina after the fall of the Temple in 70 c.e. has historically directed scholars towards two groups of interest: the rabbis of Yavneh and the nesi'im, the latter clearly evident from the second century. Two recent doctoral dissertations (Oxford and Yale), now published, seek to offer some new thinking on the character of that leadership.

Junghwa Choi's work takes its place among the recent challengers to the notion (which goes back to Heinrich Graetz in the nineteenth century) of a straightforward post-70 transition of Jewish leadership to the Rabbinate. The challenge requires an alternative, and this study undertakes an exploration of the ‘leadership dynamics’ of the neglected period up to 135 c.e. Two areas in particular are examined here: ‘biblically modelled’ leadership and the collectivity of second- and first-century types evident in the period leading up to 70. The engagement of Rome prompts reflection on Roman models of government in the same period (1). C. reviews current thinking on the Patriarchate as envisaged by Goodman, Goodblatt and Schwartz (12–16) but he contends that the pre-Patriarchal period has something to offer. The point is well made, and, taking the enquiry further, C. identifies seven Jewish ‘models’ of leadership and five ‘Roman’. All cautious scholars on the period must take a position on rabbinic testimony and C. does too: ‘Above all, every issue or tradition should be dealt with separately from the others’ (21). The Jewish types follow: the ‘kingly’, ‘priestly’, ‘High Priestly’, ‘warrior’, ‘learned’, ‘prophetic’ and ‘messianic’. The ‘Roman’ models consist of the civic, the village, client kingship, coloniae and direct military rule. The apparently discreet models intersect, however (see the figure on 114); the same evidence is deployed repeatedly and some readers may lose confidence in the interesting but rather mechanistic taxonomy. Naturally, the exploration of the extent to which these types are detectable in the period 70–135 c.e., to which C. turns at 153, reveals — where it can be glimpsed — hints of most of those evident in the years before 70 (the Herods and the High Priests are notable losers). The evidence is, of course, thin and problematic, and illumination is patchy or allusive: C. rightly admits to the speculative character of the analysis (184): ‘Admittedly, this reconstruction is based more on plausibility than concrete evidence, but when no concrete evidence is available, sound speculation is a permissible exercise’ (183, cf. 190 on ‘prophetic leadership’ post-70). With the nesi'im the ground is a little firmer and C. has important observations to make on the nasi as deriving pre-eminence from indigenous structures of power rather than being assured legitimacy by Rome (203–4 and contra Goodblatt). At the same time, the ubiquity of Roman law as a problem-resolving resource is stressed, a vivid manifestation of the culmination of Rome's progression from ‘right person to right system’ in the pre- and post-70 period. The greatest threat to the system, the revolt of Simeon bar Kokhba, saw the rebel leader claim what C. speculates as a ‘pre-Temple’ interpretation of the title nasi (209–10).

The thrust of the book is directed towards the important contention that the fall of the Temple left the Jews with a variety of concepts of leadership. In itself, this idea is an important one for post-Graetzian scholarship. But one should have no illusions about the evidence. It hardly reveals clear or persistent patterns, and in order to conduct his study C. has had to impose a conceptual structure of his own, founded on significant speculation that arguably does not always fit well. It is the unpredictability of leaders in claiming all kinds of legitimacy simultaneously that makes the period so compelling.

In places, C.'s energy seems to flag a little: the reader is referred to E. P. Sanders, Judaism: Practice and Belief (1992) in toto for priests owning land (58 n. 108) and at 60 n. 119: ‘For Josephus’ career see Vita'. BJ 2.261–3 reports the intention of ‘the Egyptian’ to break into Jerusalem; not its realization. Agrippa I did attend the so-called ‘conference of kings’; Marsus scattered a meeting that was already underway (142, AJ 19.338–42).

Overall, the study poses a legitimate and intelligent question and is a very useful reminder that we can leap too quickly to the identification of continuities, ignoring the débris of disaster.

Alan Appelbaum is more narrowly focused on the leadership of the Jewish Patriarch. Were the nesi'im a dynamic phenomenon, expanding their power steadily over time (à la Seth Schwartz) or were they only laterally powerful, emerging in the late third and early fourth centuries as Jewish manifestations of the late Roman courtier (Martin Goodman)? A. offers a new perspective here by examining them as a dynastic phenomenon. From the outset, he is prepared to challenge orthodoxies: Goodblatt's identification of Gamaliel I as the first nasi and appointed by Rome is repudiated (16–20); A.'s attention turns to R. Judah I by way of a courageous evaluation of rabbinic literature as a resource for the modern historian where he is not shy of deploying the ‘criterion of dissimilarity’, enshrined in Patristics, to the material (29). His investigation, well informed by the most recent scholarship, is careful and his judgements measured, and he concludes that Judah I is indeed the Patriarch of the Jews but in the position's earliest manifestation as Patriarch of the Rabbis (49). What follows takes on a sharp diachronic character as A. proceeds to advance his main thesis that the Patriarchs were a dynasty. He sees himself as taking up Schwartz's call for ‘a non-institutional history of the patriarchs’ and offers ‘both a narrative of continuity and change in the Patriarchate and insights into its structure to emerge in the context of the lives and careers of real men’ (52). He seeks to go beyond Schwartz, however, in revealing the Patriarchate to be far from an accidental dynasty but rather a more formalized one. The nature of succession is explored, and a conceptualized ‘dynasty’ defined which transcends primogeniture. The roll-call of Patriarchs that follows — some more speculatively identified than others — locates in biographical context some of the most important episodes cited by the ‘institutional’ historians: the first sending of apostoloi (73); Judah Nesiah's claim to the succession of kings and High Priests (86) and his expansion of the financial resources of the position. This rise brought contact with Rome and A. proceeds to the accommodation that Patriarch and Emperor established (the investigation necessarily requires a softening of some of the strong sceptical line adopted earlier towards rabbinic evidence, cf. 93 and 42–4). CJ 3.13.3 from 293 c.e. attracts close analysis as an apparent imperial intervention in the jurisdiction of the Patriarch over Jewish/rabbinical courts. The orthodox interpretation of the episode and the text as evidence of Roman recognition of the Patriarch is overturned (109–10). In matters of law, A. is worth reading closely, not least because he has thirty-five years of professional legal practice behind him (122 n. 24). With the advent of a Christian emperor, the ‘lobbying’ talents of the dynasty acquired a new importance with the Patriarchs — much as prominent pagans must have done — conceding ground to some hostile laws and resisting or softening others. Under Hillel II, Davidic descent now appeared in the Patriarch's pedigree but evidence emerges, too, of diminishing Jewish loyalty to him: unrest in Sepphoris, appeals to the pagan Libanius and the admonition of the emperor Julian over the depredations of the apostole (147). With Gamaliel V the worldliest ambitions of Judah Nesiah were realized, albeit only in the East drifting away from the West (163) but the 390s witnessed a faltering of the Patriarch's influence: the evidence shows highs of formal imperial protection against insult (CTh 16.8.11), but a waning influence with his own people. The most enigmatic of the Patriarchs, and also the last, was Gamaliel VI. A. participates in the long-running debate over the excessus of the Patriarch sometime between 415 and 429 and offers something new in identifying one ‘Annas Didascalus’ (CTh 16.9.3 and 16.9.23) as ‘Rabbi Annas’/‘R. Hananiah ‘II’’, as a candidate for leadership but one who did not win the status of Patriarch. The apparent hiatus was never restored, leaving the Jews after 416 with less powerful voices at the centre of power and the Patriarchate abrogated.

A.'s book is a sophisticated and well-researched study. He is refreshingly a man of the world (I cannot think — or indeed imagine — Spinal Tap and L.A. Law being so well deployed in support of academic argument anywhere else). Some may feel constricted by the narrowness of the study, however. Its forensic discipline in drawing a distinction between itself and the ‘monarchic principle’ of David Goodblatt keeps it from delving into broader issues. Having answered the call of others and identified this Patriarchal ‘dynasty’, how should the discovery influence our understanding of Judaism much more generally? We get only a tantalizing paragraph on p. 186. If A. is generous enough to pursue the question, his answers will be worth waiting for.