Frith is a northern European concept that’s almost exclusively discussed in the realm of Asatru. It’s such an important value that it’s time to bring it out of the pagan fringe and back into mainstream European culture.
In Old Norse, frith (friðr) means “peace,” specifically the security, peace, and happiness found in one’s family and community. It’s not so much that it means peace, but if you practice the obligation of frith, peace and stability in your family are the natural outgrowths of your actions. It creates an “inviolable sense of unity and solidarity” (Grönbech II 170).
The practice of frith boils down to caring for the welfare of others: providing for others (materially and emotionally), not doing anything to actively harm them, and taking on their battles as your own. Frith can take the form of providing a house and clothing for your children, being supportive of your spouse, driving an elderly relative on an errand, helping a neighbor with a home repair, or teaching a skill you know to a friend. It also implies not harming those in your community, which means not physically harming them, but also not lying about people, spreading gossip or slander, not undermining them or manipulating them, not stealing from them, and the like. It was a solidarity that “makes one body and one soul of the kinsmen” (Grönbech 349). Marriage can generate frith between families, and women were often in the role of frithweavers both in the home and community. Historically, frith included enacting revenge for those harmed as well.
In the Norse concept of frith, the most consideration goes to your closest kin. The next-most frith is owed to close friends and extended family, and less is owed to the community as a whole. Hardly any frith is owed to strangers, which doesn’t mean to harm them; only that they’re not your responsibility. The closeness and security that underlie frith would be impossible to have with someone unknown. Frith extends to nature as well, such as caring for the welfare of your pets and the land you own. Frith was extended to leaders and also to the gods, and was especially important for houseguests.
The Historical Necessity of Frith
In pre-modern society, community is necessary for survival, but even more so in the harsh conditions of northern Europe. People had to collaborate with kin and tribe in order to successfully hunt, farm, build a house, or care for children. For the less fortunate, there were no government programs or welfare state to fall back on. A troublemaker or backstabber in the family mix could cause so much strife that the life of the entire tribe was endangered. Thus, with every action, a person was to consider how it would affect the well-being of his family and community.
A person’s word and honor was tied to his family: “Before a court of law, the individual’s oath was valid only in as far as it carried with it the will of a whole family, and had therefore regularly to be supported by a circle of ‘compurgators’ who confirmed with their conviction the assertion of the one who swore as principal” (Grönbech 353). Thus, being on bad terms with family could mean possible punishment or death. Such was created a system where checks and balances were placed on all members of a tribe to keep frith, to some extent at least.
At the same time, there were other enforced values—like courage, honor, truthfulness, hard work, and reliability—that made dealing with one’s clan a bit easier. Today’s version of a deadbeat uncle simply wouldn’t be allowed to be passed out in the mead hall day after day. A materialistic woman wouldn’t be allowed to spend away all the family’s wealth. It’s true that mistakes were made and people still had emotional problems, but unlike today, there was a system in place to help ensure that unstable individuals weren’t able to destroy the lives of others. And if they did, you could take revenge.
Frith and Vengeance
It’s almost never mentioned in modern descriptions, but frith was closely tied to revenge. When men formed a friendship of absolute solidarity, they might seal it by promising “to act and avenge as were it son or brother” (Grönbech 361).
Much of Chapter 1, Frith, in Vilhelm Grönbech’s 1909 The Culture of the Teutons details the importance of vengeance to Norse culture. One example is the story of Thora, daughter of Sigmund Brestison. Sigmund is murdered, the attack having been led by his bitterest opponent, Thrond of Gata. One day Thrond calls on the widow to ask for Thora’s hand in marriage for his foster son. Thora accepts on the condition that her father’s murder is avenged, and after the wedding she “has her reward in seeing three men killed in honour of her father” (Grönbech 25).
It wasn’t just murder that warranted a revenge killing. Words were so important that certain slanderous statements meant the only justice could be had by blood.
Th emphasis on revenge shouldn’t be seen as a manifestation of the brutal, stereotypical Viking personality. It was a psychological necessity in a time when honor was paramount, and another way of taking care of the welfare of one’s kin.
Frith and the Golden Mean
Frith should be balanced with the other Norse virtues. So it’s optimal to help out extended relatives, but not if it means you’re neglecting your own family. Family closeness is encouraged, but not when family gossip devolves to slander and a disregard for truth. Fidelity is desired, but not at the expense of independence and self-reliance. Hospitality is a fundamental Norse virtue, but not when it’s arrived at by guilting a host or when guests overstay their welcome. Aristotle’s Golden Mean applies to frith just like every other value.
Frith, Bad Ørlǫg, and Abusive Families
In an ideal world we love our families and stay close to our parents, children, siblings, and extended family throughout our entire lives. This is the great value of frith—by treating people well, we’ll always have a large and loving tribe looking out for us in return.
But sometimes events occur that “break frith,” when someone does something that negatively affects your welfare. Disagreements don’t break frith; in fact, they can be necessary for the evolution and strengthening of relationships. But abusive people treat family and friends worse than they’d treat a stranger or acquaintance. When someone treats a clan member with disrespect, demands, slander, dishonesty, or manipulation, it breaks the frith and generates “bad ørlǫg,” which Greg Shetler says is similar to bad moral karma.
Our fate (wyrd in the Anglo-Saxon culture) is dependent upon our ørlǫg (and also partly on luck and fortune). This bad karma can affect the entire family. An alcoholic can destroy his family financially and emotionally, and destroy the ability of the next generation to live full and successful lives. The Norse were obviously aware of what today we call the cycle of abuse, and worked to prevent this type of curse from affecting them. This is why you should not only practice frith, but instill the concept of frith in your children as well.
In the Norse world, a family might kick someone out for breaking frith, realizing the clan would be better off without him (the person is then pronounced a niding). The Germanization of the Sermon on the Mount states: “Go not with the kinsman who leads to sin, to wrong, though he be never so closely thy kinsman; better to cast him aside, to abhor him, and lay waste love in the heart, that one may rise alone to the high heaven” (Grönbech 51).
Grönbech’s Culture of the Teutons describes how one bad apple can spoil the barrel:
As long as the strength is turned outwards and does not attack the unassailable frith and honour, the clan has no choice save between defending the unruly members and cutting them off from itself, and a healthy stock will be slow to bleed itself. As long as the undertakings of the individual are inspired by the honour and “fate” that is within him, and his ambition is the prolongation of his ancestors’ deeds, he can let himself go and drag his kinsmen along with him. Frith lays the kinsmen at the mercy of the individual — and his initiative. He can screw up honour as far as he pleases; the others have no choice but to follow; they cannot force him down, they have nothing to trust to against him beyond the power of words to persuade; they may try to talk him over, but if he be not amenable to reason, then they are obliged to enter into his undertakings and make themselves participants both in the responsibility and in the risk. The fact of his being a part of the soul himself enables him to coerce the whole soul. The man who has a tenfold or hundredfold soul not only possesses an inner strength that is lacking in a man whose life is confined to his own single body, but he also has deeper opportunities of becoming a rich and many-sided character.
In today’s polarized and fragile world we don’t depend on others so much for survival or honor. Yet frith can still make the difference between living a lonely life versus one filled with love and friendship.
References:
McNallen, Stephen A. Asatru: A Native European Spirituality. Runestone Press, 2015.
Shetler, Greg (Dux). Living Asatru. Imprint Books, 2003.
Grönbech, Vilhelm. The Culture of the Teutons, Vols I and II. Oxford University Press, 1931.
The painting at the top is Wodan Heals Balder’s Horse by Emil Doepler, from 1905. It depicts the “horse charm” Merseburg Incantation, where Wodan heals Balder’s wounded horse, alongside three goddesses.
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