Today, Spain commemorates its patron saint, James, son of Zebedee. Known primarily as the elder brother of John the Evangelist, for more than a thousand years he was far better known as Santiago Matamoros — St. James the Moor (that is, Muslim) slayer — and was the embodiment of Spain’s holy war against Islam.
On this of all days, recalling his story seems not only appropriate but necessary.
No More Tribute
In the year 711, Muslims from North Africa poured into Christian Spain—a land many believe St. James himself evangelized in AD 1. I have already documented the atrocities Muslims committed during this invasion (see Chapters 3 and 6 of Sword and Scimitar), but for our present purpose, two facts are relevant.
First, not all of the Spanish peninsula was conquered; a remnant of Christians who refused to bow to Muslim rule retreated into the mountainous region of Asturias in the northwest. Second, Muslim aggression continued against this fledgling Christian enclave until the late eighth century, when a fragile peace was struck on the humiliating condition that the Christian king of Asturias send 100 virgin girls each year to the emir of Córdoba.
This vile arrangement persisted for decades, until King Ramiro I (r. 842–850) ascended the throne and ended it.
Muslim retribution was swift and terrible. Ramiro’s defiance was viewed not simply as political rebellion but as a blasphemous insult to Islamic supremacy. In response, the emir of Córdoba dispatched a massive army northward to crush the impudent Christians once and for all.
Divine Visitation
According to the chronicles, the Muslim force numbered some 60,000 Arab and Berber warriors gathered from across al-Andalus. Ramiro could muster only 5,000 — a small force of Asturian and Galician warriors armed more with faith than with steel. The two armies met near the town of Clavijo in the rugged hills of La Rioja. The Christians steeled themselves for annihilation. As night fell, King Ramiro withdrew to his tent and prayed for divine aid.
That aid came in the form of a vision. St. James the Greater — apostle of Christ and evangelist of Iberia — appeared to the king: radiant, sword drawn, mounted on a white horse. He promised to ride with the Christian army into battle and crush the enemies of Christ.
Ramiro awoke transformed.
“Saint James fights for us!” he was heard crying before sunrise, as his confused men slowly began to gather. “Let the enemies of Christ fall beneath his sword!”
Blaze of Glory
As the sun broke over the hills on May 23, 844, Christian soldiers reported seeing a dazzling figure on horseback descending from the mountains. It was Santiago, clad in shining armor and slashing through Muslim ranks like divine lightning. With the rallying cry “St. James, and strike for Spain!” the Christians charged, emboldened by the presence of their heavenly commander.
What should have been a slaughter of Christians turned into a complete reversal. The Córdoban army was shattered and routed. Later accounts claimed that every last Muslim soldier was slain, their blood sanctifying the soil of Spain.
King Ramiro emerged victorious and swore eternal devotion to St. James. He vowed to raise churches in the apostle’s honor, to make a yearly pilgrimage to his tomb at Santiago de Compostela, and to revere him as the Patron and Protector of Spain. The tribute of 100 virgin Christian girls faded into memory.
Historical Hero
In time, Santiago Matamoros became the divine icon of Christian Spain, enshrined in countless works of art and sculpture: sword raised high, trampling Muslims beneath the hooves of his white charger.
“With Santiago leading us, we shall trample the Crescent beneath the hooves of our horses,” a Castilian noble declared before charging into battle centuries later.
At the pivotal battle of Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212, another chronicler exulted: “Santiago, destroyer of Moors, has descended from heaven with a burning sword! Praise be to God, who has shown us His champion!”
Muslim chroniclers, too, took note of this terrifying “apparition” and the fervent devotion it inspired among Christians. “The Franks call upon a dead apostle,” complained Ibn al-Khatib 500 years later, “and yet their banners advance while ours retreat.”
Today, of course, modern historians — beginning around 1968 — have concluded that the Battle of Clavijo never even occurred and is a pious fiction. Be that as it many, what is certain is that for over a thousand years, Christian Spain believed it happened. And that belief shaped its very soul. The Reconquista was cast in a divine light: James the Moor-Slayer as the avenging saint against the Muslim persecutors of Christendom. This was more than warfare — it was holy retribution.
The reader is left to ponder Dom Prosper Guéranger’s (1805–1875) liturgical entry for St. James the Moor-Slayer:
Nearly eight centuries, which to the heavenly citizens are but as a day, had passed over that tomb in the north of Spain, where two disciples had secretly laid the Apostle’s body. During that time the land of his inheritance, which he had so rapidly traversed, had been overrun … by the Crescent. One day lights were seen glimmering over the briars that covered the neglected monument; attention was drawn to the spot, which henceforth went by the name of Compostella — field of stars. But what are those sudden shouts coming down from the mountains, and echoing through the valleys? Who is this unknown chief rallying against an immense army the little worn-out troop whose heroic valor could not yesterday save it from defeat? Swift as lightning, and bearing in one hand a white standard with a red cross, he rushes with drawn sword upon the panic-stricken foe, and dyes the feet of his charger in the blood of 70,000 slain. Hail to the chief of the holy war! Saint James! Saint James! Forward, Spain! [the Battle of Clavijo] It is the reappearance of the Galilean fisherman, whom the Man-God once called from the bark where he was mending his nets; of the elder son of thunder, now free to hurl the thunderbolt upon these new Samaritans, who pretend to honor the unity of God by making Christ no more than a prophet. Henceforth Saint James shall be to Christian Spain the firebrand which the Prophet saw, devouring all the people round about, to the right hand and to the left, until Jerusalem shall be inhabited again in her own place (Zach. 12:5).
That, once upon a time, is what July 25 used to commemorate in Spain.
Betraying Their Roots
Today, however, the nation’s “progressive” elites grovel before Islamic sensibilities, stripping away the very symbols that defined their civilization — foremost among them St. James the Moor Slayer, the fierce defender of the faith, who for centuries stood as the living embodiment of Christian resistance. In the name of “inclusion” and “diversity,” they are rewriting history and erasing the memory of Christian sacrifice.
Make no mistake of it; this isn’t coexistence — it’s betrayal. It’s the sidelining of the saint who once inspired a nation to liberate itself from the Islamic yoke.
And in lockstep with the elites’ erasure of the saint from Spain’s national memory, Muslim migrants are once again committing savage acts of anti-Christian violence—desecrating churches, smashing crosses, and targeting the once Christian communities whose history is being systematically erased.
Raymond Ibrahim, author of Defenders of the West and Sword and Scimitar, is the Distinguished Senior Shillman Fellow at the Gatestone Institute and the Judith Rosen Friedman Fellow at the Middle East Forum.