Roman Turdetania: Romanization, Identity and Socio-Cultural Interaction in the South of the Iberian Peninsula between the 4th and 1st centuries BCE 9004382976, 9789004382978

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Roman Turdetania

Cultural Interactions in the Mediterranean Editor in Chief Floris van den Eijnde, Utrecht University Editorial Board David Abulafia, Cambridge University Diederik Burgersdijk, Radboud University

Volume 3

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/​ cim

Roman Turdetania Romanization, Identity and Socio-​Cultural Interaction in the South of the Iberian Peninsula between the 4th and 1st Centuries bce Edited by

Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: Ptolemy. Geography. Detail of Turdetania. Firenze, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Ms. Plut. 28.49, f. 14r (circa 1300 DC). By permission of MiBACT. Its reproduction by any means is forbidden. The Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data is available online at http://​catalog.loc.gov LC record available at http://​lccn.loc.gov/2018960526​

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/​brill-​typeface. ISSN 2405-​4 771 ISBN 978-​9 0-​0 4-​3 7340-​2 (hardback) ISBN 978-​9 0-​0 4-​3 8297-​8 (ebook) Copyright 2019 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-​free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Preface: Spanish Turdetania, a Case Study for Shared Identities vii Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti List of Figures and Tables xvii Notes on Contributors xx 1

Strabo and the Invention of Turdetania 1 Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti

2

Historians vs. Geographers: Divergent Uses of the Ethnic Name Turdetania in the Greek and Roman Tradition 13 Pierre Moret

3

The City as a Structural Element in Turdetanian Identity in the Work of Strabo 34 Encarnación Castro-​Páez

4

Deconstructing ‘Turdetanian Culture’: Identities, Territories and Archaeology 46 Francisco José García Fernández

5

Ethnic and Cultural Identity among Punic Communities in Iberia 70 Eduardo Ferrer Albelda

6

Carthaginians in Turdetania: Carthaginian Presence in Iberia before 237 bce 89 Ruth Pliego Vázquez

7

Tyrian Connections: Evolving Identities in the Punic West 108 Manuel Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar

8

Unraveling the Western Phoenicians under Roman Rule: Identity, Heterogeneity and Dynamic Boundaries 130 Francisco Machuca Prieto

vi Contents 9

Across the Looking Glass: Ethno-​Cultural Identities in Southern Hispania through Coinage 148 Bartolomé Mora Serrano

10

The Economy and Romanization of Hispania Ulterior (125–​25 bce): The Role of the Italians 164 Enrique García Vargas

11

Epilogue: A New Paradigm for Romanization? 186 Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti

Bibliography 191 Index of Geographical Names 240 Index Locorum 248 Index of Personal or Ethnics Names, and Conceptual Terms 252

Preface: Spanish Turdetania, a Case Study for Shared Identities Continuity and change in societies conquered by Rome and the effects of such a conquest in Hispania are often brought up as part of the debate on romanization.* The debate is neither new nor specific to the region of Hispania. Ever since Rome became important in the construction of post-​enlightened Europe, it has been key for interpreting the role of empire.1 For a long time, it was assumed that romanization in the West was a homogenous and one-​way process, resulting from the progressive implementation of everything Roman in all areas. It was ultimately perceived as a positive change, because it implied an increase in culture and civilization among populations, which were first subjugated and later absorbed. This process culminated with the spread of urbanism and citizenship as a socio-​economic, spatial and political-​juridical model for organization throughout the western empire, as well as with the widespread adoption of Latin as a common language and Roman culture as a genuine expression of civic fulfilment. With the termination of the Bellum Cantabricum in 19ce, Hispania, formerly an example of resistance to invasion, became a birthplace of emperors (Trajan, Hadrian, etc.), philosophers (Seneca, Quintilian, etc.) and literary writers (Mela, Martial, etc.).2 An essentialist and historicist approach dominated Spanish scholarship until the 1970s. From its perspective, pieces of evidence for pre-​Roman continuity were seen as ‘vestiges’ without historical context, inoperative hindrances, resulting from varying degrees of romanization recorded in each area, which could be studied according to phases and differences in Roman impact.3 Southern Hispania Ulterior (Baetica for the Latin speaking peoples and Turdetania for the Greek) has always been presented as a paradigmatic example of this traditional outlook. The remains of the great civilizations pre-​Roman civilizations, the monumental Roman past of many of today’s cities (Baelo/​Cádiz, Italica/​Seville, for instance), and classical literature, which exalted the affinity with Rome of the region and its peoples (in the case of Strabo), all supported the view of a strongly essentialist and diffusionist archaeology in Spain. According to this * orcid: http://​orcid.org/​0000-​0002-​4477-​0715 1 Romanization in European scholarship has been the topic of a recent doctoral thesis: Crespo Mas 2008; vid. Díaz-​Andreu and Champion 1996. 2 Wulff 2003. 3 The countless works of J.M. Blázquez on romanization since the 1960s were compiled in 1995. For Spain see: Gozalbes Cravioto and González Ballesteros 2007, 37–​48.

viii Preface approach, Tartessus, seen as the ‘most ancient civilization in the west’, and of ‘ancient political, social and cultural traditions, comparable to the Greek’ (paraphrasing the words of Adolf Schulten),4 became the most distinguished precedent of Roman Turdetania. Subsequent invasions or colonization of Tartessus/​ Turdetania (Greek, Phoenician, Punic, and Roman) only reinforced the pre-​ existing culture. Therefore, the romanization of Turdetania signified the height of an ongoing, ancient process, in play since the time of the mythical Tartessus. As of the 1960s and 1970s, traditional thinking on the subject began to change, partly due to increasing contact with European universities in the later years of the Franco regime. Historians and archaeologists with academic backgrounds acquired outside Spain incorporated new techniques and research methods, which questioned the dominant positivism and normativism. This phenomenon was not exclusive to Spain, although old paradigms remained stronger there, aidedby the political context of the country and the control exerted by conservative sectors in academic institutions.5 All of the above led to a broadening of perspectives. In the study of Roman Spain, attention began to be paid not only to the conqueror, but also to the conquered. New evidence, from inscriptions and material culture that were previously ignored, was no longer only Roman. Against the notion that in Hispania the arrival of Rome launched a relentless process conducive to fully Roman ways of life and social organization, scholars began to point out social or cultural elements of pre-​Roman origin that remained active, as forms of indigenous ‘survival’ or ‘resistance’ to romanization.6 Pre-​Roman material culture, language, and social and institutional structures were highlighted as continuities, which survived for centuries and experienced a rebirth in the Middle Ages.7 A more heterogeneous outlook on Hispania was forged in the heat of new, forward-​looking approaches, which understood conquest/​contact from a bi-​directional point of view, in which the ‘conquered’ also played leading roles. The conquest of Hispania was no longer seen as a uniform process towards becoming Roman.8 4 Schulten 1922 (cf. Cruz Andreotti 1987, 227–​240). An exception to the general trend was posed by the archaeologist A. García Bellido (cf. Arce 1991, 209–​211; Bendala Galán, Fernández Ochoa, Morillo Cerdán, and Durán Cabello 2005). See in general Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2005; Bellón Ruiz and García Fernández 2009, 51–​74. 5 Reference works: Díaz-​Andreu 2002; Díaz-​Andreu et al. 2009 6 The work of M. Vigil (1963, 225–​233) was emblematic and foreshadowed these changes. 7 Barbero and Vigil 19915, particularly the introduction by Marcelo Vigil. 8 The meeting at Cortona in 1981, published in 1983, marked a turning point for ancient history: Modes de contacts et processus de transformation dans les sociétés anciennes. Actes du colloque de Cortone (24–​30 mai 1981). Collection de l’École française de Rome 67. Rome: École Française de Rome. For Hispania see Bendala 2006a, 189–​200 and 2006b, 289–​292.

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In the 1980s and 1990s, a further step was taken. Indigenous culture (particularly in northern Spain) no longer signified a mere continuity of the past or resistance to Rome, but an integral part of a multifaceted romanization, which adapted to a noticeably heterogeneous reality. The proliferation of epigraphic and archaeological finds and the contextualized reading of written sources contrasted with the ‘literary archaeology’ practiced previously, opening the way for new approaches. Indigenous social structures in the Indo-​European region, which survived well into the Imperial period, evidenced widely in inscriptions, were now explained as a Roman adaptation to new political and administrative circumstances. If romanization was to survive as a concept, despite its ideological baggage, it could no longer refer to a genuinely Roman context, but to a mechanism of domination, strongly conditioned by extremely heterogeneous situations of conquest and exploitation; indigenous continuity, when inscribed in new structures, ceased to be characterized as ‘vestiges’ of the past, but rather as constituting new forms of organization in the Roman world.9 In this context, research on ethnic identities took centre stage,10 a trend that was part of the late development of processual stances of New Archaeology in Spain. In the South and the Levant, new voices demanded a different approach to romanization. The idea of a population immediately converting into Romans (Strabo 3.2.15), after the arrival of Scipio in 218 bce and the expulsion of the Carthaginians, had to be contested. Although the Mediterranean coast and the interior of the Guadalquivir Valley were unquestionably ‘romanized’ at an early stage, due to prior conditions and an early Roman presence, the process was no longer seen as homogenous. It became evident that the establishment of purely Roman socio-​cultural forms brought in by Italian contingents clashed with clearly indigenous elements, such as the survival of urban structures or beliefs of Phoenician, Punic or Iberian origin.11 These past years, excavations have multiplied, mainly in urban and rescue archaeology, and the early interventions of the 1960s and 1970s have been 9

10 11

The works of G. Pereira Menaut (1983a, 167–​192; 1983b, 199–​212; 1984, 271–​288; 1992, 35–​ 44), J. Santos Yanguas (1985, ed. 1993; and González Rodríguez 1994), or Ma.C. González Rodríguez (1986, 1988, 181–​188) played a fundamental role in the paradigm shift. Recently: Pereira Menaut 2010, 239–​253. Cruz Andreotti and Mora Serrano 2004. Studies by Keay 1992, 1998; Díaz-​Andreu and Keay 1997; Cunliffe and Keay 1995 already pointed in this direction. So too did the works of M. Bendala and others in relation to the cities of Carteia or Carmo in the Punic-​Roman period (1976; 2001, 37–​52; Martínez Lillo et al. 1994, 81–​116), or the continuity of the Iberian tradition in such a central issue as urbanism (Abad Casal et al. 1987, 121–​140; Abad Casal and Bendala Galán 1997, 11–​20), to cite only some examples.

x Preface revised, particularly regarding large quantities of materials that remained unstudied. In comparison to what was known in previous decades, there is now a much greater understanding of the complex urban and rural network along the Guadalquivir Valley and adjacent rivers (the heart of Turdetania), which developed during the progressive penetration of Rome into the region.12 The network involved economic and social relations, inheritances and transformations from previous socio-​economic models, the convergence of diverse ethno-​cultural groups in shared spaces, and a cultural and religious panorama under Roman rule that was far from homogeneous or uniform.13 All of this resulted in a very heterogeneous scenario, in terms of settlement patterns and territorial organization, as well as cultural elements and identities, which were re-​adapted and/​or revived in complex negotiations between the Roman and indigenous worlds –​understood as Punic, Phoenician, Greek or local. In sum, the romanization of the area known as Turdetania in the Roman Republican and early Imperial periods necessarily caused a confrontation and subsequent accommodation of different identities, not without political and social tensions, which are difficult to reconstruct. Many of the advances previously attributed to the Italian colonization –​coinage, civic and political models, to name a few –​were already operative before the arrival of Rome. Hence, it was Rome that adapted to the local reality and merely provided a new context for native continuities, which previously appeared so difficult to explain.14 Other academic debates were also influential, particularly discussion on the meaning of ‘pre-​Roman’ in southern Iberia. As explained above, for the traditional approach, history prior to the arrival of Rome was understood as a ‘prelude’ to the great cultural development brought by Rome. The indigenous communities were completely acculturated by the colonizers, becoming civilized Turdetanians, who fully adapted to the Roman world. The reality was, however, very different. It became increasingly evident that the Phoenician colonization (ninth–​sixth centuries bce) significantly affected the local populations far beyond a mere commercial interaction, notably influencing social and territorial structures along the coast and the Guadalquivir Valley, which developed from mixed or hybrid communities. Similarly, it became clear that

12 13 14

Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2002, 133–​51; Ferrer Albelda, García Vargas, and García Fernández 2008, 217–​46. García Fernández 2015, 223–​41. Cf. note 11. See the works of Eduardo Ferrer Albelda, Francisco José García Fernández, Ruth Pliego Vázquez and Enrique García Vargas in this same volume, as well as those included in the bibliography (just like that Chaves Tristán). Also see: García Fernández 2003b.

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the Punic presence was not limited to simple conquest and military control of resources, but considerably impacted the organization and ways of life of a wide area of southern Iberia.15 Acknowledging Phoenician and Punic influence radically transformed the vision held of the centuries prior to the arrival of Rome, particularly the scope and effective dimension of the subsequent romanization, for which the pre-​Roman influence was a key determiner. The territory spanning the Baetis-​Guadalquivir river was never a homogenous ethnic or geographical reality. Furthermore, it was visibly different and opposed to other Iberian worlds, such as the north or the central plateau. Archaeological evidence and a critical and contextualized reading of the literary sources demonstrate that, from Scipio’s first entrance with his armies until the Imperial period of the first century ce, these territories were never authentically Roman in any political, social or cultural form, despite not being Punic, Phoenician or local either. As recently noted:  ‘… account needs to be taken of regional Iberian contexts and the ways in which Iberians might have chosen to interpret, deploy or use them, a complex series of processes which give rise to the emergence of new cultural forms that are neither Iberian, Greek, Carthaginian, Italic nor Roman –​but hybrid and different. The long cultural shadow cast by the cultural developments in pre-​Hellenistic Iberia (i.e. fourth century bce and earlier) suggests instead that we need to think of these kinds of evidence in the context of the changing local and regional social strategies in which they were created’.16 Processes of contact and/​or conquest cannot be seen from a linear perspective; defining ‘Roman’ has become increasingly complicated.17 Societies were comprised of multiple identities, which acted differently in relation to the public and private spheres, either as part of the elites or of the dominated population, according to gender, ethnic group or individuality. Identities were sometimes imposed, although in other cases, they arose from the hybrid mix 15

16 17

See Wulff and Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2009, for a comprehensive synthesis: this work compiles the contributions of the main groups leading the break from essentialist, historicist and functionalist approaches in research to date (cf. García Fernández and Fernández Götz 2010, 47–​78). A critical history of changes in research trends, particularly in archaeology, in García Fernández and Bellón Ruiz 2009, 75–​132. Keay 2013, 319. Other, more specific studies should also be mentioned, by S. Keay (2007, 305–​358–​with G. Earl), J.M. Egan (2013), or the recent synthesis by B. Lowe, which offers an economic perspective (2009), and Revell 2016, esp. 29–​39. For other areas under Roman domination between the Republic and the Imperial period:  Mattingly. ed. 1997 and 2011; Keay and Terrenato 2001; Terrenato 1998; Van Dommelen and Terrenato 2007; Woolf 2011. For Hispania: Cruz Andreotti and Mora 2004; Santos Yanguas and Cruz Andreotti 2012; Caballos Rufino and Lefebvre 2011. For Andalusia: Wulff and Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2009.

xii Preface of cultures. Identities could be central to the negotiation of indigenous continuities, adapted to the conditions of empire –​as in the case of ethnic identities in Turdetania surviving well into the Roman period –​although they could also play secondary roles, with indirect effects; in sum, all these forms of identity built diverse societies.18 In southern Iberia, the progressive military, political and territorial establishment of Roman and Italian contingents was achieved in part by the active participation of local populations. They constructed new political and ethnic identities, influenced by the growing Roman-​Italian presence in the territories of Ulterior-​Baetica, which ultimately led to the transformation of pre-​existing structures. Under the active sponsorship and cultural umbrella of Rome, new ethnic, political and cultural identities were created, which shared the common denominator of urban and civic development, creating a very different reality from what Rome encountered at the beginning of the second century bce, but also substantially different from what was previously considered to be genuinely Roman-​Italian. This new approach directly disputes the previously unquestioned Roman hegemony, and is clearly reflected in the form acquired by cities, which combined Roman models in public spaces with Punic urban planning.19 In the pages that follow, the contributing authors will analyse some of the aspects that built this choral image of romanization and its shared identities, using Turdetania as a paradigmatic example. A  first approach to this image in the pre-​Roman period was offered in a previous, edited volume, which set the basis for future research.20 Some of the arguments put forth then will be continued and developed further in the following chapters, presenting Turdetania as an ideal laboratory for the examination of shared identities, precisely because of the pre-​existing ethno-​cultural heterogeneity, which resulted in a very diverse and uneven process of romanization, converging at different public and private levels, and varying across territories and different historical moments. Therefore, the starting premise for this book will be to break the artificial and conventional temporal limits determined by a ‘before and after Rome’. The authors will go back and forth in time as much as necessary to clarify the continuity of ethnic and political identities, which affected the development of these territories and its peoples well into Roman times, approximately until the Flavian period. Despite being a merely instrumental Graeco-​Roman concept, the term Turdetania/​Turdetaninan is used for convenience. All evidence capable of providing new interpretative approaches will be considered, 18 19 20

Wulff 2009, 11–​50. Wulff 2001. Wulff and Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2009.

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thereby overcoming the obsolete opposition between written and material sources. The literary sources referenced throughout were produced outside the volume’s historical context, as Turdetania unfortunately lacked, or lost, any literary production of its own. However, a contextualized reading of the Greek and Roman sources produces interpretations that go beyond mere literality. Likewise, material culture will not be seen as isolated elements, but from a processual point of view, connecting phenomena relating to identities with the Roman world at different levels in space and time. The first three contributions define what the written sources understand as Turdetania (Cruz Andreotti, Moret and Castro-Páez). They all identify Strabo as the main author for Hispania, as the creator of a narrative on southern Iberia, which will determine what ancient and modern scholarship understood as such. For the geographer, Turdetania was located along the Guadalquivir Valley, and had been assimilated into Roman Baetica. It is presented as ethnically homogenous, as a continuation of the mythical Tartessus, which achieved the perfect state of civilization with the arrival of Rome. Other components to consider in its ethno-​cultural composition, such as Phoenician and Punic influence, are side-​lined. However, there is evidence in this text, as in other authors (Polybius, Posidonius, Artemidorus, Livy, Pliny, Ptolemy, Appian, etc.), of traces of other ethnic groups and communities (Bastuli, Bastetani, Phoenician, Punic, Turduli, Celtic, etc.) with their own identities, contradicting to a certain extent Strabo’s homogeneous view, though this is quite particular to the author. These contradictions expose Turdetania as no more than a construct, an ethno-​territorial agglutinant, created by the Romans for administrative purposes, since, in reality, it comprised different ethnic identities converging around a common denominator: the urban centre as a form of civic and territorial organization. The Turdetania of the literary sources did not always refer to the same thing, and therefore did not always include the same geographical space or the same ethnic groups. Far from posing an obstacle, these differences expose ethnicity as active through space and time, and not as a still photograph. A range of possible interpretations emerge from the same classical sources, which, although written from an etic perspective, offer interesting insights relating to the rise and development of identities under the Turdetanian umbrella, characterized by a shared Roman affinity. After assessing and enriching the information provided by the main literary sources, the contribution of F.J. García Fernández goes on to radically deconstruct the old paradigms relative to the identification between ethnic group and archaeological culture. He first reviews the different positions concerning identity, ethnicity and archaeology, before delving into the question of Turdetania. Neither Turdetania nor the Turdetanians (or Turduli) constitute a

xiv Preface recognizable ethnic group or territory, before or during the Roman period. The ethnic variety resulting from ethnogenetic processes, in operation since the fourth century bce, makes it impossible to speak of a common ethnic group. Moreover, there is no ‘archaeological culture’ to complement them, that is, there is no distinctive material culture to clearly label as Turdetanian, not even among the communities inheriting the orientalising or Tartessian culture. Clues may be found in elements linked to daily life and social practice (habitus), which changed constantly and are difficult to follow. However, in order to continue speaking of the Turdetanians in archaeological terms, evidence is, for now, restricted to an archaeology of daily life. Further associations should not be attempted, for the record available does not allow for it. With the general historical and archaeological contexts having been clarAguilar, Pliego ified, several contributions (Ferrer Albelda; Álvarez Martí-​ Vázquez and Machuca Prieto) set out to identify the Phoenician-​Punic impact among the complex ethnic identity scenario of Turdetania, which was anything but homogenous. The Phoenician and Punic communities of Iberia played an important role, both in the political and ethnic configuration of the pre-​Roman period and in the construction of the new Roman reality in southern Iberia. As scholars such as M. Bendala21 or J.L. López Castro have argued,22 the evidence for Phoenician-​Punic influence carries enormous weight and potential to counteract traditional approaches. E. Ferrer Albelda emphasizes this central role and points out the city as the main scenario for identity negotiations in the new historical realities, examining both literary and archaeological evidence. Likewise, new readings of the written sources (such as the one offered by Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar of Pompey Trogue) make it possible to reconstruct historical contexts between the fourth and third centuries bce. This period was marked by the territorial and economic expansion of Gadir throughout the ancient Phoenician area of influence (expressed in the foundation of colonies, such as Carteia, and the continuity of strong ties with the Tyrian metropolis), territorial tensions, and the first intervention of Carthage, before the arrival of the Barcid dynasty. The contribution of Pliego Vázquez reinforces this idea. Faced with the weakness of other evidence, coinage allows her to trace the presence of Carthage in Iberia back to the fourth century bce, changing substantially the idea held until now of Punic activity in the western Mediterranean before the Barcids. It is no longer possible to speak of a mere ‘supervised commercial hegemony’. Rather, there existed a continued and effective military presence. Only in the context of an ancient Punic-​Gaditanian 21 22

Vid. n. 11. His monograph of 1995 was determining in this sense.

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hegemony may one explain the Phoenician-​Punic political and cultural influence over Roman Turdetania, which developed to become a central component of romanization, viewed here as a choral phenomenon. Machuca Prieto elaborates on this concept. While cities of Phoenician-​Punic origin underwent Roman monumentalization and urbanization between the second and first centuries bce, local signs of identity were reinforced, such as the claim to ancestral Tyrian origins, and the persistence of writing, material culture or burial practices, which the author describes as the ‘Phoenician way of being Roman’. Coinage is a particularly rich source of evidence in the archaeological record of southern Iberia during the Roman Republican period. The contribution of Mora Serrano further strengthens the choral image. The information afforded by the coinage belonging to cities of Phoenician-​Punic or Iberian tradition, such as Gadir, Malaca, Sexs, Abdera, Ebusus, Baria, Castulo, Obulco, Urso, etc., cannot be reduced to representing only one identity. There are, in fact, coin types –​particularly at the beginning of the Roman occupation –​representing a very ancient descent of individual cities, whether Phoenician-​Punic or local, and with important local differences depending on the civic tradition from which they originated. Likewise, Roman influences may also be detected in the coinage, such as the adoption of Latin by some mints, while others continued using old place names. On the other hand, the appearance of specific themes or types, Hellenistic in origin, denote adaptation and versatile identities among the urban elites, which were already fully incorporated into the Roman world. This volume concludes with a study by García Vargas on the role played by the Italians in the romanization of southern Iberia. Although it is impossible today to quantify the number of Italian contingents that arrived in southern Iberia, there is sufficient data to assess their qualitative effect, more in social and economic than in cultural terms, contesting traditional views on the role of the Italians. They were so influential in economic activities, such as mining and the distribution of goods (and, therefore, in changes to the productive system), that they began transforming social consumption habits. This progressive italianization has been clearly exposed by archaeological research of the last decades. The view offered here on the romanization of Turdetania or its historical predecessors is not a closed one. It would be a rash and senseless position to adopt nowadays. On the contrary, the authors in this volume review different ways of understanding the romanization of Turdetania, as well as the limits and possibilities of research in the area, and of the literary and archaeological record. One conclusion comes across clearly. Neither Rome nor Hispania should be thought of in the same way as before, nor other aspects, such as romanization, Roman imperialism, changes among the local elites and their

xvi Preface signs of identity, transformations in the socio-​economic or religious spheres, or the continuity of identity markers among the pre-​existing communities living in new realities. Roman Turdetania was created by a mix of civic and political experiences of Mediterranean tradition, which contributed to the development of important civic communities, extending throughout the territory. Local elites promoted by Rome competed to gain visibility for their own, ancient identities, while at the same time actively and enthusiastically collaborating with the Roman authorities, with whom they shared common interests. A similar phenomenon may be perceived in Italy in the years previous to the Social War. The Italian model was applied to Iberia, wherever the socio-​ economic conditions allowed for it.23 This volume is part of the aims and conclusions of three research projects: Ethnic Identities in Southern Spain: Rise and Evolution in Antiquity (7th2nd centuries BCE) (hum 03482), funded by the Council for Innovation, ­Science and Enterprise of the regional government of Andalusia; Ethnic and Political-Civic Identity in Roman Spain: The Case of the Turdetania-Baetica (har2012–​32588) and Ancient Geography and Historiography: Space Representation and Transmission of Knowledge (har2016–​76098–​c 2–​1–​p ), funded by the Ministry of Economy, Industry and Competitiveness of Spain. It is a product of the synergies generated in recent years among varied research teams, particularly  –​although not exclusively  –​from the Universities of Málaga and Seville, who met in Málaga to discuss these issues and exchange ideas at a workshop, which took place the 25th and 26th of September of 2014 (Fronteras de las identidades: qué fronteras para qué identidades). The results of this meeting are presented in this publication. References to classical literature follow ocr3 lists; bibliographic references and lists, as well as abbreviations for journals and collections, follow the Chicago Manual of Style, the American Journal of Archaeology standard and the publisher’s style book –​Brill’s Author Guide. Any possible errors are, of course, my own. Finally, I would like to thank all colleagues for their active participation and exciting contributions, as well as their patience with the editing process. Special thanks to Carolina López-Ruiz, Inmaculada Pérez-Martín and Francisca Chaves-Tristán. This publication would not have been possible without the patient and careful translation of Teresa Erice and the enthusiastic and unbiased reception by Brill Publishers, particularly Giulia Moriconi: to all of them, my most sincere gratitude. Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti 23

Wulff 1991, 2006 and 2007.

Figures and Tables Figures 1.1 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 3.1

4.1 4.2

4.3

4.4

4.5

The Iberia of Strabo (courtesy of Counillon 2007, 77). 5 Military operations south of the Ebro in the years 197-​190, according to Livy (after Moret 2011, modified). 19 Turdetania in Strabo’s Iberia. Shape of Iberia as in Moret 2015; limits of Lusitania following 3.4.20. 20 Baetica and Turduli in Pliny’s Hispania. Shape of Hispania as in Moret 2016a. 27 Turdetania in Ptolemy’s Iberia. Shape of Iberia as in Stückelberger and Grasshoff 2006. 28 Parallel evolution of Tartessus and Turdetania names (by Pierre Moret). 31 Cities mentioned in book 3 of Geography (Source: E. Castro, after the locations proposed in Cruz Andreotti, G., M.V. García Quintela, and F.J. Gómez Espelosín. 20152. Estrabón, Geografía de Iberia. Madrid: Alianza Editorial -​1st ed. 2007). 43 Palaeo-​ethnological map of the Iberian Peninsula, according to Almagro Gorbea and Ruiz Zapatero (1992). 48 Turdetanian pottery: common storage and cooking ware. Urns and vases: 1 and 2 (Italica), 3 (Vico) 4 (Italica), 5 (Italica), 6 (Italica); mortars: 7 (Spal), 8 and 9 (Italica); bowls: 10-​12 (Spal); cooking pots: 13 and 14 (Italica), 15 and 16 (Cerro Macareno). Cooking ware of central Mediterranean Punic tradition. Casseroles: 17 (Spal); mortar-​dishes: 18 (Spal) (drawings by F.J. García Fernández). 61 Turdetanian pottery: common tableware. Bowls: 1, 6 and 17 (Italica), 2 and 3 (Alhonoz), 4 and 5 (Spal); dishes: 7 (Ilipa Magna), 8 (Spal), 9 (Alhonoz), 10 and 11 (Montemolín), 12 (Huelva); porringers: 13 (Italica), 14 (Vico); goblet-​shaped vases: 15 and 16 (Italica); oil lamp bowls: 18 and 19 (Alhonoz), 20 (Italica), 21 (Spal). “Kuass” type Punic ware. Niveau ii fish plates: 22 (Spal); Niveau ix cups: 23 (Spal). Campanian A and B Italian ware. Morel 3614 cups: 24 (Spal); Lamb. 38 a-​b bowls: 25 (Spal); Lamb. 27 b and Lamb. 27 c cups: 26 and 27 (Spal); Lamb. 36 pateras: 28 (Spal); Lamb. 5 and Lamb. 7 pateras: 29 and 30 (Spal) (drawings by F.J. García Fernández). 63 Map of western Andalusia, largely coinciding with ancient Turdetania, locating settlements and main areas of ethno-​cultural predominance (map by F.J. García Fernández). 66 Hypothesis on the way relations were established among ethnic, civic and social identities, in contexts of close, multicultural interaction, as well as types

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5.1 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 7.1 8.1

8.2

8.3

8.4

8.5 9.1

9.2

9.3

Figures and Tables

of boundaries, which may have existed between different groups (Desing by F.J. García Fernández). 68 Sectorization of ethnic groups in southern Iberia towards 500 bce, according to data provided by Hecataeus of Miletus (drawings by E. Ferrer Albelda). 74 Male head/​horse galloping (sngCop. 94-​98); 3.90 g., 16 mm. 91 Tanit/​horse before palm tree (sngCop. 109-​119); 2.35 g., 16 mm. 91 Tanit/​protome (sngCop. 144-​178); 5.53 g., 20 mm. 93 Map of Andalusia showing the distribution of Siculo-​Punic coinage (by R. Pliego). 95 The Phoenician-​Punic settlement in the Straits of Gibraltar area (adapted by M. Álvarez of courtesy from Zamora and Sáez 2014, 253). 114 Silver unit from the mint of Gadir (Alfaro Asins 1988, series ii.A.1); Chronology: 237-​206 bce. Obverse: head of Melqart with lion skin looking left and club on right shoulder. Reverse: Tuna on right, above and below Punic legend mhlm /​‘gdr. Photograph: sng España (man 1993/​67/​131); 4,74 g., 18,10 mm. 138 Bronze sestertius from Gades (Alfaro Asins1988, series vii.A.1); Chronology: c. 19 bce. Obverse: head of Hercules-​Melqart with lion skin looking left with club on shoulder. Reverse: legend reads as pont balbvs, with pontifical knife, simpulum and axe. Photograph: sng España (man 1993/​62/​752); 35,47 g., 36,90 mm. 141 Censer shaped as a female head from the Calle de Troilo kiln in Cádiz. A: series 1 censer; B: series 2 censer. Drawings by A.M. Niveau de Villedary (2011, Figs. 6 and 8). 143 Potsherds (two Campanian type A and one red slip ware) from the Roman theatre in Malaca. These potsherds are dated to the second century bce and early first century ce. Composition by F. Machuca after drawings by Gran-​ Aymerich 1991, 291. 145 The cities of Phoenician-​Punic tradition of the Iberian Peninsula towards the mid first century ce. Map by F. Machuca. 147 a) Obulco, AE (Herrero 11.12.2014 n. 2038); 11,55 g.c., 12,6 mm. b) Carbula –​obv. –​ AE (Ibercoin 26.06.2013 no. 4017); 8,95 g.c., 12,50 mm. c) Carbula –​obv. –​AE (SNGStockholm no. 317); 12,85 g., 27 mm. d) Carbula –​rev. –​AE (Herrero 13.12.2012 no. 141); 22,98 g.c., 23 mm. 162 a) Gadir –​obv. –​AE (Vico 05.11.2015 n. 251); 12 g., 26 mm. b) Lascuta –​rev. –​ AE (ivdg, n. 2043); 14,03 g., 29,45 mm. c) Baria –​obv. –​AE (dic 2nd.3); 21 g., 25 mm. d) Tagilit –​rev. –​AE (G. Cores Collection); 10,87 g., 28 mm. 162 a) *Beuipo/​Salacia, AE (G. Cores Collection. Mora 2011b, fig. 4); c. 12, 4 g.c., 24 mm. b) Sacili, AE (Rodríguez Pérez 2013, fig. 1); 16,82 g., 31 mm. 163

Figures and Tables

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10.1 Main locations mentioned in the text (by García Vargas and Domínguez Berenjeno). 167 10.2 Mining village in Fuente Obejuna (Cordova) (courtesy of Blázquez et al. 2002). 169 10.3 Castellum of El Castillejo (El Campillo, Huelva) (courtesy Pérez Macías and Delgado Domínguez 2011). 170 10.4 a) Stamps on amphorae 7.4.3.3. from the Bay of Cádiz. b) Stamps on amphora Dressel 1C from El Rinconcillo (Algeciras) and Baelo Claudia (Tarifa) (by García Vargas and Sáez Romero, draw from Mayet 1994, Sillières 1997 and García Vargas 1998). 178

Tables 2.1

3.1

Use of the names Tartessus, Turdetani and Turduli in Greek and Latin authors, between the Second Punic War and the Flavian period. The asterisk marks authors born in Iberia or who visited the Peninsula. 30 Cities mentioned in Book 3 of Strabo’s Geography (after the edition by Radt 2002). 41

Notes on Contributors Manuel Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar lectures in Ancient History at the University of Málaga. Previous research reviewed the construction of the traditional image of Tartessus in Spanish scholarship and references to Tartessus and Phoenicians in Graeco-​Roman literature. In recent years, he has concentrated on the Phoenician world in Iberia, as part of a colonial diaspora, and on the role played by the Tyrian Melqart as a tutelary god throughout this network of communities. He is currently starting to research the image of tsunamis in the cultural representations of the ancient world, using Gadir and the Phoenician world as a case study. Encarnación Castro-Páez earned two licenciaturas, one in Geography and History and the other in Classical Studies at the University of Cádiz, for which she was awarded the Premio Extraordinario prize for the highest grade point average. She later went on to obtain a maîtrise in Ancient History at the University of Bretagne Occidentale and a dea in Ancient History at the University of Franche-​Comté. Throughout her academic formation, she has enjoyed numerous scholarships and undertaken research in various European universities. She has also participated in various projects and research groups, the most significant of which are: Patrimonio histórico de Andalucía en la Antigüedad (PAI-​h um-​240, PI: Dr. Francisco Javier Lomas Salmonte); ‘Ethnic identities in southern Spain: Rise and Evolution in Antiquity (7th-2nd centuries BCE)’ (hum 03482), funded by the Council for Innovation, Science and Enterprise of the regional government of Andalusia; ‘Ethnic and Political-​Civic identity in Roman Spain: The Case of the Turdetania-​ Baetica’ (HAR2012-​32588) and ‘Ancient Geography and Historiography:  Space Representation and Transmission of Knowledge’ (HAR2016-​76098-​C2-​1-​P), funded by the Ministry of Economics and Competitivity of Spain, PI: Dr. Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti. She has also participated in numerous seminars, courses and conferences. Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti lectures in Ancient history at the University of Málaga, where he also obtained his doctorate and held a research fellowship. He expanded his studies at the universities of Roma Tor Vergata-​Roma ii and Perugia, both in italy, and at the University of the Basque Country in Spain. Although he has worked in other lines of research, such as early modern historiography on ancient Hispania or the mythical geography on the limits of the oecumene, he currently studies

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different, yet closely related topics: ancient geographical thought, Iberian geography, ancient ethnic identities in Hispania –​in particular concerning Turdetania –​and more specifically, concrete studies on authors, such as Polybius and Strabo. He carries out his research mainly as part of the research projects he leads:  ‘Ethnic identities in southern Spain:  Rise and Evolution in Antiquity (7th–2nd centuries BCE)’ (hum 03482), funded by the Council for Innovation, Science and Enterprise of the regional government of Andalusia, ‘Ethnic and Political-​Civic identity in Roman Spain:  The Case of the Turdetania-​Baetica’ (HAR2012-​32588) and ‘Ancient Geography and Historiography: Space Representation and Transmission of Knowledge’ (HAR2016-​76098-​C2-​1-​P), sponsored by the government of Spain. Eduardo Ferrer Albelda lectures in Archaeology at the University of Seville, where he teaches and carries out research on the Pre-​Roman communities of southern Iberia during the first millennium bce from several points of view: Graeco-​Roman literature, settlement archaeology, religion, economy, identity etc. He has followed this line of research since 1995, when he presented his phd thesis Los púnicos en Iberia: Análisis historiográfico y arqueológico de la presencia púnica en el sur de la península ibérica. He is a member of several editorial committees in journals, such as Spal, Onoba and Anejos de Anales de Arqueología Cordobesa. He was also sub-​director of the University of Seville Press from 2012 to 2016. Francisco José García Fernández lectures in Archaeology at the University of Seville, where he also obtained his doctorate in History in 2004. He later earned a Master in Sustainable Urbanism and Architecture (2013). He belongs to the research group ‘De la Turdetania a la Bética’ and has participated in numerous national and international projects coordinated by the University of Seville and the University of Málaga. He has also enjoyed various academic stays at universities and research centres (Spanish School of History and Archaeology in Rome, German Archaeological Institute in Berlin, University of Potsdam, and University of Lisbon). He specializes in the Late Iron Age archaeology of Iberia, more specifically the Iron Age communities of Lower Andalusia and their transition towards romanization, from a combined archaeological, historical and anthropological point of view. He has applied diachronic analyses to Graeco-​Roman literature referencing the populations of Tartessus-​Turdetania, while also looking at settlement patterns and models of organization and economic exploitation of these territories, together with the contextual analysis of the material record, in order

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to arrive at broad definitions of the ethnic expression and cultural identity of these populations. Enrique García Vargas lectures in Archaeology at the University of Seville. He obtained his phd at the same university in 1997 with a thesis titled ‘Producción de salazones y salsas saladas de pescado en la Bahía de Cádiz en época romana’. Later on he expanded his research interests to include the archaeology of the economy of the Roman province of Baetica, pottery studies, and territorial archaeology. These topics have been the focus of a varied and extensive career in the archaeology of the Guadalquivir valley, especially relating to the urban archaeology of Seville, which has ultimately led to a better understanding of the ancient urban network (at the urban sites of La Encarnación, Calle San Fernando, Hospital de las Cinco Llagas and Patio de Banderas), as well as others sites in the province of Seville (Écija) and the province of Cádiz (Puerto Real). He is a renowned specialist on the romanization of southern Iberia, endorsed by his participation in research projects funded by the Spanish government:  ‘Sociedad y paisaje. Economía rural y consumo urbano en el sur de la península ibérica (siglos viii A.C. –​II D.C.)’; ‘Sociedad y paisaje. Análisis arqueológico del poblamiento rural en el sur de la península ibérica (siglos viii a.C.-​II d.C.)’ and ‘Antecedentes y desarrollo económico de la romanización en Andalucía Occidental’. Francisco Machuca Prieto holds a doctoral research fellowship at the University of Málaga as of March 2013, enabling him to undergo research on his phd thesis titled La integración de las comunidades fenicias de la Península Ibérica en el Imperio romano: una aproximación poscolonial, directed by Dr. Manuel Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar (uma) and Dr. Eduardo Ferrer Albelda (use). He collaborated on the research project ‘La construcción de la identidad fenicia en el Imperio romano’, funded by the Spanish Ministry of Education and currently takes part in the research group ‘Grupo de Investigación de Estudios Historiográficos’, of the regional government of Andalusia. He is particularly interested in the contributions of post-​colonial theory to the study of the ancient world and identities. He has participated as an invited speaker in the xii Encuentro de Jóvenes Investigadores de Historia Antigua (Madrid, 8-​9 May 2013) and, contributed a poster to the 8º Coloquio Internacional del Centro de Estudios Fenicios y Púnicos (Alicante and Guardamar del Segura, 7-​9 November 2013). He has also been on academic stays for several Months at the University of Durham and the Istituto di Studi sul Mediterraneo Antico at Rome.

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Bartolomé Mora Serrano lectures in Archaeology at the University of Málaga. He has conducted extensive field-​work on the archaeology of Ulterior-​Baetica and his work has taken a particular interest in ancient numismatics, as well as the history of archaeology and numismatics in Spain in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Most of his research has been dedicated to the field of ancient and medieval numismatics in Iberia, including studies on monetary circulation, coin inscriptions and recoining. Of particular relevance are his studies on Punic coinage in Hispania, such as the book dedicated to the mint of Malaca and other aspects of its coinage, such as iconography, metallography or monetary circulation. Pierre Moret educated at the ENS-​Ulm (Paris) and the École des Hautes Études Hispaniques et Ibériques (Madrid), is director of research at the cnrs. His research is centred on the archaeology of Iberia and Mediterranean Gaul in the Iron Age, and on the history of ancient geography. He is author or co-​author of 5 books, the scientific editor of 12 and author of 145 articles and book contributions. Former director of studies at the Casa de Velázquez (2002-​2007) and director of the cnrs laboratory umr 5608 traces in Toulouse (2011-​2014), he led several international archaeological projects and from 2006 to 2009 he organised an international doctoral workshop in Madrid (Casa de Velázquez –​German Archaeological Institute). President of section 32 (Antiquity and Middle Ages) of the National Committee of the cnrs, he is also expert for the French and Spanish agencies for research assessment. He was awarded the cnrs Bronze Medal (1998) and he is an affiliate member of the German Archaeological Institute and the Spanish Academy of History. Ruth Pliego Vázquez Fellow of Institute for Advanced Studies – IEA Paris. Interests have developed mainly around numismatics, although her work does not limit itself to the material analysis of coins, but attempts to offer a historical dimension. One of her lines of research focuses on updating theories on the Carthaginian presence in the Iberian Peninsula during the pre-​Barcid period, based on existing coin evidence. She has redrawn the map of Carthaginian military camps, proposing different chronologies –​prior to or following 237 bce –​according to the available coin evidence. Simultaneously she has developed another research line in numismatics, dedicated to the Visigothic period. She has published monographs in both fields, as well as numerous studies on the economic and political aspects and iconography of late antique coinage.

Chapter 1

Strabo and the Invention of Turdetania Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti The work of recent years has been fundamental in expanding our understanding of how ancient geographers and historians perceived the Iberian ­Peninsula*.1 Strabo’s Book 3 has been central to this effort, as it is a complete source that synthesizes this ancient perception, from Iberia’s first emergence onto the historical and cultural horizon of the Greeks, up to the first century ce. It constitutes a unicum: there is no other ancient text on Iberia that equals it in information or potential for analysis. This chapter will not only focus on the particularities of Strabo’s description of Turdetania. It will also question whether this literary construct may also be explained as a redefinition of Roman imperial ideology and, consequently, of romanization in Hispania. The image of Tartessus as a lost and legendary civilization with which the Greeks developed a special relationship of amicitia at around the seventh century bce, was an idea created by the geographer from Amaseia, one which has been enthusiastically adopted by scholars in Spain and abroad from the nineteenth century onwards.2 Hence, Turdetania, as a corollary of Tartessus, is also a part of Strabo’s carefully crafted narrative.3 From the beginning of Book 3, Strabo clearly attempts to establish a comparison between Turdetania-​Baetica and the remainder of the Iberian territories (although these varied in degrees of transition between barbarianism and civilization). The first is the ideal example of a harmonious coexistence

* orcid: http://​orcid.org/​0000-​0002-​4477-​0715. This paper forms part of three research projects: ‘Ethnic Identities in Southern Spain: Rise and Evolution in Antiquity (7th-2nd centuries BCE)’ (hum 03482), funded by the Council for Innovation, Science and Enterprise of the regional government of Andalusia, ‘Ethnic and Political-​Civic Identity in Roman Spain: The Case of the Turdetania-​Baetica’ (HAR2012–​32588), and ‘Ancient Geography and Historiography: Space Representation and Transmission of Knowledge’ (HAR2016–​76098-​C2–​1-​P), funded by the Ministry of Economics and Competitiveness of Spain; as well as the research group ‘Historiographical Studies Group’ (HUM-​394). 1 In general: Cruz Andreotti, García Quintela, and Gómez Espelosín 2015; especially: Cruz Andreotti, 44–​66. Recently Lowe 2017, 69–​78. 2 Cruz Andreotti 2010, 17–​53. 3 Cruz Andreotti 2007, 251–​270.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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between nature and culture (a central principle of Greek geography), allowing for the expansion of a hitherto unparalleled politeia or political culture, understood in a broad sense, throughout the recently conquered western Mediterranean. From ancient times, the region recorded its laws and history in verse (in contrast to other Iberians, who used writing but were illiterate, Strab. 3.1.6), implying a level of ‘political organization’ and ‘historical consciousness’, which increased gradually over time, leading to the successful development of urbanism, the economy and culture, later to be encountered and reinforced by the Romans, with Gades as the region’s paradigmatic city (Strab. 3.5.3). According to Strabo, Turdetania was the most prosperous territory of the oecumene (­Strab. 3.1.6; 3.2.15), due to the combination of: optimal natural conditions (the balanced mix of farming resources in the valley, sea wealth and mining activity in the mountains, Strab. 3.2.6 to 9); communications (a spacious river structuring the entire territory, Strab. 3.2.3 to 5, and a close knit network of cities and river and sea ports, later expanded by Roman roads, Strab. 3.2.1–​2); and the character of the Turdetanians.4 All the other lands in Iberia (from the coast of the Spanish Levant to those recently conquered by Augustus in the Cantabrian mountains, including the Celtiberian or Vaccean plateaus, Lusitania and Gallaecia), required, to a greater or lesser extent, some kind of Roman intervention to overcome the obstacles posed by barbarianism and the contradictions caused by varying degrees of civilizing development (cf. Strab. 3.4.20). Faced with the isolation caused by dispersed populations and a mountainous geography, the Romans grouped the natives into new cities along well communicated valleys (Strab. 3.3.5; 3.4.9).5 In order to dominate the wild character of some communities, these had to be defeated and pacified (Strab. 3.4.5; 3.4.17). All were forced to adopt cultivated lifestyles (Strab. 3.3.5; 3.3.7–​8). So as to overcome the poverty inherent to ways of life based on plunder and warfare, communities were organized around large urban centres, which distributed and consumed the products of agriculture, herding and commerce. The history of these territories began with the Roman conquest;6 that of Turdetania, on the other hand, was traced to the times of Heracles, when the Greeks and Phoenicians navigated its coastline, constituting the seed of its civilization.7 4 5

6 7

Castro Páez in this same volume. Cf. Strab. 3.4.13 regarding the discussion between Polybius and Posidonius on the extension of inland cities in the Iberian world before the arrival of Rome. Contrary to them, Strabo believed the existence of urban centres in the Celtiberian world before the arrival of Rome was not possible. Ciprés Torres 2012. For the barbarian /​civilization ‘opposition’ found in Strabo’s work, see: Dandrow 2017, 113–​124; Vliet 2003, 257–​272. Especially: Cruz Andreotti and Ciprés Torres 2011, 199–​213;

Strabo and the Invention of Turdetania

3

The role played by Tartessus in Strabo’s narrative is thus clarified. As has been pointed out on several occasions, it was Strabo who constructed the entire ‘mythology’ surrounding this culture:8 from its exclusively indigenous origin, to its association with the arrival of heroes (Heracles, Odysseus) and Phoenician and Greek colonists, and its image as a place of unparalleled wealth and prosperity, which forged the hard-​working, cultured, refined, and hospitable character of the Turdetanians. In order to create this image, Strabo combined ancient sources (from Stesichorus to Anacreon, and Herodotus, Strab. 3.2.11; 3.2.14), with more recent ones (Eratosthenes, Polybius, Posidonius, Artemidorus, etc., Strab. 3.2.11 and passim; Timosthenes, Strab. 3.1.7). He selected the best of Homer, as an informant on these lands during the Archaic period (Strab. 3.2.12 and 13), associating this source especially with the Herculean myth (Strab. 3.2.13); basing himself on the existence of the Heracleion of Gades, the ancient Erythia, Strab. 3.2.11). Strabo even established broad equivalences between Tartessus/​Baetis/​Turdetania in the Hellenistic scholarly fashion (Strab. 3.1.6 and 3.2.11). Everything was aimed at framing Tartessus/​Turdetania/​Baetica as the best example of the possibilities achievable by romanization, aided by such incomparable natural and historical conditions. Tartessus invested Turdetania with ‘historical legitimacy’, and therefore Strabo saw the need to contextualize it in the past.9 The truth is that Turdetania (or Turdetanians) is a place name/​ethnonym that was not recorded before the Roman occupation.10 The explicit link with the Guadalquivir Valley only appears in Strabo and Ptolemy.11 While virtually nothing is known of Strabo’s sources, these are generally considered to be Polybius, Posidonius and Artemidorus, and to a lesser degree, Eratosthenes and Timosthenes, although it is impossible to agree with any certainty on who Strabo bases Turdetania’s geographical adscription and its geo-​historical link to Tartessus.12 Turdetania does not appear in Posidonius or Artemidorus

8 9

10 11 12

Cruz Andreotti 2014; for the entire geographical context before Strabo: Cruz Andreotti 2016a, 274–​297; Cruz Andreotti, Le Roux, and Moret 2006 and 2007. Cruz Andreotti 1993, 2010. If certain hypotheses proposed in the last years are proven to be true, it may very well be that ‘Tartessian’ is an ethnonym, used as a synonym for western Phoenicians, which was used well into the Roman period, and understood both by Greeks and Romans. Vid. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2007, 2010, 2012a. Pierre Moret and F.J. García Fernández in this volume. Ibidem and Moret 2011, 235–​248. It is very significant that the Tartessus in Eratosthenes coincides with the Gaditanian area of influence between Calpe and Erythia, also inhabited by the Turduli (apud Strab. 3.2.11) –​contrary to Artemidorus, who prefers to ‘reinforce’ the role of Cádiz (ibidem and P.Artemid. 4.12). It is also remarkable that Strabo, when speaking of the Tartessous City, locates it in the Tartessis, the region inhabited by the Turduli at the mouth of the

4

Cruz Andreotti

either, while Polybius, Strabo’s other model, does not associate it with central Baetis, but with the Turdulian periphery. Hence, as suggested by Moret, the Turdetania/​Turdetanians found in the sources –​from Cato onwards –​either refer to a city/​territory/​community in the environs of Saguntum, or, more probably, to the periphery of the Guadalquivir Valley (either the Saltus Castulonensis or the area of the mid-​upper Guadiana River, linked to the south-​ western Celts, the Turduli from Extremadura or the southernmost Celtiberians near Carpetania). Strabo’s description of Turdetania is not completely homogenous. On the one hand, it is an area virtually limited to the lower and mid-​Baetis Valley, the core of Baetica province. On the other, there is another Turdetania, lato sensu, which includes the area ‘beyond’ the Guadiana, towards the Celtic-​Lusitanian territory (Strab. 3.2.1), the Bastulo-​Phoenician coast on both sides of the Strait of Gibraltar (Strab. 3.1.7 and 8; 3.2.1), and the southern limits of Bastetania and Carpetania, in the surroundings of Castulo (Strab 3.2.1; 3.2.11). At times, it seems Strabo also echoed the peripheral Turdetania just spoken of. However, the existence of a central, ethnic territory does not exclude the possibility of other, similar territories being harboured inside its limits, specifically: Bastetanians, Bastuli, Turduli, Celts, coastal Phoenicians, etc. This ‘great Turdetania’, was also spoken of by Ptolemy. In Strabo, both ‘Turdetanias’ coexist, although he places more emphasis on the Turdetania that is more ethnically cohesive and geographically homogenous. Located around the Baetis valley, it comprised a string of cities, roads and villas, historically traceable in legends and historical testimonies regarding Tartessus; in sum, an ideal of descriptive geography, which, in modern terms, attempted to join nature and culture harmoniously (Figures 1.1 and 2.2). Clearly, this Strabonian Turdetania is a literary construct, as is a good part of ancient ethnography; from an outsider’s point of view, it defines, bounds and describes a people or community. As much as it may disappoint nineteenth century essentialist philology or most of the twentieth century protohistoric archaeology,13 an ancient geographer or historian was not interested and was not

13

Guadalquivir river, the area of influence of Gadir (Strab. 3.2.11 = Ptol. 2.4.9). It seems that Turdetania is presented in its broadest sense, including the Phoenician (and Turduli) area, which in Strabo’s eyes (and Eratosthenes’ and perhaps Polybius’) coincided with the region of the (ancient) Tartessians, who are also the western Phoenicians (let us not forget they were the discoverers of Iberia, Strab. 3.2.13); a definition which is not explicitly accepted by Strabo. See extensively in Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012b. Bellón Ruiz and García Fernández 2009, 51–​74; García Fernández and Bellón Ruiz 2009, 75–​132; García Fernández and Fernández Götz 2010, 47–​78. Vid. ‘Preface’ in this same ­volume.

Strabo and the Invention of Turdetania

5

Figure 1.1 The Iberia of Strabo. courtesy of counillon 2007, 77.

able to define a culture or an ethnic group in terms that would be understood by us today. This is because their identity markers were completely different to ours; we do not even know if they were reflected in the ‘other’. Observing and assessing a community according to their own cultural and political parameters did not give rise to any contradiction, as there was no other perspective than their own, and in broad terms, no other identity than that of the observer. A perfectly demonstrated ancient ethnos could fulfil any nineteenth century illusion regarding what constituted a ‘people’, a ‘language’ or a ‘culture’.14 With the old paradigm discarded, the challenge faced by ethnohistory is not only to find cultural parameters and historical circumstances to explain the appearance and development of specific literary ethnic groups, but also the elements which defined ancient communities at a determined moment and place. The Strabonian model described for Turdetania is too coherent and articulated to actually respond, even slightly, to reality. As has been exposed by both F.J. García Fernández and E.  Ferrer Albelda (also in this volume), there did not exist a ‘Turdetanian culture’ or an equivalent ethnos. The simple identification between ‘culture’ and ‘people’ is no longer maintained by

14

Cardete del Olmo 2004, 15–​29; Prontera 2003, 103–​120; Cruz Andreotti 2016b.

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anyone, particularly for a territory with such a long and complex history and ethno-​cultural development, and with no genuine ‘identities’ or unifying ethnic groups.15 If forced to choose, the reality would have been much closer to the ethnic melting pot, which is revealed in parts of Strabo’s work, resulting from the sum of many peoples, rather than the stereotypical image of Tartessus/​Turdetania/​Baetica. What, then, constituted Strabo’s Turdetania in reality? Why was it created and for what purpose? These questions should be answered from alternative approaches, since internal readings of the text have already been exhausted. Let us start by highlighting a point that has not been sufficiently dealt with:16 the remarkable presence in southern Iberia of the author Asclepiades of Myrlea, as narrated by Strabo himself (3.4.3 = T4 bnj 697 Trachsel). He was a grammarian and a philologist, originating, like Strabo, from Pontus (Bythinia), and a disciple of Apollonius of Rhodes. According to Strabo, he disembarked in Turdetania after a period in Rome, before the arrival of Artemidorus or Posidonius, closer to the late second century bce than to the early first century bce. Like many Greeks, he lived off his teachings and the dissemination of his works among the young leaders of the Mediterranean power. In his masterpiece, de Nestoris, he interpreted the brief reference to Nestor’s cup in the Iliad (11.632–​ 37) –​only five verses! –​as an allegorical allusion to the heavens, the stars and a spherical universe. He is also known for a Bithyniaká in ten books, where after narrating the country’s mythical and heroic origins (evidently Greek), he went on to describe its geographical and natural peculiarities.17 Apparently, he did the same in his Periegesis on the communities of Iberia, the title of which evokes the old works of the first Ionic writers. There are allusions to this work in Strabo’s Book 3.  These include references to issues directly associated with the presence of Homeric heroes in Iberia (not only Turdetania), although more generally, in the use of homophones and etymologies to establish analogies between mythical and real geographies, or between the ancient and the new. Asclepiades is no doubt the source for references to a city, Odysseia, which lay behind Abdera (the current Adra, Almería) and to the remains of a temple of Athena, which still held votive offerings of the hero’s passing (Strab. 3.2.13; 3.4.3 = F7 bnj 697 Trachsel). There is also a reference to the Heraclean colonization, and Strabo attributes the foundation of cities in the north-​west to diverse Trojan heroes: Helenus, Amphilochus, Ocelas (all in 15 16 17

As will be demonstrated below. Very partially in the works of F. Gascó (1987, 1994), M. Salinas (1994), L.A. García Moreno (1979 = 2001, 2011); recently Prontera 2017. For the works of Asclepiades vid. L. Pagani (2007), especially the introductory chapter.

Strabo and the Invention of Turdetania

7

Strab. 3.4.3 = F7 bnj 697 Trachsel). Finally, his concern for the different names given to Iberia from the remote past (Strab. 3.4.19 = F8 bnj 697 Trachsel) is also part of a general interest for etymology throughout the work. It is very probable that the derivation Tartarus-​Tartessus also came from the same source (Strab. 3. 2.12), as well as the references to the ancient and proverbial Turdetanian culture (Strab. 3.1.6). Although Strabo does not explicitly acknowledge it, it may well be that most of his elaborate identification between the Tartessian past and the Turdetanian present came from Asclepiades.18 He is not the only one to address the heroic origins of ancient communities, which are interpreted to convenience. It is from Posidonius and Artemidorus, who presumably made use of Asclepiades, that Strabo came in contact with the author, although they used the source from a more critical perspective.19 In sum, a classical model for the reconstruction of origins is presented, where a foundational hero names and founds cities, conquers and organizes territories; a history which is preserved in etymology and even in the archaeological record, reinforcing the authority and validity of the literary tradition.20 Asclepiades introduces, as a novelty, a foundational network for Iberia, which practically did not exist in the preceding tradition, due to the frailty of Greek colonization, and was not seen until the arrival of Rome.21 As pointed out by E.J. Bickerman,22 the Greek vision on the origin of humanity is largely adaptable to local traditions and situations because there was no written canon: its genealogical structure was etymological in nature, and therefore easily multiplied, developed and adapted to varied cultural and political contexts. The hellenization of the southern territories, observed in Asclepiades/​Strabo, which could explain the ‘Turdetanian question’, is also related to a deeply relevant and wider phenomenon:  the recovery of the Homeric tradition in Greek Hellenistic culture. Homer’s particular role in ethno-​geography acquired a new dimension when the knowledge on the oecumene was finally 18 19

20 21 22

Polybius, one of Strabo’s authors of reference, is very critical of the use of marvellous pasts in historical works (for example: Polyb. 16.12.9); he does not mention Tartessus, although he does locate the Turduli next to the Turdetanians. References to one and the other are continuous (vid. the excessively descriptive work of Morr 1926). For the relationship between Asclepiades, Posidonius, Artemidorus and Strabo vid. Trotta (1999), who sharply critiques the positions of Lasserre and García Bellido on Strabo’s sources (in the editions/​translations of the geographer). The recent synthesis of Martínez-​Pinna (2008), with new analyses, should be considered jointly with the known work of García Bellido (1948). Domínguez Monedero 1998. Bickerman 1952. An underutilized work with intuitive suggestions; specifically, when dealing with this ‘generalized hellenization of origins’ it briefly references the Periegesis of Asclepiades (p. 69). Recently, Schepens and Bollansée 2004.

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bounded on the east and the west. The polemic on Homer’s authority in more recent times developed in a context of proliferation and specialization of knowledge. Each field of knowledge was preceded by an ‘academic genealogy’, where an ‘updated and modern’ Homer could have been, for some, a first landmark in the aspirations of any discipline. With the definition of Ocean as a central theme, the horizon of the archaic Homeric geography was widened. However, geographical features were still given place names and identified with phenomena described by the father of Greek culture, including tides, winds, the insularity of oecumene or the spherical condition of Earth.23 If in the Late Archaic and Classical periods, Epic mythology gradually moved west, in a natural tendency to culturally appropriate newly discovered spaces,24 then as of the early Hellenistic period, this allegorical interpretation of Homer took a step further. Ultimately, Greeks were becoming conscious of their antiquity and claiming the pre-​eminence of Greek culture as the first interpreter of the known world;25 they also claimed poetry (although not without polemic) as the literary genre par excellence, and the base of all learning and critique in the Hellenistic schools and academies.26 23

24 25

26

Prontera 1993. The most exaggerated case is found in Crates of Mallus. His eagerness to attribute to Homer the origin of every discovery led him to build a sphere, three metres in diameter, with which he explained to the Roman public his theories, viewing the quadripartite division of the hemispheres, with the river Ocean acting as a frontier, as no more than a projection of the journeys of the Trojan heroes and a relocation of the mythical landscapes, for which he was harshly criticized by Aristarchus, Hipparchus and Geminus (Prontera 2017). Prontera 2004. A discussion which goes back a long way: cf. for example, the debate between Herodotus and Hecataeus relative to the presumed antiquity of Greek culture in the light of the Egyptian culture (Hdt. 2.143 ff.). Following a ‘Homeric interpretation’ of the past, the Herculean saga played a fundamental role in western history, as the articulator of an ancient genealogy (vid. Giovannelli-​Jouanna 2004). In many cases, the search for erudition led authors to lose perspective over what was ancient and modern, even in geography, as would be denounced by Eratosthenes: “You will find the scene of the wanderings of Odysseus when you find the cobbler who sewed up the bag of the winds” (in Strab. 1.2.15), alluding to the well-​known passage of the Odyssey (10.1–​27) in which Aeolus gives Odysseus the bag holding all the winds, which led to all destinations, while discussing the famed passage of Aristotle, in which poetry is defended as an equally valid form of knowledge as history (Poet. 1451a–​b). There is an extensive bibliography on the role of Homer in Greek culture, particularly in education, and on the significance of Alexandrian ‘textual criticism’, specifically in the re-​elaboration of works, literary genres and styles. For Homer, and poetry in general, in Strabo vid. Dueck 2005, Biraschi 2005 and Alganza 2008; for ‘textual criticism’ and the need to establish texts as the base for knowledge vid. Pagani 2011 (note: Crates and Asclepiades were both grammarians!).

Strabo and the Invention of Turdetania

9

In this context, Iberia became a definite part of the Greek geographical horizon, particularly as of Eratosthenes.27 The broad polemic between Dicaearchus, Eratosthenes, Hipparcchus, Pytheas, Polybius, Artemidorus and Posidonius, in which Strabo finally intervenes, on the form and extent of the Iberian Peninsula, was part of a wider geographical debate, including the delineation of the European Atlantic coast, the final extent of the diaphragm of the oecumene, the northern limits of the inhabited world or the definition of the outer ocean.28 These issues questioned the importance of Homer in relation to other, ancient or modern, ‘discoverers’ or ‘dilettantes’ of far off lands (particularly Pytheas). A careful autopsy was demanded as a mechanism for the refutation or reaffirmation of the readings of Homer, interpreted in geographical terms. Strabo is the last in a chain of scholars and scientists who believed that the logic derived from ancient texts, conveniently analysed, was a more prestigious source of geographical knowledge than the one derived from empirical experience of travel and commerce. If Strabo’s model of Turdetania, reconstructed in terms of epic history, did in fact originate from Asclepiades, this implies that the latter arrived to Iberia to teach and that his work was sufficiently well known to have reached Artemidorus and Posidonius (in Iberia?), before finally being picked up by Strabo. While Greek culture and signs of identity spread to places which were colonized from ancient times (hence the repeated local traditions among the nostoi of Sicily and Magna Graecia), the novelty lies in the extension of this phenomenon to the western Roman provinces. F. Gascó29 suggested that this could be explained by the presence of a significant number of Greek colonizers from southern Italy in Iberia, potential disciples of Asclepiades. But why not explain such a phenomenon as a wider consequence of romanization? Greek origins would no longer be an exclusive ethnic attribute, but rather, a common heritage, shared by sectors of the population, integrated by Roman political hegemony and culture.30 Hellenization was never a homogenous cultural phenomenon. Several local variations appeared –​as first suggested by A. Momigliano31 –​which struggled against each other to gain supremacy. Much has been written on the hellenization of Roman origins.32 In the eastern Mediterranean, which developed and 27 28 29 30 31 32

In general: Cruz Andreotti 2016a. Prontera 2006, 15–​29; 2007, 49–​63; Moret 2017, 182–​186. Gascó 1994. In contrast, Dandrow interprets this ‘Strabonian Hellenization’ as a sort of cultural resistance to Rome: Dandrow 2017, 121–​122; contra Johnston 2017, 125–​189. Momigliano 1975. Gabba 1974; Ferrary 1988; recently: Martínez-​Pinna 2014.

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shared a common poliad identity with the Greeks (the base of Classical identity), numerous communities competed among themselves for prestige and the antiquity of their foundations and traditions, re-​elaborating their ancestral legends and adapting them to the new world.33 This was undoubtedly the base for the progressive construction of a shared cultural heritage in many different environments, which in turn created a base for the formation of leading urban elites, at both ends of the Mediterranean, and which allowed for the free circulation of ideas, books and scholars.34 However, this phenomenon is not limited to the eastern Mediterranean. Hellenization in the West is also a subject of debate among historians and archaeologists, an even more complex issue because it involved native societies with different degrees of socio-​political development, joined in a poliad world (Greek, Punic and Roman), which although militarily opposed, shared ways of life and cultural tendencies of all kinds.35 The introduction of Greek, Carthagi­ nian or Italian ideas in Iberia intensified as of the third century bce, as a result of a complex process of reinterpretation of these ideas which affected the entire Mediterranean. Over the base of Greek cultural standards –​assumed by everyone as superior –​different layers of diverse cultural evolution, including the Roman, were superimposed, creating hybrid phenomena of ‘cultural confluence’, of which Rome was the main promoter, to the point that ‘hellenization’ and ‘romanization’ became two sides of the same coin.36 Some years ago, emphasis was placed on the positive role played by Phoenicians in Strabo’s historical scheme, for they constituted the link between the ‘mythical period’ and the ‘historical period’, as well as a key element in the transmission of western history to the Greeks.37 Recently, the topic has been extensively and conclusively dealt with,38 suggesting that the cultivated Tartessian-​Turdetanian world, recreated by Strabo, with its own literature and historical memory, actually reflected the powerful western Phoenician world (with Gades at the head),39 the identity of which was still alive and integrated 33

34 35 36 37 38 39

For the Phoenician world, so influential in southern Iberia, see: Millar 1983. C. López Ruiz (2010, among others) has masterfully developed the confluence between the Greek and Semitic world during the Archaic period, which leads one to believe that it was not a purely Hellenistic phenomenon; in the Roman period, Philo of Byblos was a paradigmatic case (vid. Kaldellis and López-​Ruiz 2009). Erskine 2005. Vid. Prag and Quinn 2013. Keay 2013; see Dandrow’s opposed opinion in note 31. Cruz Andreotti 2004, especially 269–​70; and 2008, especially pp. 208–​10. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012b. In fact Strabo attributed to the Phoenicians the ancestral domain of southern land on the Iberian peninsula (Strab. 1.1.4; 1.3.2; 3.2.13; 3.2.14; 17.3.15).

Strabo and the Invention of Turdetania

11

into an ongoing process of romanization because they shared a common civic tradition.40 Hybrid provincial elites, which began assuming Graeco-​Roman signs of identity, did not exclude, rather to the contrary –​they revived ancient western myths regarding Heracles (as shown in the coinage),41 as well as a whole cultural background surrounding the idea of Tartessus/​Turdetania as a common historical space.42 In this context, ancient Semitic foundational rituals became fully integrated in the new world.43 Considering Strabo and Turdetania in this light, it would be reasonable to suggest that Asclepiades found this environment favourable to teach grammar (that is, Classical culture) and write his Periegesis.44 It was a civic and learned environment, developed in the sphere of a widespread, Greek culture, perfectly able to understand an aggregate ethnic concept such as ‘Turdetanian’ (associated to Tartessus and the Greek historical-​mythological tradition). This idea was a unifying point of reference for a cultural setting, which had already been multicultural for generations,45 but where Hellenism –​now represented by Rome –​played a central role in the construction of identity.46 From this perspective, we can now gain a better understanding of Strabo’s final, extensive paragraph, on the Turdetanian’s ‘civilized customs’ and their ‘capacity to live in society’, which allowed them to adopt the Roman character (which facilitated

40 41 42 43 44 45

46

In a recent work, P. Xella (2014) denies the existence of a Phoenician ‘ethnic identity’ as such, claiming that what may have existed was a ‘civic identity’, which represented that which has conventionally come to be known as Phoenician. Mora Serrano 2011a, 2013; Mora Serrano and Cruz Andreotti 2012a. All of this was already put forth by Martín Almagro-​Gorbea (2005), although this author, following his essentialist background, always traces back to the Archaic period. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014b. For the combination of tradition and innovation, in order to understand the ‘hellenization’ of Phoenicia as of the Alexandrian conquest, see Bonnet 2014, 282–​298. Prontera 2017 sees the inclusion of the Phoenicians in Strabo’s scheme as more a contribution of Posidonius than of Asclepiades; it is true that the Phoenicians in Strabo appear on occasion as explicit references from Posidonius and Artemidorus. As exposed above, the idea that there never existed a homogenous Turdetanian culture has been growing in strength in recent years (F.J. García Fernández in this volume and 2012, with all the maps). If the different populations and areas of ethno-​cultural predominance are plotted on a map of Strabo’s Turdetania, the result is that they overlap each other. This hybrid approach to romanization in Hispania, especially in the south, presided over the last great academic event on the subject (Santos Yanguas and Cruz Andreo­ tti 2012). From this perspective, it has been suggested that Posidonius, Artemidorus, and particularly Asclepiades, arrived in Iberia and wrote on the ‘ancient history’ of Iberia from a Greek point of view because they found a cultural ground that was fertile and receptive (Woolf 2011, especially 24–​27).

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their promotion to the ‘Latin’ status, the last step in their progression), and finally led them to forget their native language, all of which contributed to their qualifying as togati, a synonym for ‘civilized behaviour’ (in Strab. 3.2.15). Are Strabo’s references to a certain ‘hellenization’ of a Gaditanian temple or the ‘500 Gaditanian equites’ a coincidence? Probably not. Let us recall that precisely in that moment, the Gaditanian Balbus was becoming the first non-​ Italian consul of Rome. Analogies or equivalencies were not at all innocent. The invention of Strabo’s Turdetania is much more than a literary construct or the idea of the author or his sources. It was a classical reference at the service of Romanism. Asclepiades knew it and went to Baetica to teach grammar, that is, the common culture, as he did in Rome.47 It is not a coincidence either that Turdetania should have disappeared with Pliny. The identity references singled out by Pliny are civic-​ political, not ethno-​cultural. Turdetania, an ethnonym used in the latter sense, was no longer an identity reference. Romanization had entered another phase, which deserves a chapter of its own.48

47 48

Certain references in the sources could be better understood this way, as when Artemidorus states that the Iberians of the coast used a grammar much like the Italian (frg. 22 Stiehle). Ciprés Torres 2014, esp. 2016.

Chapter 2

Historians vs. Geographers: Divergent Uses of the Ethnic Name Turdetania in the Greek and Roman Tradition Pierre Moret The ancient geographic names Turdetania and Turdetani suffered great displacements and changes in meaning throughout their history.* They are first mentioned by Cato, who located them in central Iberia, reappearing later with Strabo in the Guadalquivir Valley and finally with Ptolemy in southern Portugal. A first clue to unravelling this instability may be found in their etymology, for Turdetania and Turdetani are Roman creations, as revealed by their suffixes,1 and not indigenous names transcribed into Latin. From this standpoint, the reasons for these changes are not only due to different chronological phases in the geographical discovery of Iberia, but also, as will be seen ahead, to the use given to these names by different authors. Traditional scholarship minimized and overlooked contradictions in the literary sources because it aimed at ascribing the different communities mentioned in the sources with clearly defined locations on an ethnographic map of ancient Hispania. According to historical geographers of the beginning of the twentieth century, Strabo was the accepted source for the location of Turdetania, placing it in the Guadalquivir Valley, in the middle of Baetica. At the end of the twentieth century, archaeology based itself on this assumption to name an archaeological culture, which developed in the lower Guadalquivir during the Late Iron Age. However, when considering the history of this geographical concept, contradictions in the sources are just as important or revealing as their similarities. It is not a question of deciding who was closer * This paper forms part of three research projects:  ‘Ethnic identities in southern Spain:  Rise and Evolution in Antiquity 7th-2nd centuries BCE)’ (hum 03482), funded by the Council for Innovation, Science and Enterprise of the regional government of Andalusia, ‘Ethnic and Political-​Civic identity in Roman Spain: The Case of the Turdetania-​Baetica’ (har2012–​32588), and ‘Ancient Geography and Historiography: Space Representation and Transmission of Knowledge’ (HAR2016–​76098-​C2–​1-​P), funded by the Ministry of Economics and Competitiveness of Spain. All translations from greek and latin texts in this paper are the author’s. 1 Faust 1966, 21–​27.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

14 Moret to the indigenous reality, Livy, Appian, Strabo, Pliny or Ptolemy. Such a search is condemned to fail because the creators of the ethnonym and subsequent users of the word never envisioned the criteria we deem necessary to define a culture or ethnic group. Our goal here is different: we seek to identify historically determining factors, which may be literary or ideological, in order to explain the metamorphosis of the concept ‘Turdetania’, from a Greek and Roman ­perspective. 1

Historians and their Different ‘Turdetanias’

Generally, the starting point for any reflection on the meaning of a name referring to a community found on the periphery of the ancient world is the data given by geographers, because they are usually more coherent and detailed than the information provided by historians. The reverse order will be followed here, simply because this is one of the few cases in which there is a specific historical context for the birth of the choronym Turdetania, namely the official report by Cato, when he finished his command in Hispania. Cato and Livy 1.1 Livy tells us that, in order to declare war on Saguntum in 219 bce, Hannibal used as a pretext the conflict existing between the city and various neighbouring peoples (cum finitimis), although he only mentions one of them, the Turdetani (21.6.1).2 They are cited once again by Livy in 214, when, at the hands of the Romans, ‘the Turdetani, who had brought about the war between Saguntum and Carthage, were reduced to subjection and sold as slaves; their city was utterly destroyed’ (24.42.11). It may be deduced from this epilogue that the Turdetani only possessed one city, and that, as a population, they were numerically not very large, for they could be sold as slaves in their totality. They are mentioned for the last time in a speech pronounced in 205 by the Saguntine ambassadors before the Roman senate (28.39.8–​12). They recalled with satisfaction that the city of these ‘ancestral enemies’ had been destroyed. It is hereby confirmed that the Turdetani in Livy’s Books 21–​28 were a small community of eastern Iberia, structured around one city. It is worth mentioning that the narration of Appian on the same events (Hisp. 10) identifies the enemies of Saguntum with another name: Torbolêtes.

2 Polybius also refers to this local conflict, although briefly and without providing names (3.15.8).

Historians vs. Geographers

15

The names Turdetani and Turdetania appear twice again in the part of Livy’s work that has been preserved. During the Battle of Ilipa, in 206 bce, Attenes, king of the Turdetani, switched sides with his troops, abandoning the Carthaginians (28.15.14–​15). Unfortunately, the sentence lacks any sort of topographical indication locating the provenance of these Turdetani. Finally, in ­chapters 17–​20 of Book 24, Livy narrates the campaign of Cato and his commanders against some Turdetani or Turduli (he uses both terms indifferently, sometimes only a few lines apart) in a region called Turdetania. This campaign began with a combined operation of the praetor P.  Manlius, from Citerior, and Ap. Claudius Nero, from Ulterior, who joined Cato, in order to penetrate Turdetania. The Turdetani had secured reinforcements from Celtiberian mercenaries, who camped nearby (ch. 19.2). Livy tells us besides that these Celtiberians had left most of their equipment at a certain distance of the camps, in an oppidum called Seguntia (19.10). After a series of confusing diplomatic and military manoeuvres, Cato, abruptly and unexpectedly, withdrew in the direction of the Ebro Valley, in order to launch operations against other communities between the Ebro River and the Pyrenees (19.11 ff.). This story is completed by a passage found in the preceding book and by fragments from Cato himself. At the end of Book 33, Livy mentions an oppidum Turda (44.4), in a chapter narrating the attack launched in 196 bce by Q. Minucius Thermus, praetor at the time in command of Citerior. In two fragments from the speech De consulatu suo, dated c. 191/​190 bce, Cato tells of his march in Turtam, ‘towards Turta’, sometime during the campaign of 195.3 This Turta and the oppidum Turda from Book 33 are probably the same city, an eponym for the Turdetani.4 In sum, Turdetani and Turdetania appear in the work of Livy in three different historical contexts: between 219 and 205 bce in relation to Saguntum, constituting only one city; in 206 bce, as part of the indigenous contingents taking part in the Battle of Ilipa, in the Guadalquivir Valley, although in this case, only the name of the king, Attenes, is known, and not the geographical origin; and in 195 bce, during Cato’s campaign south of the Ebro –​on this occasion the Turdetani were a much larger group, maintaining close links with the Celtiberians. The assumption that it was the same people in the three episodes implies grave incongruences. The most serious (although not the one most frequently discussed by scholars) is the presumed virtual annihilation of the Turdetani in 3 Fr. 29 and 30 Sblendorio (Cugusi and Sblendorio 2001, 272):  Cato says he moves forward, towards Turta, in aid of the army of Manlius. 4 The consonantal variation in the Latin transcription, Turta/​Turda, may be caused by peculiarities in Iberian phonology (Faust 1966, 22–​23).

16 Moret 214 bce. Although their city had been destroyed and all of their men had been sold into slavery, they appear twenty years later as a regional power and one of the most resistant adversaries encountered by Cato in Hispania. There has been no lack of proposals by modern historians for the resolution of these contradictions.5 It is commonly assumed that the name given by Livy to the neighbours of the Saguntines is not the correct one, due to an involuntary mistake, confusion, or a voluntary substitution.6 As for the Turdetania in Book 34, most authors think that the battle took place in the Guadalquivir Valley, according to the geographical delimitation of the Turdetanian territory found in Strabo and Ptolemy, and that Cato moved thereafter to the northern Meseta, as he assaulted a town named Seguntia that has been identified with Sigüenza, Segontia Arevacorum in Pliny’s lists (nh 3.27).7 However, another five Segontia or Seguntia may be found in Hispania.8 This name derives from the Celtic root sego-​, which belongs to the semantic field related to victory.9 It is one of the most common toponymic elements among Celtic cities in Hispania, therefore, it is very possible that early in the second century bce there existed other Seguntiae, which were not recorded in imperial written sources. The question may be approached from another perspective, as suggested by Robert Knapp in an underappreciated paper. Throughout the entirety of his preserved work, Livy never uses the words Turdetania, Turdetani or Turduli to refer to the inhabitants of the Guadalquivir Valley or the Punic area of southern Iberia,10 whether in general descriptions or military accounts. The only names used in these instances, relating to historical contexts in southern Iberia, more specifically in the Baetis Valley, are Tartesii (23.26.5 ff.), Baeturia (33.21.8, 39.30.1) and Baetica (38.2.15). Although this may appear shocking at first, the truth is that Turdetania was not used by annalists or historians of the Second Punic War to designate the region, which was later identified with this name by Strabo. On the other hand, there are strong indications that the homonymy of 218 and 195 bce was the result of an intervention by Livy.11 When narrating the 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Bibliography on the topic is extensive. Basic orientations in Astin 1978, 29 and 41; Knapp 1980; Uroz Sáez 1982; García Fernández 2003, 78–​79; García Riaza 2006, 83–​86. For a detailed account on the hypotheses concerning the genesis of Turdetania in the environs of Saguntum, see Uroz Sáez 1982; García Fernández 2003; Moret 2011. Schulten 1935, 188–​90, followed by various authors, cited by García Riaza 2006, 84. Tovar 1989, 347, 365, 375 and 413. Delamarre 2003, 269. Knapp 1980, 49–​51. From this point onwards, my analysis diverges from Knapp (1980), for this author proposes in fine the identification between Turda and Turbula.

Historians vs. Geographers

17

conquest of Hispania, Livy did not simply summarize or paraphrase his sources. He resorted to all kinds of literary resources (simplifications, omissions, emphasis on determined characters12 or scenes), in order to present events in Hispania the most straightforward way possible, limiting the use of strange names, which were confusing and difficult to memorize. He adapted and simplified in his own way the ethnic map used by his annalistic sources, omitting certain names and merging others. This is what may have happened with the root Turd-​, found in Cato, and the element Turb-​ or Torb-​from ­Appian’s ­Torbolêtes. Livy would have kept the only similar name in use during his time: Turdetani. It is not an isolated case: the same procedure of forcefully creating homonyms is sensed in north-​eastern Hispania, between the Ausetani of Plana de Vic and lower Aragon.13 The only thing that may be said of the root Turb-​ or Torb-​is that it is probably indigenous in origin, with a lexical parallel found in the Iberian epigraphy of northern Catalonia.14 As for the location of the Torbolêtes, the close similarity between this name and the place name Tourboula, mentioned by Ptolemy (2.6.60), cannot be a coincidence, firstly because they are both hapax, and secondly because, in Ptolemy’s map, Tourboula is placed relatively close to Saguntum, at the juncture between the two main mountain ranges in Citerior: Idubeda and Orospeda (Figure 2.4). This representation of Iberia’s orography helps explain a phrase found in Polybius, referring to Saguntum, which ‘lies on the seaward foot of the range of mountains connecting Iberia and Celtiberia’ (3.17.2). Tourboula is located precisely in the middle of the mountains mentioned by Polybius, which cannot be a coincidence. The topographical information collected by Ptolemy derives almost certainly from a source in which Tourboula was the capital of a homonym community15 in the vicinity of Saguntum. The case of the Turdetani in Book 34 is very different. The form of the ethnonym is confirmed, as seen previously, by the reference to an oppidum Turda at the end of Book 33 and a place called Turta in two fragments of Cato. On the other hand, the use of the name Turdetani in a comedy by Plautus,16 staged for 12 13 14 15 16

This is the case, for example, of Indibilis and Mandonius, which Livy portrays differently from Polybius (cf. Moret 1997). Cf. Benavente et al. 2003, 243. Moncunill Martí 2015, 79: turba in an inscription, which was probably funerary, in Les Corts (Empúries). The ending -​êtes is a Greek suffix recorded in the composition of place names of the time of the Second Punic War (Faust1966, 34–​38). Captivi vv. 162–​63. It belongs to a list of ethnonyms used in culinary puns: Pistorenses/​ pistor (baker), Placentini/​placentum (cake), Turdetani/​turdus (thrush), etc.

18 Moret the first time between 195–​190 bce,17 proves that it was Cato who, returning to Rome, introduced the Latinized name. It was created to designate one of the peoples he claimed to have subdued in Hispania, awarding it fleeting popularity, which had not yet passed when Plautus wrote the Captivi. Therefore, both the name of the city, Turta/​Turda, and the name of the corresponding community, the Turdetani, were first transmitted by Cato. Where to situate the Turdetani from Turta/​Turda? As mentioned previously, the majority of scholars do not hesitate in locating the territory in the Guadalquivir Valley, as described by Strabo. However, this location in southern Hispania, in the midst of the Ulterior province, presents significant difficulties. Firstly, let us not forget, this was the most urbanized region in Hispania –​the future Baetica –​where names were already known for a dozen cities that were already very developed before the arrival of Rome: Castulo, Iliturgi, Obulco, Carmo, Asta, etc. Turta, as a capital, would logically occupy a superior rank to all of these cities, although no other trace of its existence is to be found in the sources dealing with southern Iberia, nor in the epigraphy of Baetica. Secondly, the geopolitical and historical context of Iberia in 195 bce, when Cato arrived in Hispania, was particularly complex for the Romans, who were penned in their coastal bases after the revolt of numerous communities. The territories, which they still controlled –​the coast of Catalonia, the lower basin of the Ebro, the coast of Valencia, the area of Carthago Nova, Gades and a part of the lower Guadalquivir –​were separated from each other by wide regions which had become hostile due to the rebellions of 197 bce. In such circumstances, the mission of the governors in Hispania during that decade consisted in re-​establishing and maintaining the territorial continuity between Citerior and Ulterior through the strategic axis Tarragona-​Saguntum-​Castulo-​Gades, which demanded great efforts in the intermediate area of the saltus Castulonensis, a region which remained insecure until the end of the Republic.18 They also had to control the axis Carthago Nova-​Castulo, connected by the Segura and the Guadiana Menor rivers. Once this strategic line was controlled, they had to expand progressively throughout the Guadiana Basin, in Oretanian territory, and later throughout the Tajo Basin, in Carpetania. This prudent strategy becomes evident in the military operations undertaken during the years following Cato’s campaign (Figure  2.1). In the brief reports, transmitted by Livy, for the years 194–​190 bce, all of the identified

17 18

Franko 1995, 169. Spranger 1958, 101–​108; Sillières 1990, 261–​274, 549 and 567; Cadiou 2008, 418–​420.

Historians vs. Geographers

19

Figure 2.1 Military operations south of the Ebro in the years 197–​190, according to Livy. after moret 2011, modified.

cities are located along the itinerary Sucro-​Castulo-​Cádiz, except Toletum (Figure 2.2).19 For several years, the Roman generals concentrated their efforts along this vital communication route, in order to avoid incursions and choke revolts, in the core of the territories conquered by Scipio ten years before. No doubt, it was also in this region that Cato confronted the Turdetani. Is it possible to be more precise? Cato’s Turdetania was not a great region, rich in natural resources, as would be later the Turdetania of Strabo. It was a territory defined according to a city called Turda or Turta. It could have been located in the upper Guadalquivir Basin, or even in the saltus Castulonensis, between Castulo and Saetabi. In the absence of a reliable place name,20 the only two elements which could be considered in identifying its location are the military movements of the Roman armies and Livy’s reference to bordering territories. 19 20

Livy 35.1.1; 35.1.11; 35.7.7; 35.7.8; 35.22.6–​7; 35.22.5; 37.46.7. Commentaries on the questioned cases in Moret 2011. To my knowledge, there is no other name in the written sources or inscriptions, after Cato, which may be related to Turda/​Turta.

20 Moret

Figure 2.2 Turdetania in Strabo’s Iberia. shape of iberia as in moret 2015; limits of lusitania, following 3.4.20.

In the early moments of conquest, the movement of an army from the Ebro to the heart of the Baetis Valley could take over three weeks.21 However, the narration of the military movements of Cato and his commander Manlius from ­chapter 16 in Book 34 does not portray a long and enduring expedition. Cato does not seem to have any difficulty at all in passing from the Ebro territory to Turdetania and vice versa, according to the needs of the moment. On the other hand, Livy clearly states that Nero’s troops, stationed until then in Ulterior, were transferred to join Manlius, when the latter decided to attack the Turdetani (ch. 17.1). If the territory of the Turdetani had been located in the Baetis Valley, it would be reasonable to suggest that Livy would have inverted the roles of Manlius and Nero, as argued by R. Knapp.22 If the troops sent by 21 22

Traveling at an iustum iter of 25 km per day (Cadiou 2008, 427). 1980, 50. This author also observes that Nero, the governor of Ulterior, sent part of his troops to Turdetania, but did not go with them (ibid. 53). This means Turdetania was outside his jurisdiction.

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21

Nero moved away from their bases in Ulterior and Manlius moved away from the Ebro Valley, leaving Cato behind, it follows that the Turdetani were located in an intermediate area, between the Júcar and upper Guadalquivir rivers. On the other hand, the only geographical reference provided by Livy places the Turdetani as neighbours of the Celtiberians. This is deduced from ­chapter 19, in which military operations begin in Turdetania, near the camps of the Turdetani and their ‘mercenary’ neighbours, the Celtiberians.23 After a few skirmishes and confusing negotiations, ‘when the consul failed to draw the enemy into battle, he first sent a few light-​armed cohorts out to ravage the fields of a region hitherto unattacked, then, hearing that the baggage and equipment of the Celtiberians was all at Seguntia, he proceeded to attack that town’ (ch. 19.9–​10). The fact that Cato moved towards Seguntia with only a few troops and without baggage, clearly indicates that Turdetania bordered Celtiberia, and that Seguntia, the operational base of the Celtiberians, was relatively near the frontier between both territories. This fact alone should suffice to end the debate on a location in the mid and lower Guadalquivir Valley, strengthening the possibility of a location in the southern Meseta, perhaps in the area of the saltus Castulonensis (Figure 2.1). Celtiberia began immediately to the north of this area, in Segobriga,24 caput Celtiberiae (Pliny nh 3.25). Lastly, the only indigenous names showing certain similarities with Turdetania, and particularly with Cato’s Turta, are anthroponyms from the Ebro Valley: Turtumelis,25 Turtunaz and Turtunta,26 all three originating from the same root Turtun-​. The base may be Iberian,27 although a possible adscription to Celtiberia should not be completely ruled out, if linking the word to Tortonda, a current place name from the eastern Meseta.28 All things considered, the name is closer to the northern Iberian or Celtiberian spheres than to the ethnic and linguistic sphere of Baetica. In sum, Turdetani is a name created, or first brought to Rome, by Cato, for his triumph in 194 bce. It is mentioned in Plautus’ Captivi shortly after, indicating that the ethnonym was used in some sort of official speech or account 23 24 25 26 27

28

The term used by Livy may be hiding another reality: a circumstantial coalition or alliance between native communities. A name constructed from the root sego-​, such as Seguntia in book 34. It is one of the names in the turma Salluitana (cil I2 709). In the third Bronze of Botorrita (Beltrán Lloris et al. 1996, iii.31 and iii.38). According to Bernardo Stempel (2013, 638), the base is Iberian with Celtiberian suffixes, indicating gender; Turtun-​az being masculine and Turtun-​ta femenine. *Turtun-​belis is an Iberian compound name. See also Turtular, inscribed on a dolium in Ensérune (Untermann 1980, B.1.367). In the province of Guadalajara (Villar 1995, 75–​76).

22 Moret by the consul, together with the place name Turta (or Turda?). At first, Turdetani designated a community from Citerior, bordering the southern Celtiberians, unrelated to the territories, which would later become part of the Baetica province. In other words, there was no connection with what Strabo called Turdetani and Turdetania. In Books 33–​34 of the History of Rome, Livy recovers Cato’s names (Turta/​Turda, Turdetani, Turdetania), but never uses them to speak of Baetica or any part of it. On the other hand, Livy mistakenly uses the same names Turdetani and Turdetania to designate, in Books 21, 24 and 28, the enemies of Saguntum, whose actions indirectly contributed to the outbreak of the Second Punic War. Fortunately, the real name of the small community in the environs of Saguntum, Torbolêtes, was preserved by Appian, and the name of its capital, Torbola or Turbula, by Ptolemy. Polybius and Appian 1.2 Virtually nothing has been preserved of Polybius’ geographical descriptions, which may have mentioned Turdetania. We only know that he differentiated two groups, the Turdetani and the Turduli, the latter to the north of the former.29 The brief reference does not mention the geographical positions of these two neighbouring communities. Nevertheless, Strabo (3.2.15) adds some information to Polybius’ notion of Turdetania which has not been sufficiently assessed by recent scholarship. When speaking of the civilizing influence exerted by the Turdetani over the Celtici of south-​west Iberia, he points out ‘vicinity’ as the main cause, and mentions that Polybius has a differing opinion, explaining it rather in terms of kinship. Despite its brevity, such an indication opens interesting perspectives. The relationship between Turdetani and Celtici in Polybius echoes half a century later Cato’s Turdetani/​Celtiberi, suggesting affinities with the central and western Celtic spheres in Hispania, rather than with the coastal Punic world and lower Guadalquivir. Appian mentions a region called ‘Turditania’ four times in the book of his Roman History dedicated to Iberia, although with scant geographical data. According to his narrative for the years 212–​211 bce (Hisp. 16), the Carthaginians wintered in Turdetania, while the Romans did so in the mid-​Baetis Valley, Gnaeus Cornelius Scipio in Urso (Osuna) and his brother Publius in Castulo. The Turdetania occupied by the Carthaginians could be located more to the south, in the lower Baetis Valley. However, when war resumed the next summer, the Carthaginians attacked Publius Scipio first. Given that Castulo is 29

Strab. 3.1.6. With the loss of Book 34, dealing with geography, we are left without the specifics of the ethnic composition of Polybius’ Iberia. On these issues, see the studies compiled in Santos, Torregaray 2003.

Historians vs. Geographers

23

located further north, along the Guadalquivir Valley, than Osuna, it is difficult to place the operational base of the Carthaginians in the lower valley of the same river. Subsequently, Turdetania should be sought for outside the valley, to the west or north-​west of the positions occupied by the Romans. The choronym appears again in 151–​150 bce, when Lucullus, governor of Citerior, wintered in Turdetania, after a campaign against the Vaccei in the Durius Valley, while his colleague from Ulterior did so among the Cunei, in south-​west Iberia (Hisp. 55, 59). These references are not sufficient to propose a precise location. Shortly after, in 148–​147 bce, Viriathus and the Lusitanians invaded Turdetania, where they attacked the Romans (Hisp. 61). Useful geographical clues may be extracted from the places mentioned by Appian in relation to this attack. The Romans were defeated by Viriathus near Tribola,30 taking refuge in a city called Karpêssos, a name clearly linked with Karpêtania, which Viriathus attacked next. This Karpêtania is the Carpetania of the Roman authors, a region populated by Celts of central Hispania, bordering with Celtiberia, whose name derives from the root carp-​ or carb-​.31 Playing around with the same suffixes as Appian, Polybius first calls the Carpetanians Karpêsioi, in a book based on Greek sources (3.14.2), and later Karpêtanoi in a passage based on Roman sources (10.7.5). Lastly, the Romans taking refuge in Karpêssos ask for help from the Celtiberian Belloi and Titthoi, who, given the circumstances, could not be far away (Hisp. 63). The pictured scenario is very similar to Cato’s campaign in 195 bce: a place in the southern Meseta, on this occasion near Carpetania, and the intervention of the Celtiberians from a neighbouring territory. Nevertheless, Appian himself sets the stage for confusion among modern scholarship when, after mentioning Karpêssos, he suggests it was ‘a maritime town which I think was formerly called by the Greeks Tartêssos’. Appian warns us that this is a personal interpretation (egô nomizô): in fact, he is the only author to propose such a synonymy. It is probably a mistake, perhaps due to a confusion with the name Carteia, a maritime city near the Strait. In sum, despite his imprecision and incoherencies, Appian allows us to envision a Turdetania that was much more inland than Strabo’s, somewhere between Lusitania and Celtiberia. Lastly, let us recall an entry in the lexicon of Stephanus of Byzantium, who mentions –​unfortunately without naming his source –​a city called Broutobria, located ‘between the Baetis and the Turditanoi’, and meaning ‘city of Brutus’.32 30 31 32

There are no other references to this city in the ancient sources. The root is also found in the name of the city Contrebia Carbica, known for its coinage and located in Fosos de Bayona (Cuenca), near the frontier between Carpetania and Celtiberia (García Bellido and Blázquez 2001, 2:257). Billerbeck 2006, 380 ff.

24 Moret This Brutobriga33 has not been identified, although coins with this name have been found in Extremadura.34 It was probably a foundation of D. Junius Brutus Callaicus, who commanded in Hispania between 138–​136 bce. If the topographical indications provided by Stephanus are followed, considering that no place name is known in the Guadalquivir Basin with the Celtic suffix -​briga, not even in all of southern Andalusia, the only logical option is to search for Turdetania more to the north or to the west, outside the Guadalquivir Valley, between the south-​west Meseta and Extremadura. This position is compatible with what is known of the Turdetania of Polybius,35 and in any case, it is diametrically opposed to the Turdetania known through Strabo, which makes the Baetis its central axis. 2

The Turdetanias of the Geographers

The leading role Strabo awarded Turdetania is well known. It encompassed geographical, economic, cultural and ethnic elements.36 The motives behind creating the fiction of such an ideal country remain unclear. According to Strabo, Turdetania was heir to the mythical kingdom of Tartessus, incomparable in terms of its refined civilization and natural resources. Why and how did such a great gap appear between the Turdetania of Cato, Livy and Appian, as has been described above, and the one presented by Strabo? In a recent paper,37 Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti focuses on Strabo’s contradictions concerning the limits of Turdetania. After explaining that the territory coincided with the Baetis Basin (3.1.6), Strabo describes various places which are not found in this precise geographical location; some of them did not even belong to the Roman province of Baetica, such as the communities ‘beyond the Anas’ (3.2.1). In fact, c­ hapters 1 and 2 of Book 3 contain evidence which demonstrates that Strabo, when establishing the limits of Turdetania, wavered between two different geographical representations without clearly deciding which to follow. 33 34 35 36 37

It is generally agreed that -​bria is a corrupted form of the Celtic suffix -​briga, well attested in other compound names of the same type (Augustobriga, Caesarobriga). García Bellido and Blázquez 2001, 2: 69. Bouiron (2014, 392) attributes the origin of this passage to Polybius. However, the dates for the campaigns of Brutus in Hispania are difficult to match with the dates, in which the Histories of Polybius were written. See Cruz Andreotti 1993 and 2007 (with bibliography), for understanding the complexity of the Strabonian concept of Turdetania in all of its ramifications. Cruz Andreotti 2007, 257.

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25

The first definition is clear and precise: Turdetania is ‘the country through which the Baetis flows’ (3.1.6). The same criterion –​that of a geographical unit structured by a river –​is repeated in 3.2.1 when Strabo says ‘it is above the coast this side of the Anas that Turdetania lies, and through it flows the Baetis River’.38 Turdetania is defined here as a region located inland, a mesogaia.39 However, contradictions soon appear. In the following sentence, Turdetania is said to reach the sea, between Gades and the Anas. In the line after that, Strabo suggests that the Bastetani, who occupy the coast between Calpe and Gades ‘also belong to Turdetania, and so do those Bastetani beyond the Anas’. With this possible extension, Strabo stealthily introduces a second definition, that of an expanded Turdetania, which would include the coast between Cádiz and the Strait, as well as part of the Anas Basin. Although Strabo does not seem very comfortable with this expanded concept, it predominates de facto in the descriptions of c­ hapter 2, when speaking, for example, of the natural riches of the Turdetanian coastlines, which extend to the Pillars (3.2.7). In sum: Strabo doubted between a Turdetania, stricto sensu, limited to the interior of the Baetis Valley and a heterogeneous Turdetania, lato sensu, which included most of the south-​western quadrant of Iberia, its civilization and natural riches being the only common denominators (Figure 2.2). This hesitation could have resulted from Strabo’s sources and their divergences. Unfortunately, barely any of the descriptions of Artemidorus or Posidonius have been preserved, the most commonly used authors in Book 3. As for Artemidorus, we only know40 that his Geography contained the variants Tourtutania (for the choronym), Tourtoi and Tourtutanoi (for the ethnonym),41 hence confirming the spelling used by Cato (Turta) over Livy’s Turda, as well as providing a curious version of the ethnonym, with a zero-​grade suffix: Tourtoi. His testimony appears, therefore, somewhat archaic, at least in comparison with Strabo’s version. On the other hand, absolutely nothing is known of Posidonius’ Turdetania. It seems improbable that he did not mention the Turdetani in his work, and many scholars consider Posidonius the main source for Strabo’s chapters on Turdetania, although there is not the slightest bit evidence to support such a claim.

38 39 40 41

In two other occasions (3.2.7 and 3.2.15), Strabo relates Turdetania with the river, but not in such an exclusive or specific manner. This word appears further ahead in 3.2.7, associated to Turdetania. The recently published fragments (Gallazzi et al. 2008) of the description of the Iberian coastline do not contain these names. Steph. Byz., s.v. Tourdêtania (cf. Faust 1966, 23).

26 Moret Besides the Turdetani, Strabo also speaks of the Turduli in three occasions. First, he states ‘at the present there is no distinction to be seen’ among the Turduli and the Turdetani, despite the differences in opinion existing between his predecessors on this subject (3.1.6). The other two references are more specific. While evoking the name given by ancient authors to the city located in the middle of the Baetis river mouth, he mentions that the surrounding region, which was previously known as Tartesis, was inhabited at his time by the Turduli (3.2.11); and while speaking of the Roman foundations in Hispania, he mentions that Augusta Emerita was founded among the Turduli (3.2.15). Hence, after negating their existence, Strabo, somewhat timidly, decides to maintain the differentiation with the Turduli. More specifically, he divides them into two groups located on the limits of Turdetania, one on the southern Atlantic coast, and the other in the Anas Basin; while reserving the ethnonym Turdetani for the inhabitants of central Baetica, and particularly for ‘those that live about the Baetis’ (3.2.15). This division of the Turduli into two opposing areas of Turdetania’s periphery coincides with Pliny’s version, which locates a group of Turduli on the coast, neighbours to the Bastuli, and another between the Baetis and the Anas.42 This cannot be a coincidence. The expansion suggested by Strabo imposes the notion of a Turdetania which derives directly from the decision to equate the Turduli to the Turdetani. However, his description preserves many elements belonging to a more restricted vision: that of a Turdetania located further inland, with groups of Turduli around its periphery. The source for this more limited concept is unknown: Polybius, Posidonius or Artemidorus. It originates no doubt from the Late Hellenistic geographical tradition, which is mainly represented in Strabo’s sources by these three authors. Strabo’s concept of the choronym Turdetania does not seem to have earned many followers; he was completely out of phase with the uses of the Roman administration in the Augustan and Julio-​Claudian periods. Pliny the Elder, in his Book 3, describes Baetica with radically different choronymic references (Figure 2.3). The names Turdetani and Turdetania are completely absent from Pliny’s description and the Turduli he mentions are confined to the periphery of Baetica: the Atlantic coast east of the Anas (nh 3.8); the limits of Lusitania in Baeturia, between the Baetis and Anas43 (nh 3.13); without forgetting the 42

43

On the question of the two Turduli groups (or three if the Duoro Turduli veteres are considered), see Untermann 2004, who defends the idea of a ‘chance homophony’ between two completely different groups: a Celtic community, spread between the Anas and the Duoro, and another of Tartessian origin, on the southern coast. These Turduli are probably the same as in Polybius and in the source of Stephanus Byzantius for the place name Brutobria (see supra).

Historians vs. Geographers

27

Figure 2.3 Baetica and Turduli in Pliny’s Hispania. shape of hispania as in moret 2016a.

isolated branch of the Turduli veteres north of the Durius (nh 4.113). For Pliny, the central Baetis Valley was not ethnically defined; there was no other territorial framework than the Roman province of Baetica and its conventus.44 The same ethnic division is found in Pomponius Mela, who mentions two groups of Turduli –​the Turduli of coastal Baetica (3.3) and the Turduli veteres of the Duoro (3.8) –​but ignores Turdetania. Turdetania appears again in the second century in Ptolemy’s map, occupying a very large area  –​wider than in any other author  –​which extended over a great part of Baetica and Lusitania: most of the coast between the Guadalquivir and the Sado rivers; towards the interior, the regions ‘which border Lusitania’ (2.4.10), in the current Extremadura; and the lands ‘around the Sacred Promontory’ (2.5.4) in the Baixo Alentejo (Figure 2.4). It appears to be the 44

Beltrán Lloris 2007, 129–​35.

28 Moret

Figure 2.4 Turdetania in Ptolemy’s Iberia. shape of iberia after stückelberger and grasshoff 2006.

sum of Strabo’s Turdetania, sensu lato, Pliny’s Baeturia Turdula, and the region of the Sacred Promontory (current Algarve), which no other author attributes to the Turdetani. Since Ptolemy’s sources are unknown,45 it is impossible to clarify the genesis of this ethnic-​geographic monster. The only certainty is that in Ptolemy’s artificial compilation, various Turdetanias may be identified, heirs of different geographical traditions, reflecting different historical moments. 3

How Did the Inhabitants of Baetica Call Themselves?

In the light of so many contradictions, it is important to consider the name used by the Hispani living in Baetica during the times of Strabo and Pliny, between the end of the first century bce and the mid-​first century ce. The answer is partially found in a recent study, which has revealed that Tartessus was a normal and common form among the Latin speakers and writers of Hispania 45

Or that of his main source, Marinus of Tyre.

Historians vs. Geographers

29

to refer to Cádiz and its environs, while ‘Tartessic’ or ‘Tartessian’ was used to describe people and agricultural produce from this region.46 This name was not used throughout Baetica, and it is possible that it was reserved for a learned elite. In any case, it remained in use in Strabo’s time in a part of the territory, which this author called Turdetanian. Epigraphy is another source for addressing the question on the self-​ denomination of the inhabitants of Baetica.47 Early imperial funerary inscriptions sometimes mention an ethnic name in the onomastic formula. Turdetanus/​Turdetana is not found among these, although well-​known ethnonyms in Hispania include: Bastetanus, Lusitanus, Celtiber, among others. On the other hand, there are six inscriptions mentioning Baeticus/​Baetica48 and three Turdulus/​Turdula. The geographical distribution of these last inscriptions is particularly interesting. One was found in Caurium (Coria, Cáceres),49 the other two in Emerita,50 which is not surprising, since Strabo (3.2.15) placed Augusta Emerita in the territory of the Turduli, and according to Pliny, the Baeturia of the Turduli bordered on the south with the city of Mérida (hn 3.13). The Turduli identity found in these three authors is completely disconnected from Strabo’s Baetica-​Turdetanian conglomerate; it refers, rather, to a Turduli group of Celtic origin, unrelated to the world of the lower Guadalquivir.51 4 Conclusion When considering the entire history of the development of the name, Strabo appears to be an exception. Among the preserved sources, he is the only one to present Turdetania as a synonym or quasi-​synonym for Baetica. Another singularity found in Strabo is his decision to unite Turdetani and Turduli as one entity. On the other hand, there are several points in common among the other authors. Cato, Ptolemy, Polybius, Appian and Mela all consider the Turdetani to be neighbours or kin of the Celtic communities of Hispania (Celtiberians or Celtici), who are located to the north and west of the Baetis Valley. Despite their assumed progressive displacement towards the south-​west of Hispania,

46 47 48 49 50 51

Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2007. On this issue, see Le Roux 2007, 200. Abascal Palazón 1994, 297. Hispania Epigraphica 8, 1998, no. 76. Cil ii, 523; Hispania Epigraphica 8, 1998, no. 28. Untermann 2004, 206, bases his claim on the Celtic elements found in the onomastic formula of the two Turdulus from Mérida.

30 Moret Table 2.1 Use of the names Tartessus, Turdetani and Turduli in Greek and Latin authors, between the Second Punic War and the Flavian period. The asterisk marks authors born in Iberia or who visited the Peninsula.

Tartessus (past reality)

Tartessus (contemporary reality)

Turdetani/​Turduli

Cato* Livy

–​ –​

–​ Tartesii

Diodorus Siculus Appian Polybius*

–​ Tartêssos ?

Tartêssioi –​ ?

Artemidorus* Posidonius* Strabo

? ? Tartêssos

? ? –​

Ptolemy

–​

–​

Varro* Cicero Pliny* Pomponius Mela* Columella* Martial*

–​ –​ –​ –​ –​ –​

murena Tartesia Tartessicus (Balbus) Tartesus Tartesus Tartesus, Tartesis Tartesius

Turta, Turdetania Turdetani, Turdetania –​ Turditania Tourdouloi, Tourdêtanoi Tourtoi, Tourtutanoi ? Tourdouloi, Tourdêtanoi Tourdouloi, Tourdêtanoi Turduli –​ Turduli Turduli –​ –​

they never settled Baetica, stricto sensu (or, in the case of Ptolemy, not entirely). Furthermore, as of Polybius, there exists a clear separation between Turduli and Turdetani. Associations become clearer when considering in parallel the history of two names: Tartessus and Turdetania (Table 2.1). Three groups of authors are differentiated. The historians of the Second Punic War and the initial phases of conquest comprise the most complex group, due to the diversity of their sources (pro-​Roman or pro-​Punic, in Latin or in Greek) and to the formative state of Iberia’s choronyms at the time. It is surprising that authors, such as Livy or Diodorus, use Tartesii or Tartêssioi as a contemporary ethnonym, ascribing

Historians vs. Geographers

31

Figure 2.5 Parallel evolution of names Tartessus and Turdetania names. by pierre moret.

the name to a real community involved in the confrontations of the Second Punic War. Greek geographers (and historians who dedicated large sections of their work to geographical descriptions) make up the second group. They consistently mention a community called Tourdêtanoi or Tourtutanoi, although never the choronym Tartêssos in reference to a present geographical reality in Iberia. Finally, the third group is made up of the Latin authors, who best knew Hispania. For them, Tartessus always corresponds to a contemporary reality, not to a mythical past and they never speak of Turdetani. Figure 2.5 organizes the same data, distinguishing three main phases for the evolution of an ethnonym in any context of conquest or domination of a territory by a foreign power. The initial phase, not documented here, belongs to the pre-​existing indigenous ethnonym. The second phase adapts the name to the phonology, morphology and semantics of the conquering language, an adaptation, which is accompanied by a process of exogenous ethnographic construction (of literary or political motivation). In the last phase, the transformed name is reappropriated by an acculturated indigenous elite, which may or may not be heir to the primitive users of the name. This phase exists for the name Turduli, but not for Turdetani and Turdetania. In fact, Turdetania, as a choronym and an ethnonym, fell into disuse as of the early first century bce, both among the population of southern Iberia and the Roman administrators of the province, and only survived as part of a relatively marginal, and perhaps anachronic, geographical tradition, only

32 Moret detected in foreign authors who wrote in Greek, such as Artemidorus or Strabo, and as a final echo, divorced from all contemporary reality, in Ptolemy. During the same period, and well into the first century ce, the Latin sources, following the uses of Gaditanian learned elites, called this region Baetica or Tarte(s)sus, and its inhabitants Baetici or Tarte(s)sii, never Turdetania and Turdetani. In sum, through the analysis of the texts of Livy and Cato, it is possible to affirm that the community called Turdetani by the Romans at the beginning of the conquest of Iberia was situated in or near the southern Meseta. During the second half of the second century bce, it was displaced to the south-​west by authors such as Polybius and the sources of Appian, although it is not possible to assert that these Turdetani were the same ones as Cato’s. The place assigned to Turdetania in Strabo’s geographical construction radically differs from the locations described by other historians, as well as from the use the name was given by the Roman administration, as reflected in Pliny, who only mentions Baetica and its conventus, and finally, also from the contemporary practice of the locals, who identified themselves as Baetici or Turduli, yet never as Turdetani. Nevertheless, modern scholarship adopted without critique Strabo’s point of view. The first consequence of this choice was the consolidation and almost universal assumption of an old etymological speculation,52 which defends a close kinship between the names Turdetani, Thersitai, Tartessos and Tarshish.53 From a strictly morphological point of view, the inclusion of Turdetani in this series poses problems. In order to justify a relationship with Tarshish and Tartês-​(os), scholars have wanted to see the root Turdet-​followed by a Latin desinence -​anus,54 whereas the only acceptable way to analyse the name, from the Latin context of its suffix, is Turd(a) + -​etani /​-​etania.55 This linguistic hypothesis has led many authors to defend the existence of a direct ethnic affiliation between Tartessians and Turdetanians.56 Another, more recent, consequence is the choice of the adjective Turdetanian to designate, from an 52 53 54 55 56

Movers 1850, 603–​4 and 612; other references in Koch 1984 (=2003). This is the central thesis of Koch 1984, followed by García Moreno 1989 and Lipinski 2004. Movers 1850, 612; Lenormant 1868, 2: 292; Lipinski 2004, 251: ‘the alternative forms Tartes(sus) and Turdet(ani) reflect various perceptions and adaptations of the native Iberian pronunciation’. Faust 1966, 21–​22. Among other arguments, Faust notes that the word game introduced by Plautus in the Captivi (Turdetani /​turdus) could only work if the Roman public of the 190s understood –​etani as a suffix. For the current state of affairs, with bibliography, García Fernández 2003.

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33

archaeological point of view, everything belonging to the Late Iron Age in lower Andalusia.57 Such a scenario becomes problematic and blurred once the geographical relationship of the Turdetanians with the lower Guadalquivir and their genetic link to the Tartessians is broken, exposed as an artificial construction of Late Hellenistic geography, without any real basis in the society or territorial organization of Republican and Early Imperial Hispania. 57

From different points of view, and among many other possible references: Escacena 1989, Ruiz Mata 1998, Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2002.

Chapter 3

The City as a Structural Element in Turdetanian Identity in the Work of Strabo Encarnación Castro-​Páez It might at first seem obvious to speak of the city as a structural element in Turdetanian identity within the work of Strabo.* However, a closer look at the topic reveals a multifaceted phenomenon that is far from easy to explain. Strabo is a complex author. Having already written a historical work,1 he felt the need to be linked somehow to the previous tradition in order to be considered a geographer.2 Hence, in his Prolegomena, he lays out a whole theoretical framework on the purpose of geography as a discipline: its nature, finality, aims and target audience. Similarly, he also discusses and critiques a genealogy of authors,3 among them Homer, Eratosthenes, Polybius and Posidonius, who were mainly interested in other fields, yet are grouped by Strabo under the common heading of ‘philosophers’ (Strab. 1.1.1). In doing so, he attempts to set the basis for a * orcid: orcid.org/​0000-​0003-​4528-​0870. This paper forms part of three research projects: ‘Ethnic Identities in Southern Spain: Rise and Evolution in Antiquity (7th-2nd centuries BCE)’ (hum 03482), funded by the Council for Innovation, Science and Enterprise of the regional government of Andalusia; ‘Ethnic and Political-​Civic Identity in Roman Spain: The Case of the Turdetania-​Baetica’ (HAR2012–​32588), and ‘Ancient Geography and Historiography: Space Representation and Transmission of Knowledge’ (HAR2016–​76098-​C2–​1-​P), funded by the Ministry of Economics and Competitiveness of Spain. All translations from Book 3 in this paper are the author’s, based on the Greek text established by Radt (2002). 1 The Historikà hypomnémata were composed by 47 books, which have reached us in an extremely fragmented state. The well-​known edition of the FGrHist, iia has been recently revised and updated by D.W. Roller (2008) in a work, which presents the two testimonia and the 19 preserved Greek fragments, their respective English translations and a brief commentary on each. For a historiographical analysis, see Ridgeway 1888, 84; Pédech 1972, 395–​408; Lasserre 1982, 867–​96; Prandi 1988, 50–​60; Ambaglio 1990, 377–​425; Malinowski 2017, 337–​352. 2 Prontera 1984, 189–​256. 3 The complete list presented by Strabo in the opening paragraph of Geography is composed by the following authors: Homer, Anaximander, Hecataeus, Democritus, Eudoxus, Dicearchus, Ephorus, Eratosthenes, Polybius and Posidonius; these are followed, a few lines ahead, by Hipparchus (Strab. 1.1.2).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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literary genre that unites history on one side, and physical, mathematical and astronomical sciences on the other.4 Strabo thus demonstrates that he knows and respects his predecessors, while defining through his commentaries his own concept of geography, which he defines as a philosophy  –​an interdisciplinary field of knowledge of use to the educated and men of government (Strab. 1.1.1; 21). The seventeen books of his Geography are unique in the Graeco-​Roman literary tradition.5 Together they constitute a complex geographical project, full of nuances which, when viewed from a holistic perspective –​as recommended by the author6 –​enclose the key to ancient geographical thought. Strabo innovates by capturing a latent idea in geographical tradition since Hecataeus:7 geographical space only acquires its nature when described as a historical landscape,8 which results from human action –​that is, political action over a determined territory. There are various direct consequences to be extracted from this statement, some of which are fundamental for understanding Strabo. Firstly, landscape is geographical, since it is created through collective action. Geography is therefore viewed in a new way, as a discourse in which the historical dimension of space becomes essential.9 On the other hand, the geohistorical focus Strabo imposes on his narrative conditions the sources he uses and forces the author to apply his own intellect to give the sources a new meaning and adapt them to his new perspective. Lastly, the weight of the historical dimension in the narration does not allow for Strabo to be read or interpreted as a fixed image of several contemporary realities, but as a description resulting from an

4 Prontera 1983, xvii. 5 The structure of Geography is well known. It is divided in two, clearly differentiated parts. The two first books, also known as the Prolegomena, include: an ideological and theoretical reflection on the purpose of geography as a discipline; an inflamed defence of Homer’s authority; and a critique of a carefully selected set of authors, represented mainly by Eratosthenes. A chorography follows, describing the oecumene in a clockwise direction. Book 3 is dedicated to Iberia; Book 4 to Gaul, Britannia and Cisalpine Gaul; Books 5 and 6 to Italy; Book 7 to Central Europe, Epirus, Macedonia and Thrace; Books 8–​10 to Greece and the Greek islands; Books 11–​14 to Asia Minor; Book 15 to India and Parthia; Book 16 to the Near East; and Book 17 closes with Egypt, Ethiopia and north Africa. 6 Let us remember that Strabo insists on defining his historical and geographical production as a kolossourgia, a colossal work based on the principle of functionality, but also on the need to compile what is worthy of memory, defending a holistic vision over scrupulous description (Strab. 1.1.23). 7 Van Paassen 1957, 61–​4, 70; Pédech 1976, 46–​8. 8 Prontera 1988, 201–​22. 9 Cruz Andreotti 20152a, 59–​68.

36 Castro-Páez accumulative process. From this perspective, cartography is viewed as an instrument which provides a spatial frame for historical processes; however, this instrument must be managed with extreme precaution due to the diachronic nature of determined information, which may present terms, such as ‘limit’ or ‘frontier’, in ways that cannot be perceived by us in the same way.10 Book 3 of the Geography is the beginning of a chorographic description of the oecumene,11 constituting a paradigmatic example of everything discussed above. When attempting to gauge the reality of Iberia’s geography and its reflection on a map in the time of Augustus, the reader is left with the impression of a work full of inconsistencies, caused by the compiler’s neglecting to select and compare sources which provide overlapping and often contradictory information.12 On the other hand, if a processual approach is applied to Strabo’s Geography, these perceived inconsistencies actually become different stages in a historical process under construction.13 There are at least two different, yet complementary, narrative planes inside the structural framework of the Book. The first and most evident is the descriptive discourse, which follows the general principles of the geographic and cartographic tradition. Geographical data are generally presented from west to east and from the coast to the interior, using mountain ranges and main rivers as the dividers of the great regions in Iberia: Turdetania, Lusitania, the coastline from Calp to the foothills of the Pyrenees, and lastly, the islands.14 Each of these areas is introduced by a report on the characteristics of the territory: climate, terrain, navigability of the rivers, habitation conditions, communications and resources available for exploitation (Strab. 3.1.6; 3.2.3–​8; 3.3.1; 3.3.3–​5; 3.3.8; 3.4.8, 11 and 16; 3.4.12–​13; 3.4.15). At this point, Strabo establishes a clear core–​periphery division between the south and the north of the Peninsula. Turdetania is presented almost as an idyllic territory, at the height of prosperity, thanks to all kinds of natural riches and a favourable environment for its exploitation, due to its benign weather and the ease of communication. The Mediterranean coast is also described in favourable terms, although with much less detail and information. It is presented as a fertile land of habitable valleys, as well as the Balearic Islands, which were freed of piracy by the providential intervention of Rome. In contrast, there is Lusitania, crossed by large, navigable rivers with fertile territories, which are nonetheless under-​developed due 10 11 12 13 14

In general: Prontera 1988, 201–​22; Cruz Andreotti and Ciprés Torres 2011, 199–​213. Lowe 2017, 69–​78. The sources used by Strabo in Book 3 were analysed in a monographic study by Morr 1926. Cruz Andreotti 2009a, 131–​44; 2014, 143–​52. Counillon 2007, 65–​80.

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to isolation; and finally the arid, isolated and mountainous Celtiberia, which is only inhabited by wild animals. All these data are connected to the capacity and predisposition of the communities of each of these regions to exploit their natural environment in a beneficial manner. Through a subtle and very toned-​down subordination of the human character of each region to climatic and geographical determinism,15 Strabo exposes a second narrative plane, the rhetorical discourse. It is as a descriptive framework enclosing a conceptual outline, which gradually descends from civilization to barbarism, organized around temporal guidelines divided between the ‘present’ and the ‘past’16 and dominated by the dialectic between village and city.17 Hence, in the geographic description and rhetoric weaved by Strabo, Celtiberia and Turdetania are presented as two opposed models. Strabo describes a Celtiberia18 scored by great rivers, such as the Baetis, Anas, Tagus, or the Durius, and mentions a mountain range in the Orospeda region, extending from the area of the Strait of Gibraltar to the mid-​Mediterranean coast (Strab. 3.4.10). He superimposes, over this physical framework, an ethnic frontier, which began in the north-​eastern corner of Iberia and spread counter-​clockwise, to include: in the Cantabrian region, the Veronians, Cantabrian Coniscans, Asturians and Callaicans; in the west, the Vaccaeans, Vetonians and Carpetanians; and in the south, the Oretanians and the Bastetanians and Edetanians living in Orospeda (Strab. 3.4.1; 3.4.12). Once the limits are established, Strabo is unable to specify if the Celtiberians were divided into four or five parts (Strab. 3.4.13; 3.4.19).19 Such a lack of definition seems to be the result of the historical development of the region,20 the phases of which are narrated by the geographer himself (Strab. 3.4.19). ‘Celtiberia’ first appears in the writings of Polybius, and as Strabo reminds us, for over twenty years these communities valiantly confronted Rome (Strab. 3.4.13) and ‘as a result of their growth in power, the Celtiberians caused the whole neighbouring country to have the same name as their own’ (Strab. 3.2.11). The term ‘Celtiberians’ may therefore be considered an aggregate ethnonym, created by the need to confront the Roman invasion with a joint and cohesive resistance. The second 15 16 17 18 19 20

Montero Barrientos 1995–​96, 311–​30. Clavel-​Lévêque 1974, 75–​93; Thompson 1979, 213–​30; Thollard 1987. García Quintela 20152a, 75–​124. Both ‘Celtiberia’ and ‘Celtiberians’ are exogenous terms, which may be traced back to the Roman historian Fabius Pictor: Pelegrín Campo 2003, 235–​67; 2005, 115–​36. There are two hypotheses for the interpretation of this text. The first is literary and the second is approached from a cultural-​historical perspective, in Capalvo Liesa 1995, 455–​ 70; García Quintela 1999, 147–​57. Ciprés Torres 2006, 177–​97.

38 Castro-Páez phase is extracted from Posidonius and his critique of Polybius’ account of the number of cities existing in Celtiberia. The intervention of Posidonius allows Strabo to introduce his own discourse regarding the territory under discussion. Strabo offers two lines of argument: an ethnographic approach and a political-​ administrative one.21 In the former, Strabo reminds us once more of the graces of ‘Our Sea’s’ coastline, in contrast to the harshness of the seaboard, which faces Ocean. This determinism, however, is relative, since the exploitation of the land, in Strabo, depends on the predisposition of its inhabitants. From this point onwards, our geographer begins to describe the customs which are the most striking to his eyes (Strab. 3.4.16–​18). Above all, he highlights the wild character of the people and their incapacity to develop a polis-​centred way of life (Strab. 3.4.13). Nevertheless, all this belonged to the past, as did the political-​administrative conception of the ‘great, ethnic Celtiberia’ and its surrounding peoples. The permanent occupation of Rome gave way to a territory under the direct control of the emperor, through the administration of a consul. The territory was divided, de facto, in three parts: the Callaican-​Cantabrian coast, which housed two legions and their legate; the so-​called inland territories, populated by Celtiberians, who ‘have adopted the refined manners and ways of life of the Italians’; and lastly, the Iber-​coastline corridor, where the governor kept his two wintering sites, at Tarraco and New Carthage (Strab. 3.4.19–​20). On the other hand, Strabo, being Greek, recognizes in Turdetania cultural and identity models comparable to his own, which were not given or imposed by Rome, but inherited from a previous trajectory.22 Hence, the Turdetanians are described as ‘the wisest of the Iberians’ (Strab. 3.1.6) and the geographer points out, in surprise and admiration, how they have reached an intellectual state capable of producing literature, both in verse and prose, of immemorial tradition (Strab. 3.1.6).23 The differentiating element in Strabo’s Turdetania, in contrast to the other regions of Iberia, is the memory of their long history, in which the city plays a central role.24 The term ‘Turdetanian’ is, just like the term ‘Celtiberian’, a functional and unifying ethnonym, which works as an aggregate,25 covering diverse communities with no evident spatial divisions.26 21 22 23 24 25 26

Ciprés Torres 1993, 259–​91; Capalvo Liesa 1996, 47–​61; Pelegrín Campo 2003, 95–​121; 2007, 277–​96; Beltrán Lloris 2004a, 88–​145; Burillo Mozota 2005, 61–​72; 2007, passim. Cruz Andreotti in this same volume. Almagro-​Gorbea 2005, 39–​80; Castro Páez and Cruz Andreotti 2017, 258–​271. García Vargas, Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2008, 247–​70. García Fernández 2004, 76–​7; Cruz Andreotti 2007, 259. Ferrer Albelda and Prados Pérez 2001–​2, 273–​82; Moret 2011, 235–​48; Moret in this same volume.

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Differing elements and realities, which ranged between native continuity and gradually introduced innovations, coexisted in complex, urban frameworks.27 In the edition of Book 3 published by Stephan Radt,28 79 cities are mentioned,29 of which 28 may be ascribed to this southern region.30 However, Strabo is not interested in the number of towns populating the Peninsula –​in fact, he maintains the number 200, which some sources quote for Turdetania (Strab. 3.2.1). Therefore, any approach to the rise of urbanism, whether applied to Strabo’s Iberia in general, or more specifically to Turdetania, must transcend the conclusions derived from the numeric data available. Even if only briefly, it is necessary to reflect on the concept of urbanism presented in Book 3 and the criteria used by Strabo to define a ‘city’ in his description. Though an exhaustive study is still lacking on the terminology used by the Greek geographer for this subject, it does not appear, at a first glance, that the language used bore any particular significance. It is constrained, in general, to the term πόλις

27 28 29

30

Bendala Galán 2005, 25–​6. Radt 2002. The total number of cities cited in Book 3 may vary according to the edition. For example, Jones (1923) in the Loeb Classical Collection Library and Lasserre (1966) for Les Belles Lettres, include Salacia and Olysipo as Lusitanian cities (3.3.1). On the other hand, Radt (2002), in the same paragraph possibly referring to Salacia, simply points out the textual restitutions proposed by different authors, without incorporating any place-​name of his own. Radt does the same with Olysipo, marking the lines, where scholars have interpreted the name of this city as a locus conclamatus. The most recent, complete English translation of the Geography, by Roller (2014), accepts the term Olysipo without question, ignoring the textual difficulties identified by Radt; Roller does not mention Salacia. The distribution proposal presented here is exposed in Table 3.1. The column ‘islands’ only refers to data on the Balearic Islands; although Gades largely occupies the final paragraphs of Book 3, following formal and geographical criteria used by Greek geography, it is classified under ‘Turdetania’, following a structural point of view. On the other hand, Cotinae should be added to the 78 listed cities; it is mentioned in 3.2.3 and was possibly linked to the area of Sierra Morena, and therefore to the neighbouring territories of Turdetania/​Oretania. It is difficult, if not completely impossible, to assign precise geographical limits to territories which are defined on the basis of dynamic ethnic groups; they changed denomination, spatial extension and location depending on the historical-​cultural tract used by Strabo or his sources at each moment. Hence, quantitative data must be considered with caution, and should not be used for any analysis on their own. On the place-​names/​ ethnonyms subdividing and organizing the list of cities in Table  3.1 and the territories occupied by each one at different historical stages: Cruz Andreotti 20152b, 519–​24; 20152c, 351–​54; 20152d, 471–​72; 20152e, 482–​83; 20152f, 418; 20152g, 396–​97; García Quintela 20152b, 524–​25; 20152c, 380–​86; 20152d, 472; 20152e, 527; 20152f, 528; 20152g, 345–​46; 20152h, 364–​ 66; 20152i, 366–​67; 20152j, 354–​55; García Quintela and Cruz Andreotti 20152a, 436–​37; 20152b, 441–​45.

40 Castro-Páez and its derivatives, the word κτίσμα, and the verb οἰκίζω and its compounds.31 Secondly, he is not even interested, as would be expected from a work of the same nature, in the physical, geographical or urban characteristics of the cities; many are simply mentioned with no additional data.32 He only includes the details we would consider, from a modern perspective, as pertaining to human geography, such as data which could define cities as territorial centres, from an economic point of view, and always in relation to Rome. Bearing this in mind, when reviewing the list of cities mentioned and the information provided by the geographer of Amasya on each one of them, it becomes apparent that the principal criterion for the author’s selection of data is historical. It may be argued that the narrative surrounding urbanism in Book 3 is supported by a diachronic diegesis and a clearly axiological principal of selection. What Strabo really wants to draw attention to is the role played by the city in a historical process, which is recognized as such by a Greek reader. Cities are presented to the reader, so Patrick Counillon rightly defines,33 as following models of epenetic oratory, which he uses, once again, to create core–​periphery relationships between areas at two levels: inside one region, dedicating particular attention to determined urban centres; and between different regions, showing how urbanism gradually disperses into village life as the distance from southern Iberia increases. In this way, although all the cities founded along the banks of the Baetis were powerful póleis (Strab. 3.2.5), the author presents some as particularly prestigious and exemplary, and does not only base his comments on geographical criteria. In Strabo’s own words, ‘those to have increased most in fame and power are Corduba (founded by Marcellus) and the city of the Gaditanians’ (Strab. 3.2.1). In the first, ‘there inhabited from the beginning chosen individuals by the Romans and the natives’ (Strab. 3.2.1), so the foundation by Marcellus was the culmination of a long process of coexistence, which is also detected in ancillary centres, such as Hispalis or Baetis. Gades is an even more paradigmatic case. Founded by the Tyrians, its geopolitical influence in the region is confirmed by the alliance signed with Rome (Strab. 3.1.8 and 2.1), its census of five-​hundred

31

32 33

As for the specific vocabulary to be found in Strabo, Pédech (1971) partially broached the subject, taking an interest in the semantic field concerning urbanism in the Geography. However, the nominal and verbal terminology used in Book 3 when describing and defining the city still remains to be studied; such a project could lead to interesting conclusions (contra in regard to verbs Lévêque 1974, 472–​474). Castro Páez 2004, 169–​99. Counillon 2007, 76.

Abdera Cartalias Cherronesus Dertossa Egelasta Emporium Exitanians (city of) Hemeroscopeium Maenaca Malaca New Carthage Odysseia Oleastrum Rhodus Saguntum Setabis Sucro Tarraco Veteres(?)

Augusta Emerita (Turdulians; Lusitanians) Moron (?)

Aegua Asta Astigis Ategua Baetis Belon (Bastetanians?) Calpe=Heracleia (Bastetanians=Bastulians) Carmo Carteia (Bastetanians?) Corduba Ebura Gades Hispalis Ilipa Italica Iulia Ioza (Bastetanians?) Maenoba Menlaria (Bastetanians?) Munda Nabrissa Obulco Onoba Ossonoba Port of Menestheus Tartessus (Turdulians) Tuccis Ulia Urso Veronians: 1 Varia

Ilergetans: 2 Ilerda Osca Vasconians: 3 Calagurris Oeaso Pompelo

Bilbilis Caesar-Augusta Celsa Numantia (Arvacans) Pallantia (Arvacans)a Segeda (Arvacans)b Segobriga

Celtiberia: 7

a Strabo erroneously ascribes it to the Arvacans (3.4.13), when it was actually a Vaccaean city. b  Strabo erroneously ascribes it to the Arvacans (3.4.13), when it was actually a city of the Bellians, an ethnic group not mentioned by Strabo.

Asturians-Cantabrians: 2 Noega (Asturians-Cantabrians frontiers) Opsicella (Cantabrians)

Callaicans: 2 Amphilochi Hellenes

Vaccaeans: 4 Acutia Intercatia Segesama Serguntia

Oretanians: 3 Castalo Oria Sisapo

Celtici (south-west Iberia): 2 Conistorgis Pax Augusta

Mediterranean coast and its interior: 19

Lusitania: 2

Turdetania: 28

Table 3.1 Cities mentioned in Book 3 of Strabo’s Geography (after the edition by Radt 2002) (Vid. Fig. 3.1)

Pityussae: Ebusus Gymnesiae: Palma Polentia

Islands: 3

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42 Castro-Páez equites (Strab. 3.5.3), and by the central role played by the temple of the Gaditanian Hercules (Strab. 3.5.3–​9). In the time of Caesar, Balbus the Younger established an antipolis, creating a joint settlement known as Didyme (Strab. 3.5.3). Other cities, on the estuaries of the Baetis River mouth, fell under its sphere of influence (Strab. 3.2.2), such as Nabrissa or Asta –​chosen by the Gaditanians to celebrate their assemblies (Strab. 3.2.2) –​and mixed foundations dotting the coastline between the Strait and its archipelago (Strab. 3.5.4). Jointly with Corduba, the central node in the mid Baetis Valley, and Gades, a strategic point on the Strait, Strabo also singles out Munda, which he describes as the metropolis connecting other urban centres, such as Ategua, Urso or Tuccis, scenarios of the Civil War (Strab. 3.2.2). On the other side of the Strait, the main cities are New Carthage and ­Tarraco. The former is described as ‘the most powerful, by far, of the cities there’ (Strab. 3.4.6), and Strabo highlights its strategic location and its infrastructure. Tarraco, on the other hand, acts ‘as the metropolis, not only on this side of the Iber, but also in a large part of the other’ (Strab. 3.4.7). The pre-​eminence of both urban centres is evidenced when they become the wintering quarters for the Roman governor (Strab. 3.4.20). Other cities play a secondary role, as points of reference along the coast, such as Saguntum, founded by the Zacynthians, the destruction of which ignited the Second Punic War (Strab. 3.4.6); and Emporium, a dipolis, where, according to Strabo, its inhabitants ‘in time, arrived jointly to the same form of government, a mixture between Barbarian and Greek laws’ (Strab. 3.4.8). However, despite the significance of these cities, the urban phenomenon is restricted, according to the map drawn by Strabo, to the Mediterranean coast. There is hardly any mention of cities in the interior, which are placed on the map after conquest. From a geocartographic perspective, territorial vacuums in the Central Plateau and northern Iberia are explained by the lack of information available for the periphery of those times or by the importance of peripli for the structure of the description.34 From a historical-​ cultural point of view, these vacuums may be explained differently. The well-​known controversy between Polybius and Posidonius on the number of cities in Celtiberia (Strab. 3.4.13) and Rome’s attitude towards the tribes distributed between the Artabrians and the Tagus River (Strab. 3.3.5) hold the key to this question. Although the epenetic oratory is still in play when speaking of Celtiberia  –​Numantia is ‘its most renowned city’ (Strab. 3.4.13)  –​Strabo is

34

Cruz Andreotti 2007, 254, n. 10.

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Figure 3.1 Cities mentioned in Book 3 of the Geography. E. Castro, after the locations proposed in Cruz Andreotti, G., M.V. García Quintela, and F.J. Gómez Espelosín. 2015 2. Estrabón, Geografía de Iberia. Madrid: Alianza Editorial -​1 st ed. 2007.

adamant in affirming ‘the nature of the territory is not capable of holding many cities due to its extreme poverty, its remoteness and its wild character, neither are the ways of life or actions, excepting those on the coast of Our Sea, implying anything similar:  for those who inhabit villages are savages and such are most of the Iberians; not even the cities facilitate civilization when so many inhabit the forests bringing great harm to their neighbours’ (Strab. 3.4.13). As for the description of Lusitania, the geographer does not hide that ‘the Artabrians have many cities coexisting on the Gulf, known by the navigators who frequent these places as the Port of the Artabrians’ (Strab. 3.3.5). Interestingly, he does not mention the names of these cities, instead reporting on the hostility and warfare of the tribes populating the area, until the Romans ‘reduced to villages most of their cities’, re-​founding some of them with colonists (Strab. 3.3.5). Clearly, in Strabo’s eyes, the mere existence of cities did not guarantee a civilized life, for in certain areas of the Iberian Peninsula, people lacked any political sense, and it was only through Rome that the city acquired this role.

44 Castro-Páez A well-​known and cited paragraph, describing Turdetania, sums up everything exposed above (Strab. 3.2.15): For the Turdetanians civilization and citizenship were the consequences of the fertility of the territory; and also for the Celts in their vicinity –​ as Polybius has said, due to their kinship –​although to a lesser degree (because the majority live in villages). On the other hand, Turdetanians, particularly those who live along the Baetis, have converted completely to the Roman way of life and do not remember their own language. The majority are now Latins and have received Romans as colonists, so there is not much left for all to be Roman. There are cities where they are now made to live together: Pax Augusta of the Celts, Augusta Emerita of the Turduli and Caesar Augusta in the region of the Celtiberians, and many other colonial establishments manifest the change of such politeías.35 And indeed those Iberians that have that form are called togati (among these are also the Celtiberians who before were deemed the most savage of all). And these are the things on them (sc. Turdetanians). Despite the conceptual complexity of the passage and the controversies surrounding the different corrections proposed by diverse editions,36 the text sheds considerable light on the topic being dealt with. In the periphery, Rome imposes this ‘political capacity’ on the population, controlling urban development through the synokisménai póleis, forcing the coexistence (synoikízo)37 between Romans and natives. It is not by chance that

35

36 37

The original Greek word, politeía, is maintained here; due to the extraordinary complexity of the term, it is preferable to leave it as a transliteration. Bailly delimits two spheres for its possible translation. The first refers to the private citizen, and could be defined as: the quality and rights of a citizen or right to citizenship; the life of a citizen or the kind of life of a citizen; or more generally, citizens as a whole. The second sphere would comprise the political sense of the term: in the first instance it would refer to the life and administration of a man of government or to participation in public affairs; in the collective sense, it would refer to the measures taken by government or the constitution of a state, form of government or political regime (s. v. πολιτεία, 1587). Liddell-​Scott-​Jones presents three different meanings: firstly, the ‘condition and rights of a citizen, citizenship’; secondly, ‘government, administration’; and lastly, the ‘civil polity, constitution of a state’ (lsj Online http://​stephanus.tlg.uci.edu/​lsj/​#eid=87041&context=lsj&action=from-​ search). Canto 2001, 425–​76. The translation of the verb synoikizo, as mentioned supra, may change the meaning of this text. It could simply mean ‘to unite in one building’ or ‘make to live with’. However it could also mean to ‘combine or join in one city’ and as part of this same definition ‘a

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Strabo chooses to mention Pax Augusta, Augusta Emerita and Caesar Augusta as urban centres which acted as a base to orchestrate the consolidation of Rome’s expansion. In southern Iberia, the civilized and political character of its inhabitants was considered innate, although equally favoured by exceptional geographical conditions; therefore, their historical process was the desired one: ‘Turdetanians, particularly those who live along the Baetis, have converted completely to the Roman way of life and do not remember their own language’ (Strab. 3.2.15). From Strabo’s processual perspective, Turdetania appears as a territory where imperial policy was only the last link in a long transformation, which was completed, not without difficulties38 –​although these were skilfully concealed by the geographer. Ultimately, the process culminated successfully, for ‘the majority are now Latins and have received Romans as colonists, so there is not much left for all to be Roman’ (Strab. 3.2.15).

38

city having been regularly formed’, in contrast to kata kómas oikizethai, which means to live in separate villages. It can also be interpreted as ‘join in peopling’ or ‘colonizing a country’ and more generally even, as ‘unite’, ‘associate’ (Bailly s.v. συνοικίζω, 1864–​5; lsj Online http://​stephanus.tlg.uci.edu/​lsj/​#eid=103657&context=lsj&action=from-​search). A general analysis of ancient Greek colonization vocabulary, focusing on verbs ktizo and oikeo-​oikizo, was published, years ago, by Casevitz (1985). Cruz Andreotti 2011, 209–​25; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012a, 771–​805.

Chapter 4

Deconstructing ‘Turdetanian Culture’: Identities, Territories and Archaeology Francisco José García Fernández The scientific community has traditionally used the term ‘Turdetanians’ in reference to populations inhabiting the mid and lower Guadalquivir River and its surrounding regions during the Late Iron Age, coinciding grosso modo with the area defined by classical authors as ‘Turdetania’.* It is frequently assumed that a close relationship exists between the choronym and the ethnonym, in terms of geography and culture, as gauged from the palaeo-ethnological maps published to date1 (Figure 4.1), which often omit the presence of other groups, such as Punics, Celts, Lusitanians, etc. Some scholars have even included Turdetani as part of the Iberian communities, based on a literal reading of Strabo’s famed passage (3.1.6), describing the southern territories of Iberia for the first time.2 Graeco-​Roman literary sources carry an enormous weight within studies on the ancient communities of pre-​Roman Iberia; academics have been particularly obsessed with making archaeological data coincide with the available testimonies through acritical and anachronic interpretations, as if they were the main and only point of reference.3 Furthermore, traditional scholarship has used every single one of these sources, in order to situate, or in the best of the cases, reconstruct, the evolution of these communities (Turdetani, Mastieni, Iberi …), drawing their borders and locating their principal centres of power. The result resembles a fixed image with clear and stable limits through space and time, in which different groups coexist. This kind of analysis is usually based on the same premise: the communities of Iberia remained unaltered, with the same populations and identities, from the Late Iron Age until their incorporation into

* This paper forms part of the research projects ‘Ethnic Identities in southern Spain: Rise and Evolution in Antiquity (7th-2nd Century BCE)’ (hum 03482), and ‘Ethnic and Political-​Civic Identity in Roman Spain: The Case of the Turdetania-​Baetica’ (HAR2012–​32588). 1 For example, Untermann 1992, fig.  1; Almagro Gorbea and Ruiz Zapatero 1992, fig.  9; Ruiz Rodríguez and Molinos Molinos 1993, fig. 85; Bendala Galán 2000a, 23. 2 For a critique, see Domínguez Monedero 1983. 3 Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2002, 135–​38; García Fernández 2003, 17–​9.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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the Roman Empire. In this profoundly historicist approach, three main factors converge: –​ A secular interest of Spanish scholarship in identifying, through ethnic references in classical literature, the first communities in Iberia to have been historically known by name (Tartessians, Celtiberians, Lusitanians, etc.), considered to be the seeds of the future Hispanic people.4 –​ The weight of Altertumswissenschaft in historical studies, which prioritizes data from written sources (literary and epigraphic) over archaeological data, which is only used to confirm, support, complement or simply illustrate a narrative already provided by the texts. –​ The influence of the cultural-​historical paradigm on Spanish archaeology, which gained particular strength in the late nineteenth century and first half of the twentieth century, particularly the ethno-​cultural model, and proposed the existence of an ‘essentialist’ relation between communities, ethnic groups and archaeological cultures.5 However, as has been exposed in detail in the preface to this volume, a critical and detailed analysis of the sources demonstrates that the simple and static image often projected of the palaeo-​Hispanic communities does not correspond with the reality perceived and transmitted by the ancient authors. Their testimonies, which are often contradictory, reflect a complex world, undergoing constant change. It is a dynamic and multi-​faceted image, closer to the interpretations provided by archaeology in recent years.6 Therefore, theoretical and methodological assumptions, which have conditioned the study of historical and cultural processes in this region throughout the Iron Age and underlie the palaeo-​ethnological maps upheld for the Iberian Peninsula, must be revised in depth. Almost a decade ago, a deconstruction of ethno-​cultural readings of ancient Turdetania was proposed, through a critical analysis of the literary sources and historiographical traditions, which for years had accepted 4 Wulff Alonso 2003; see, with extensive bibliography, Bellón Ruiz and García Fernández 2009; García Fernández and Bellón Ruiz 2009; García Fernández and Fernández Götz 2010. 5 Jiménez López 2001. This model was enriched by the so-​called ‘Kossinna’s method’, developed by the German prehistorian in the early twentieth century (cf. Veit 2011). Assuming an ethnic correspondence with archaeological cultures, G. Kossinna thought it was possible to study the history of ethnic groups retrospectively, tracing their geographic distribution to the first references of these communities in the literary sources and correlating them with the material record. In other words, he believed it was possible to identify historical ethnic groups, known through the literary sources, with specific archaeological cultures of the earliest historical periods, being able to subsequently retrace them archaeologically in time (Fernández Götz 2008, 29). 6 See, for example, Cruz Andreotti and Mora Serrano 2004; Wulff Alonso and Álvarez Martí-​ Aguilar 2009; Sastre Prats 2009; Santos Yanguas and Cruz Andreotti 2012.

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Figure 4.1 Palaeo-​ethnological map of the Iberian Peninsula. according to almagro gorbea and ruiz zapatero (1992).

the existence of a ‘Turdetanian culture’, essentially belonging to the ancient Turdetani.7 Other contributions to this volume, particularly the works of P. Moret and G. Cruz Andreotti, review the geographical and historical dimension imprinted into these terms by the classical authors and their main problems of interpretation, so the topic will not be dealt with further. Nevertheless, an explanation will be offered for the concepts of ‘Turdetania’, ‘Turdetanians’ and ‘Turdetanian culture’, in the hope of shedding some light on the difficult task of exploring the traits, which may have defined and differentiated these communities from other ethnic or cultural groups in the same region. To start with, turdetania is an eminently geographical and literary concept, created during the period of conquest and implementation of Roman control structures in the Peninsula. Although the choronym Turdetania could have been originated from an ethnonym beginning with the root turt–​ or turd–​,8 there is no indication that it corresponded to any location or area of 7 García Fernández 2002a. 8 García Moreno 1989.

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a determined group. In fact, according to Strabo, this region comprised various ethne, such as the Bastetanians, who ‘also belong to Turdetania, and so do those Bastetanians beyond the Anas, and most of its immediate neighbours’ (Strab. 3.2.1; trans. by Jones 1923), stating further ahead that ‘these people became so utterly subject to the Phoenicians that the greater number of the cities in Turdetania and of the neighbouring places are now inhabited by the Phoenicians’ (Strab. 3.2.13; trans. by Jones 1923). Hence, in the literary sources, Turdetania appears as a geographical space with a political and administrative role, defined by relatively clear boundaries, largely coinciding with the limits of the future provincia Baetica.9 Moreover, Turdetania was not only inhabited by the Turdetanians, but also by Bastetanians, Oretanians, Celts, Turduli, and even Punics. The memory of Tartessus must have played an important role in the historical construction of the concept. It established a line of continuity between a prestigious past, fully integrated into the Mediterranean koiné –​ particularly due to the presence of Phoenicians and Greeks –​and a prosperous present, based on a booming economic and urban development, in line with the desired development for the expansion of Roman civilization.10 The term turdetani is first used as an ethnonym by late Hellenistic geographers and historians when referring to the inhabitants of the region; therefore, the term is contemporary with the process of romanization. A previously existing Turdetanian ethnic group cannot be deduced, because the words used by Graeco-​Roman geographers and historians (ethnos, génos, gens, populus, natio) are ambiguous and their assimilation to current notions of ‘ethnic group’ is very difficult.11 Furthermore, the ethnography of the time lacked theoretical and methodological bases similar to those of modern anthropology from which to approach the study of different cultures, for, among other things, the modern concept of ‘culture’ did not even exist then.12 Both terms, ‘Turdetanian’ and ‘Turdetania’ may actually be referring to a much more heterogeneous and complex population than what the classical authors were able to describe. Before the arrival of the Romans, there might not have been an only 9

10 11 12

Also through Strabo (3.1.6), we know that this region was framed approximately by the Guadiana River, to the west, the Intrabaetic Basin, to the east, the Sierra Morena, to the north, and to the south by the coastline between the mouth of the Guadiana and the Strait of Gibraltar. However, these limits were described at a posthumous date, shortly before the reforms of Augustus, and may have varied considerably during the long period of conquest. Cruz Andreotti 1993, 25; see also Cruz Andreotti 2007, 259–​60. García Fernández 2003, 24–​5; see also Cardete del Olmo 2004, who extensively analyses the use and different meanings of the term ethnos in classical Greek literature. Woolf 2011. On Hellenistic ethnography, see also the classic works of Dihle 1990; Gabba 1974; Grilli 1979, among others, and for a general work of reference Jacob 1991.

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Turdetanian group sensu stricto, but rather an ensemble of (ethnic?) groups, who were conscious of sharing a certain cultural affinity or kinship. This might have allowed for the creation, once the territories were under Roman rule, of a sufficiently wide and generic concept that would guarantee a simple and effective geo-​ethnographical articulation of the region, to the detriment of the existing diversity.13 Likewise, the diminutive Turduli only appears in some authors after the Roman conquest, at times differentiated from the Turdetani (Polybius, Livy, Ptolemy) and in other cases as part of a same community (Varro, Pliny, Pomponius Mela). Strabo echoed this problem and recognized the affinity existing between both groups, at least during his time (Strab. 3.1.6), although he did not shed any light on the criteria used by Polybius to distinguish them. Interestingly, the three authors that use the term ‘Turduli’ in reference to the native populations of Turdetania write in Latin, while the Greek geographers and historians applied the ethnonym more restrictedly, limited in some cases to the northern area of the Guadalquivir River and southern Extremadura (Polyb. 34.9 apud Strab. 3.1.6; Strab. 3.2.15), and in others to the mid-​upper Guadalquivir course, continuing into the interior of Bastetania (Ptol. 2.4.9).14 Pliny the Elder also located the Turduli in the region between the Guadalquivir and Guadiana rivers, called Baeturia, ‘divided into two parts and the same number of races, the Celtici bordering on Lusitania, of the jurisdiction of Seville, and the Turduli, who dwell on the borders of Lusitania and the Tarragon territory, but are in the jurisdiction of Cordova’ (nh 3.13; trans. by Rackham 1942). This is the geographical description, which has enjoyed most success among scholars, who have even identified a Baeturia turdulorum, with a geographical and ethnic entity of its own.15 It remains unclear whether the classical authors described members of a same community or two different ones. The lack of 13 14

15

García Fernández 2003, 197. Although Ptolemy also attributed to the Turduli certain populations of the Gaditanian coast, such as Bailon and Portus Menesthei (Ptol. 2.4.5), J. Untermann has called attention on the distribution of this ethnonym, which, similarly to the Celtici, extended throughout two very different cultural and linguistic areas:  the Baeturia, a territory dominated by place-​names and anthroponyms of clear ‘Hispano-​Celtic’ roots; and the southern Guadalquivir region, where a transition is noted from Iberian to Tartessian names. In his opinion, the latter belonged to a sub-​section of the great ethnic unit comprised by the Turdetani (sharing the root Turd-​), while the Turduli of Baeturia were actually a faction of the Celtici, whose original name was assimilated as a homophone to the ethnonym Turduli, employed by the Romans to designate the populations of inland Turdetania (Untermann 2004, 207–​8). See Rodríguez Díaz 1995; Berrocal Rangel 1995; 1998; Pérez Guijo 2001. A recent synthesis on the western Turduli, with extensive bibliography, in Paniego Díaz 2014.

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precision present in their works reflects the complexity they confronted, at a time, in which the dynamics of conquest stimulated the mobility of populations, leading to assimilation, hybridization or differentiation. Finally, Turdetanian Culture is a strictly archaeological concept, created to define and isolate a group of material evidence –​architecture, urbanism, metallurgy, and especially pottery –​shared by the populations of Turdetania. Although traditionally an ethnic character has been attributed to this concept, associating it exclusively with the Turdetanians –​who, in this way, could be differentiated from others, such as the Celts and the Punics –​Turdetanian culture actually transcends ethnic frontiers.16 As will be shown below, the term may only be used in a geographical or cultural sense, like the majority of the so-​ called ‘archaeological cultures’, for these only define a series of practices and material expressions, generally the most visible and iterative in the archaeological record –​excluding all those not preserved –​which are common to a determined area.17 In this way, the term ‘Turdetanian culture’ inadvertently refers to material manifestations shared by different groups, since it applies without distinction to local, Punic-​origin, and even Iberian elements. On the other hand, scholarship has barely used –​not even coined –​the term ‘Turduli culture’ in reference to the material evidence of their presumed neighbours. A set of conclusions may be drawn, which will be used as a base for analysing the cultures coexisting in this region from the Late Orientalizing period (sixth century bce) until its incorporation into the Roman world, as well as the processes of ethnogenesis, which may have been activated in situations of close interaction, cohabitation or conflict: –​ The terms ‘Turdetania’, ‘Turdetanians’ and ‘Turduli’ originated and spread during the process of romanization and are only understood in this context. –​ They do not necessarily respond to the human landscape populating this region in the Late Iron Age, although they may have played a role in the construction of new, aggregate identities. –​ These ethnonyms are not equivalent to our notions of ‘ethnicity’ or ‘ethnic group’. Their simplicity many times conceals the dynamic character of these populations, as well as the permeability of their boundaries. 16

17

Downs 1998, 49; Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2002, 145–​9. As stated by M. Downs (1998, 40), ‘Greek and Roman historical sources should be read as texts that convey information about the nature of the contact between Rome and its subject peoples, and about Greek and Roman perceptions of those peoples; they should not be the basis for determining the identification of archaeological cultures, even less for the identification of ethnic groupings’. Following the classic definition by Childe 1929, v–​vi, quoted in Trigger 1989, 170. A historiographical and theoretical revision of the concept in Roberts and Vander Linden 2011.

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–​ The concept of ‘Turdetanian culture’ is anachronic because it is not applicable sensu stricto before the conquest. However, it is conventionally used in reference to the populations of the inner Guadalquivir Valley during the Late Iron Age. –​ Therefore, it may not be assimilated exclusively to an ethnic group. It is shared by culturally similar communities, living in proximity, in a specific geographical area (Turdetania), regardless of the ethnogenesis processes taking place during these centuries. –​ Pre-​Roman ethnic groups were not static. On the contrary, they maintained a relative dynamism, which sometimes resulted in actual mobility. Pre-​Roman Turdetania remains largely unknown and has not received sufficient attention by the scientific community. This is due, mainly, to the interest attracted by its immediate predecessor, the ‘Tartessian culture’; Tartessian material culture and historical transcendence have captured the attention of both academia and public opinion.18 It may even be said that the weight of historiographical tradition has turned Turdetanian culture into an epiphenomenon of Tartessus, although there is no indication supporting their division as essentially different populations, beyond the changes taking place in the Late Orientalizing period and the so-​called ‘crisis of the sixth century bc’.19 However, as mentioned above, there exists an ingrained tendency to include the Turdetani among the ‘Iberian’ communities.20 Subsequently, the Turdetanian culture is usually considered a southern extension of the ‘Iberian culture’, especially if only certain features are considered, shared with groups of upper Andalusia and the Spanish Levant –​pottery, architectural techniques or urbanism–,​elements which do not correspond to local factors, but to the influence exerted in the previous period by Phoenician colonization. Therefore, it is common to encounter in archaeological literature expressions such as ‘Iberian pottery’

18 19

20

García Fernández 2002b, 220. García Fernández 2002a, 197. In fact, if the populations living in the Tartessian area remained the same throughout the Iron Age, excepting the presence and intrusion of new groups, such as the western Phoenicians, Carthaginians or Celts, and such populations were able to retain certain cultural features and practices, used eventually as identity markers, the concept of ‘Turdetanian culture’ may even be inappropriate, for it would constitute an exogenous ethnonym, created at a later time period. P. Moret (2011) is much more critical; he even doubts that the community known as the Turdetani by the Romans in the first moments of the conquest actually corresponded with the populations living in the Guadalquivir Valley, as later stated by Strabo. See also Moret’s contribution in this same volume. Ruiz Rodríguez 2008; Sánchez Moreno 2008; Benítez de Lugo 2013, are only a few of the most recent examples.

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used in reference to Turdetanian productions or other compound forms, such as ‘Iberian-​Turdetanian’ or even ‘Iberian-​Phoenician’.21 Other scholars see in Turdetanian culture an evolution of local populations of the Guadalquivir Valley during the Late Iron Age, as a consequence of the transformations derived from the crisis of Tartessus. For M.  Pellicer, ‘the ­Iberian influence over western Andalusia was simply a consequence of the Bronze Age Tartessians adapting to material culture and spiritual forms introduced by the Phoenician colonization of the eighth century bce, with certain contributions of the Greek world and sporadic influences of the Atlantic sphere and the central Iberian Plateau’.22 On the other hand, D. Ruiz Mata considers the Turdetani ‘to be the descendants of the communities populating the same territory during the Orientalizing period, although confronting a different socio-​economic situation, in which Gadir played an important role as a commercial centre after the fall of the eastern markets and even of other Iberian markets’.23 However, he believes Turdetanian culture to be the net product of hybridization between the local substrate and ways of life introduced by the Syrian-​Palestinian colonizers, i.e., it was a mixed culture, where local elements are difficult to discern from the allochthonous.24 Following a considerably different line, J.L. Escacena believes the Turdetanians were the transmitters of a cultural heritage originating from the native populations of the south-​west, that is, communities populating the region when the Phoenicians arrived. This heritage was masked by other cultural elements (especially technological advances) brought by oriental colonizers and, therefore, also shared by other populations in contact with them in the south and the Spanish Levant. Once the colonial period was over, the Turdetanians were able to recover their ‘lost identity’ through a revival of their ancestral customs, presumably maintained by the lower social classes, especially regarding beliefs and ritual practices. These practices do not relate them to the Iberian communities, but with the cultures occupying the Atlantic façade in late prehistory.25 In other words, Escacena recognizes continuity in the most intimate and exclusive cultural elements to be found among the communities living in the Turdetanian region from the Late Bronze Age onwards, which had survived among the Tartessian communities during the Orientalizing period. Now then, what are the elements characterizing the Turdetanians and differentiating 21 22 23 24 25

Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2008, 201–​2. Translated into English from Pellicer Catalán 1976–​78, 21. Translated into English from Ruiz Mata 1998, 156. Ruiz Mata 1998, 161–​2. Escacena Carrasco 1989; 1992 and, including new aspects, 2004.

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them from the neighbouring Punics, Oretanians or Bastetanians? It was certainly not pottery, despite being one of the most characteristic elements of the Turdetanian culture. It was not urbanism, construction techniques, or metallurgy either, for these were technological advances with scarce symbolic value, easily transferred from one culture to another. For J.L. Escacena, ethnic affiliation for the communities settled along the Guadalquivir Valley in Pre-​Roman times may be deduced ‘through spiritual patterns of conduct, rather than through material culture (…). From this point of view, language, religion, burial rituals, totemic systems, family and social organization, rights over historical territory, community consciousness expressed in self-​given ethnonyms, economic systems, etc., jointly constituted the differentiating element for these communities, over other considerations such as technological aspects, which were no more than material adaptations to determined geographical circumstances and a specific ecological niche’.26 Escacena’s proposal constituted a point of inflection for research in the field because, for the first time, an emic perspective was adopted, though not explicitly, which placed the community’s self-​perceived (subjective) image of their own culture before traditional historicist secular classifications and formal criteria ascribed to pre-​Roman Turdetanian populations.27 Hence, ethnic identity was not necessarily expressed through material elements, subject to objectification, but only through those aspects, traits or behaviours imbued with meaning, which were recognized by the rest of the community.28 However, despite introducing a new dimension to the study of Turdetanian culture, Escacena’s thesis still considered Turdetanians as a defined ethnic group, with their own identity, who survived throughout the entire Iron Age. A few years later, M. Downs took a step further by admitting there did not exist for Turdetania a direct correlation between the names transmitted by the classical authors, archaeological cultures, and even less, with the ethnic groups distributed throughout the region,29 revealing the need to develop a methodology, which would allow for the archaeological identification of 26 27 28

29

Translated into English from Escacena Carrasco 1992, 323. García Fernández and Bellón Ruiz 2009, 104. As already proposed by F.  Barth (1969, 14)  almost fifty years before, ‘It is important to recognise that although ethnic categories take cultural differences into account, we can assume no simple one-​to-​one relationship between ethnic units and cultural similarities and differences. The features that are taken into account are not the sum of “objective” differences, but only those which the actors themselves regard as significant’, that is, traits could only acquire an ethnic meaning when regarded subjectively as peculiar and exclusive by members of the same social group. Downs 1998, 40–​2.

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manifestations capable of transmitting expressions of collective identity. The scholar even doubts the archaeological validity of the concept ‘Turdetanian culture’, for ‘neither the end of Tartessos nor the beginning of the Roman period can, from an indigenous perspective, be defined by any true cultural break. Both termini are marked by continuity (…). Between these termini, the peoples inhabiting southern Spain evolved in varying ways, showing a highly diverse range of responses and adaptations to conditions both external and internal’.30 Nevertheless, she never offers an alternative for the cultural characterizations of these groups or insight into the role played by these traits in ethnogenetic processes. It is necessary, at any rate, to avoid falling into what G.S. Reher has defined as an ‘introduction to ethnicity-​syndrome’, a scientific pathology which assumes theoretical advances in ethnicity studies without modifying the initial assumptions or methods of material cultural analysis, therefore maintaining to a great extent, consciously or unconsciously, inherited inertias from the cultural-​historical model.31 The problem resides, on one hand, in the geographical scope of the concept ‘Turdetanian culture’, which may cover –​as explained above –​different ethnic groups sharing similar cultural habits (language, beliefs, ways of life, etc.), as well as groups who are culturally different, for example, the Phoenicians inhabiting Turdetania, which detracts from the efficiency of the term. Even when applying the concept in a more restrictive sense, as referring only to a part of these populations, we are confronted with a lack of criteria with which to characterize or differentiate them. On the other hand, even if one or two groups with more or less similar behaviour were isolated from the rest, nothing proves these manifestations were actually used as ethnic markers, more so, when considering they probably varied throughout time. Let us not forget ethnicity is a social construct, and as such, is subject to constant redefinitions in line with historical circumstances. This also affects the way material culture is involved in the exteriorization of identity and the way different elements interact with each other in a discursive process, which could eventually turn them into devices of adscription or exclusion. The absence of burials, the scant evidence available for ritual practices and beliefs, the lack of iconographic representations and the sparse inscriptions –​ already in the Roman period  –​do not leave much for the archaeologist in terms of determining diacritical signs, which may have been used consciously or unconsciously by Turdetanian communities to express their identity. Only the reference to a Turdetanian ‘people’ in Roman sources would allow us to 30 31

Ibid., 52. Reher Díez 2011, 656–​7.

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assume, with the reservations exposed above, the existence of ethnic entities, originating from the mix of a Tartessian cultural substrate and different contemporary groups, such as the Punics, the Bastetanians, the Oretanians, etc. If Strabo’s information is accepted (3.2.13), many cities, in Turdetania and its proximities, were still inhabited by Phoenicians, showing sufficient cultural differences to be distinguished from the other ‘native’ populations in the region. What resources are available to identify and characterize them archaeologically? As suggested a few years ago,32 the absence of archaeological evidence could reveal a homogenous behaviour, shared by a large part of the population of lower Andalusia, coinciding with the groups generically known as Turdetani. That is, it might be possible to distinguish these communities from their neighbours (Phoenicians, Bastetanians, etc.) precisely by what they don’t have, in other words, by what they do not express or express in a different way. Such could be the case with writing, which was absent throughout the majority of the region; religious beliefs, which may have been aniconic; or burial rituals, which do not seem to have involved the inhumation of bodies.33 The possibility remains for religious places to have been located outside urban limits, associated with natural elements –​caves, springs or forests –​as happened in other areas of ‘Indo-​European Iberia’,34 limiting their identification. This does not mean their cultural traits worked as ethnic boundaries, for we do not know to what extent they were used consciously as elements of adscription or exclusion. However, it does encourage the exploration of other forms of expressing identity, which may have passed unnoticed by archaeologists, due to ambiguity in the communication of these forms or their scant material representation. Such aspects may include settlement types, habitat structure, strategies of economic exploitation, modes of production, domestic practices, names and kinship. These factors often hide patterns full of meaning, which may become prime sources of information for understanding social processes generating feelings of group identity. On the other hand, other attributes would have been involved in the construction of identity, such as hairstyle, beards, tattoos, personal adornments, garment colour, or simply ways of dressing,35 all of which played a role, not only in ethnic, but also in civic, social, gender and age related identities. The majority of these external signs were perishable and were 32 33 34 35

García Fernández 2007, 131. Escacena Carrasco 1992. Also Belén Deamos and Escacena Carrasco 1992; Escacena ­Carrasco and Belén Deamos 1994; 1998. Marco Simón 2005. Schildkrout 2004; Barber 1999; Gage 1999; Eicher 1995.

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therefore not preserved in the archaeological record and may only be recognized through figurative representations. Opportunities have arisen lately to explore some of these manifestations. The aim is not as much to identify objective indicators of Turdetanian identity (as often done with index fossils), but to find ways in which material culture may have served as communication media for determined ways of life, beliefs and perceptions; in sum, for practices which may have eventually acquired significant value in the generation and manifestation of ethnic identities in the region.36 Against essentialist stances in traditional archaeology and instrumental approaches dominating theoretical debate in the last decades of the twentieth century, S. Jones opened a line of interpretation which understands ethnic identity in archaeology not as an external cultural aspect or attribute, but as a socially constructed subjective perception.37 She relies on P. Bourdieu’s ‘theory of action’ and concept of habitus,38 already adapted to ethnicity studies by G.C. Bentley a decade before.39 From this perspective, ethnic affinity originates from daily experiences, generated under similar ways of life (habitus).40 Social practice frames an individual’s perception of the world and provides a series of customs allowing for group identification, as well as differentiation from other individuals, who do not share the same habits. Nevertheless, Jones does not believe there exists a direct relationship between habitus and ethnicity, because feelings of identity do not emanate automatically from the recognition of similarities or affinities among members of a same group, but rather seem to spring from the recognition of differences between one group and others.41 In other words, in order to activate a consciousness of belonging, it is necessary to perceive otherness, leading to the objectification and affirmation of habitus, which will ultimately be accepted by all members of the group as something evident. This is only possible in contexts of close social interaction, and is therefore conditioned by the way different groups establish relations between each other. On the other hand, the dynamic, situational and multidimensional nature of ethnicity must also be considered, for it converges with other spheres of identity, such as age, 36 37 38 39 40 41

Chaves Tristán et al. 2006; Jiménez Flores and García Fernández 2006; García Fernández and García Vargas 2010; García Fernández 2007; 2012; 2015. Jones understands ethnic identity as ‘that aspect of a person’s self-​conceptualization which results from identification with a broader group in opposition to others on the basis of perceived cultural differentiation and /​or common descent’ (Jones 1997, xiii). Bourdieu 1972, 175. Bentley 1987. Ibid., 33. Jones 1997, 93–​4. See also Eriksen 1993, 9–​10.

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gender or social class.42 Ethnicity is ‘only one of the many entangled expressions of individual and group identity, which in turn constitute different possible levels of social aggregates’.43 Hence, ethnicity should not be considered as a static phenomenon, but as an ongoing process, an interaction.44 This is known as ‘active ethnicity’ or ‘continued ethnogenesis’,45 that is, the constant reaffirmation or rectification of identity values in a social group, activated by a series of internal and/​or external stimuli, as part of a historical process. In sum, it may be stated that ‘ethnicity as a social identity is both collective and individual, externalized in social interaction and internalized in personal self-​ identification’.46 Assuming these premises, material culture should not be understood as a passive and static reflection of culture. On the contrary, it constitutes a fundamental part of social practice, so logically it also participates actively in the production of discursive representations of identity.47 However, not all objects are equally involved in the recognition and expression of identity, in general, and of ethnic identity in particular. Only those which intervene the closest in the creation of habitus, and therefore acquire a representative value at determined moments, may become, for individuals, mechanisms for the objectification of their ways of life, values and perception of the world. Preferences for certain elements, the selection of types and decorations, are not in any way arbitrary or automatic decisions; they are intimately linked to the social context which produces them.48 Likewise, it appears evident that meanings bestowed on objects are not static or unique either; they are also constantly subject to change and re-​elaboration. Furthermore, the same item distributed widely throughout a territory, used in diverse social and historical contexts, may be consumed in different ways and involved in the generation and signification of varied expressions of identity.49 The discursive and contingent character of ethnicity greatly hinders the archaeological study of ethnic groups and their boundaries, particularly when considering the diversity of situations and social contexts in which a sense of belonging may be activated. However, this does not mean ethnicity, as a 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

Ashmore et al. 2004. An interesting reflection on Pre-​Roman cultures of Iberia in Díaz-​ Andreu 1998. Reher and Fernández Götz 2015, 404. Jenkins 2008, 5. See also Gosselain 2000, 188, with extensive bibliography. Nicolescu 2011, 11, following Brather 2004, 49–​50. Jenkins 1997, 14. Jones 1998, 273; Lucy 2005, 102. Jones 1997, 120. Ibid., 122–​4.

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phenomenon, cannot be tackled by archaeology.50 Variability should not be considered a limitation, but one of identity’s properties, as a trait of human conduct in its social dimension.51 It is necessary to consider variability if we are to analyse ethnogenesis as a process and identify its cultural implications. The aim, therefore, is not the indiscriminate search for ethnic markers, but to determine what items or aspects of material culture may acquire at a given moment, according to historical circumstances, an emblematic character, as a reflection of collective identity.52 Through the understanding of cultural contexts, based on a wide variety of sources and data, it becomes possible to detect the circumstances and the ways in which society is able to transform material elements found in daily life into active ethnic symbols and vice versa, by studying transformations in their nature and distribution.53 This forces us to rethink the method used for characterizing the different groups coexisting in Turdetania, separating ‘objective’ cultural traits from the way in which these were used by populations immersed in a dynamic and diachronic process, by which they could circumstantially become elements of adscription or exclusion. As mentioned above, historical Turdetani did not leave material evidence clearly differentiated from other southern communities, such as Punics or Iberians, except for some nuances. However, this does not exclude the possibility that they developed a more or less ample and diverse identity consciousness throughout the Iron Age, motivated in part by the Carthaginian presence. Such a consciousness was crystallized during the Roman conquest into a formula –​transmitted by the classical authors –​in which the exogenous perspective, motivated by territorial and administrative control, is integrated with local reactions to the new situation.54 Excavated sites show that material culture does not seem to have played a relevant role in expressing Turdetanian identity, or at least not explicitly; codes may not have been contained in the form or in the decoration, but in the use of the object (its function), as well as in other perishable elements which have not survived. 50 51

52 53 54

Olsen and Kobylinski 1991, 23. On the possibilities of archaeological study on ethnicity, see the reflection by Fernández Götz 2008, 119–​25. Howard 2000. I have previously defined this as a ‘principle of social uncertainty’ (García Fernández 2007, 122): the greater the precision in identifying an ethnic group in a determined place and moment, the greater the difficulty in extrapolating its identity values to other contexts in space and time; and the greater the precision in identifying cultural patterns which historically define an ethnic group, the greater the difficulties in detecting the particularities of the ethnogenetic process in each phase. Olsen and Kobylinski 1991, 13–​7, 23. Jones 1997, 125–​6. García Fernández 2002a; 2004; 2012; Cruz Andreotti 2007.

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Thus, attention is diverted from the material itself (the objects) to the form in which they were used, together forming material assemblages with meanings (contexts).55 This is the only way to understand the emblematic value certain practices acquired in the frame of social relations, as mechanisms of cohesion, and their symbolic value in the creation of cultural and ethnic frontiers. Such could be the case of pottery. For years, common ware, decorated pieces in particular, were used as ethnic or cultural markers to differentiate Turdetanian populations from their neighbours. However, ‘Turdetanian pottery’ is a local evolution of the variety existing already during the Orientalizing period, the result of a synthesis of Late Bronze Age productions and eastern traditions imported by Phoenician colonizers which ultimately overtook not only fabrication procedures, formal prototypes and decorative techniques, but also modes of artisan production.56 It is therefore very similar to Punic pottery, as they share a common origin, although Turdetanian pottery also presents similarities with Iberian ware of upper Andalusia and even with pottery productions from the Punic-​Mauritanian region, which not only developed at the same time, but shared the same influences, as part of the economic and cultural sphere known as the ‘Circle of the Strait’. Although one could even speak of typical Turdetanian, ‘Iberian’ or Punic-​Gaditanian ware, given certain characteristic traits in their morphology and decoration,57 it is complicated, if not impossible, to relate them to specific ethnic groups. Only some ceramic productions, belonging to the Punic sphere, such as amphorae, cooking ware or Kuass ware,58 as well as specific forms and decorations from upper Andalusia,59 allow for any kind of general definition of what is not Turdetanian, in comparison with the monotonous repertoire characterizing the lower Guadalquivir. Let us not forget that the intensification of commercial relations inevitably led to the mobility of these artefacts, which were d­ istributed and consumed in different environments from their original production and social contexts. Subsequently, the concept of ‘Turdetanian p ­ ottery’ must be freed of any ethnic connotation. It is more correctly employed in reference to the production and consumption of local common ware by the populations 55 56

57 58 59

Hodder 1986, 139–​42. Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2008, 201–​3. Beyond its formal and functional traits, this kind of wheeled pottery is identified by its clear and refined fabric, fired in an oxidized atmosphere or by alternation, generally covered by a cream or orange coloured layer of barbotine and often decorated with lines or painted geometric motifs. Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2002, 146. For a general appraisal see, Sáez Romero 2010; on Kuass ware, there is a recent synthesis in Niveau de Villedary 2014; see also Moreno Megías 2016. Pereira Sieso 1988; 1989.

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Figure 4.2 Turdetanian pottery: common storage and cooking ware. Urns and vases: 1 and 2 (Italica), 3 (Vico) 4 (Italica), 5 (Italica), 6 (Italica); mortars: 7 (Spal), 8 and 9 (Italica); bowls: 10–​12 (Spal); cooking pots: 13 and 14 (Italica), 15 and 16 (Cerro Macareno). Cooking ware of central Mediterranean Punic tradition. Casseroles: 17 (Spal); mortar-​dishes: 18 (Spal). Drawings by F.J. GARCÍA FERNÁNDEZ.

living inside the geographical limits established for Turdetania in the literary sources.60 Nevertheless, if the composition of the assemblages are analysed in detail, it is possible to identify patterns related to food preparation and consumption, which could carry cultural connotations and serve as distinctive elements in the 60

Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2002, 146–​7; Id. 2008, 201. Based on these same contributions, as well as on previous studies by J.L. Escacena (1986; 1989; 1992), M.C. Coto Sarmiento (2011:  298–​301) has recently reviewed the different elements used to define Turdetanian identity, placing particular attention on the problems surrounding Turdetanian pottery, although also considering possibilities for future research on the subject.

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negotiation of identities. Indeed, the first thing that comes to mind is the process by which the set of Turdetanian common ware was created, including vessels with different uses, mainly for storage, tableware and the preparation of cold foods (Figures 4.2–​4.3).61 These productions are the clearest exponent of a long process of selective hybridization between local and eastern traditions, which result in a corpus of reduced, monotonous and extremely functional forms. Even if eastern prototypes predominated, introduced centuries before by Phoenician potters, they clearly adapted to the needs of the users, that is, to specific practices, which incorporated cultural meaning (hybridization) despite maintaining to a large extent their original aesthetics and formal aspects. Once Turdetanian ware became clearly identifiable, sometime between the fifth–​fourth century bce, a process of formal stasis began, not only in the composition of the assemblages, but also in their morphology, which underwent scarce evolution, save small nuances, in the following four hundred years.62 Only in the late fourth century bce were new forms and attributes introduced in some of the types, which could suggest a budding inclination towards Greek or Punic tastes. In the majority of the cases, this influx was reduced to the almost anecdotal incorporation of certain elements and details in the morphology of the pots, as may be seen in the example of the annular bases (Figure 4.2: 1, 2, 8, 9). In other cases, completely new table​ware forms were adopted which suggest a Greek origin or inspiration, such as fish plates, and later, jars and incurving rim bowls for serving drinks. However, their presence in domestic contexts of inner Andalusia is late and marginal, reflecting the conservative and, to a certain extent, frugal nature of Turdetanian pottery, and therefore also of the domestic practices they were associated with (Figure 4.3: 9, 17).63 This phenomenon is also perceived in the imported pieces. The early black-​slip Attic ware and later the Gaditanian Kuass ware (Figure 4.3: 22–​23) and Campanian productions (Figure 4.3: 24–​30) did not reveal in their predominating types any change in consumption patterns, but rather an adaptation of Graeco-​Punic tastes to local uses, revealing a more apparent than real hellenization. The resulting contexts clearly contrast with other contemporary consumption patterns, in which the quantity, variety and composition of imported wares corresponded with the social practices of their main users, the Punics and Italians.64 Nevertheless, it is the cooking ware which reflects most outstandingly the existence of genuine and extremely change-​resistant culinary habits, despite 61 62 63 64

Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2008, 203–​4. García Fernández 2007, 130. García Fernández and Sáez Romero 2014; García Fernández 2014. García Fernández and García Vargas 2010; García Vargas and García Fernández 2009; for a general overview, see the recent monograph edited by García Fernández and García Vargas 2014.

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Figure 4.3 Turdetanian pottery: common tableware. Bowls: 1, 6 and 17 (Italica), 2 and 3 (Alhonoz), 4 and 5 (Spal); dishes: 7 (Ilipa Magna), 8 (Spal), 9 (Alhonoz), 10 and 11 (Montemolín), 12 (Huelva); porringers: 13 (Italica), 14 (Vico); goblet-​shaped vases: 15 and 16 (Italica); oil lamp bowls: 18 and 19 (Alhonoz), 20 (Italica), 21 (Spal). “Kuass” type Punic ware. Niveau II fish plates: 22 (Spal); Niveau IX cups: 23 (Spal). Campanian A and B Italian ware. Morel 3614 cups: 24 (Spal); Lamb. 38 a-​b bowls: 25 (Spal); Lamb. 27 b and Lamb. 27 c cups: 26 and 27 (Spal); Lamb. 36 pateras: 28 (Spal); Lamb. 5 and Lamb. 7 pateras: 29 and 30 (Spal). drawings by F.J. GARCÍA FERNÁNDEZ.

the gradual arrival to the coast of Iberia of new forms of food preparation and subsequently of new tastes from the central Mediterranean. The majority of domestic levels excavated in inland Turdetania only offer cooking pots (Figure 4.2: 13–​16), accompanied by a growing presence of Punic-​tradition mortars (Figure 4.2: 7–​9), used for grinding and mixing ingredients, which fit the traditional diet of the region, mainly composed of cereal purees and porridges, legume stews and perhaps meat stews. Casseroles and large plates (Figure 4.2: 17–​ 18), associated respectively with frying or cooking with small quantities of water and baking, barely penetrated the inner Guadalquivir area, even during the Carthaginian occupation and the subsequent Roman conquest.65 Once again, the

65

García Fernández and García Vargas 2010, 123–​4; García Fernández and Sáez Romero 2014.

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archaeological contexts leave little doubt on the coexistence of perfectly differentiated culinary practices, even inside the same community.66 It was not until the end of the second century and beginning of the first century bce that new cooking ware was gradually adopted, mixing north-​African influences (through Gadir) and Italian productions of central Mediterranean origin (casseroles, fryers, Pompeian Red plates, etc.). Even then, they never replaced boiling as the predominant way of preparing food. This process of gastronomic assimilation coincided with the expansion of Campanian ware and deserves further study. On the one hand, it was related to the increase of Italian contingents in the main urban centres and mining districts of the region, and on the other, to the gradual integration of local elites to Roman ways of life.67 Eating was not only a biological need, rather a part of cultural habit, and as such, was socially constructed. Culinary traditions provide information on many cultural aspects, such as ways of life, social relations and differences, beliefs, symbolic or ritual practices, and of course, also on identity, in all of its dimensions.68 Surely, it is not easy to identify cultural groups through culinary traditions, particularly in the archaeological record, although there are cases, as shown above, in which material remains offer clues on specific ways of preparation and consumption; these were more or less homogenous and repetitive, and could be associated with specific groups.69 In this sense, it is not the ceramic types or decorative techniques –​as has been traditionally thought –​what allow for the identification of cultural or ethnic adscriptions, but the use (function) of these different vessels, in relation to determined foods, their processing and serving. Patterns are reflected in the archaeological record through the presence/​absence of productions and specific types, their numbers, and combinations with other elements (context). It is just as difficult to draw cultural or ethnic boundaries, at least from a spatial perspective, when considering other archaeological evidence in the same distribution contexts, including epigraphy and numismatics, already known for the Roman period. Likewise, the evidence reveals the complexity contained in interethnic relations, especially in those places where interaction was most intense between different communities. This may have been the case with emporia situated on the shores of the Guadalquivir (Spal, Ilipa, etc.), inhabited by mixed populations, Turdetanian and Punic mainly, although there 66 67 68 69

García Vargas and García Fernández 2009. García Fernández and García Vargas 2010, 131. For differing perspectives, see Goody 1982; Bourdieu 1996; Caplan 1997; and a synthesis in Mintz and Du Bois 2002, with extensive bibliography. Lucy 2005, 105.

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might have also existed elements of Celtic, Iberian and later Italian origin.70 The same is observed in the great centres of the inland farmlands (Carmo, Urso), where archaeology leaves no doubt as to the continued presence of Semitic communities, sharing a more or less established coexistence with the local substrates.71 There were also areas of contact between different cultural regions, where influences permeated both ways: Genil Valley and the mid Guadalquivir Valley (Turdetani –​ Turduli?-​ Bastetani); Lacus Ligustinus and the Gaditanian countryside (Turdetani-​Punici); Sierra Morena and the mid Guadiana Valley (Turdetani-​Celtici). Rather than speaking of fixed and compact ethnic territories, it is preferable to consider areas of predominance (Figure 4.4),72 that is, places where the largest cultural component was either Punic, Turdetanian, Turduli or Celt, coexisting with other populations which constitute, to a greater or lesser extent, minorities. However, such a predominance is not necessarily a demographical one, it may also be political or socio-​economic. Some Turdetanian or Turduli cities and regions were probably controlled or managed by Punic elites, and later by the Italians (as was the case for Carteia or Corduba when they became Latin colonies).73 Logically, this complicates even more the subject under study, for ethnic groups coexist with political or elite identities. All data seem to point at the relevance of political or civic identities in Turdetania, far more represented at a collective level than ethnic identity, particularly when considering that for over five hundred years very diverse human groups had been living in the same places, sharing in many cases interests and means of subsistence. This does not mean ethnicity was not used as an element of classification or organization, objectified in specific cultural aspects. People still spoke Punic, Iberian or Indo-​European dialects; they dressed and adorned themselves according to regulated patterns; practiced burial rites and honoured their different gods following tradition; consumed food according to habits and local or foreign trends, etc. In sum, they maintained cultural elements and exclusive values to each group, although these were expressed generally through daily interactions as part of a civic community. Many of these populations may have lived under a political authority, represented by an elite, which promoted an (ethnic-​social) official identity, which did not necessarily represent the majority of the population, to the detriment of the existing diversity. 70 71 72 73

Ferrer Albelda et al. 2008; García Vargas et al. 2008. See, among others, Bendala Galán 1994 or Ferrer Albelda 2007. García Fernández 2007, 136. This is gauged, for example, from coin evidence:  Domínguez Monedero 2000; Chaves Tristán 1994, 2000; 2008.

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Figure 4.4 Map of western Andalusia, largely coinciding with ancient Turdetania, locating settlements and main areas of ethno-​cultural predominance. map by f.j. garcía fernández.

Logically, this circumstance complicates the possibility of defining clear boundaries between groups, especially at a territorial scale, hence new shades must be applied to the concept of the ethnic boundary, or it must even be substituted for a new concept, that of the social boundary.74 Palaeo-​Hispanic communities materialized their territoriality in different ways.75 The ­Turdetanian region was composed of extremely permeable areas of ethnic/​cultural predominance, diluted under a varying number of political and territorial units, which acted as a nexus among different groups and as catalysers of socio-​ political relations (Figures 4.4–​4.5). These political units were generally heterogeneous and led by an elite representing the predominant human group, either from a demographical or socio-​political perspective. In some cases, ethnic identity may have been mixed with class identity, for often integration was related to position and the role played by each group inside the community76 (Figure 4.5). 74 75 76

García Fernández 2007, 136. See Grau Mira 2012. Eriksen 1993, 7.

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At what level did interethnic communication function? Relations were fixed at a local level, individually or collectively, among members which shared the same territory or lived in the same community (i.e., inside political boundaries), by a set of significant elements of adscription or exclusion, which evoked and reinforced their respective spheres of belonging (Figure 4.5). Subsequently, ethnic limits or social boundaries were not unbreakable, physical barriers between homogenous cultural groups, but communication channels, which facilitated coercion and stimulated the re-​elaboration of collective identities.77 The phenomenon has recently been defined as internal boundaries, a concept created on the base of P. Bourdieau’s concept of habitus and A. Schütz’s intersubjectivity, intended for analysing and describing intercultural communication in situations of close interaction.78 From this perspective, two categories or facets of boundaries emerge: on the one hand, we have the boundary as a limit or demarcation, where two or more groups encounter and compete, defending and protecting forms and meanings of life, which they consider to be indispensable, by unleashing feelings of differentiation and belonging (identity). On the other hand, there is the boundary as a place of interaction and communication, a physical or mental space, porous and permeable, where cultural and social identities are negotiated, leading to new hybrid or heterodox forms.79 Contrary to a physical boundary, an internal boundary is conceived as a ‘symbolic place, where simultaneously and dialectically, meanings are produced and reproduced, allowing subjects to perceive themselves and others, and apprehend the world around them. An internal boundary is not circumscribed to a limit or territorial perimeter, but rather to an amorphous place, in which the symbolic universes of subjects and groups are activated. It is an area where identities, representations, meanings, and worldviews are segmented, distinguished and separated, while also being mixed, juxtaposed and shared’.80 Hence, these spaces not only promoted a 77 78

79 80

García Fernández 2007, 136. Rizo García and Romero Aldaya 2006; Pech Salvador et  al. 2009. See also Rizo García 2009. For these authors, intercultural communication is established and developed as an inseparable part of social practice, hence falling under the structured and structuring regulations of habitus, while at the same time conditioned by the social position occupied by groups and individuals inside a community. This explains how, in contexts of close cultural interaction, ethnic identity, social (class) identity and political identity could often overlap. As stated by Olsen and Kobylinski (1991, 22), ‘power-​relations between groups are of vital importance for determining conditions such as the degree of movement of individuals across ethnic boundaries, and for the selection of strategies in the articulation of inter-​ethnic relations’. Rizo García and Romero Aldaya 2006, 37–​8. Translated into English from Pech Salvador et al. 2009, 36–​7.

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Figure 4.5 Hypothesis on the way relations were established among ethnic, civic and social identities, in contexts of close, multicultural interaction, as well as types of boundaries, which may have existed between different groups. Design by f.j. garcía fernández.

sense of belonging and differentiation, but also facilitated the transmission of information and integration; here, common and compatible social practices were generated among socially different agents, many times orchestrated by the elite.81 However, despite its liminal character, internal boundaries are dynamic and difficult to define –​as are the identities that produce them. As in modern societies, social boundaries marked and articulated contact between different groups in antiquity, becoming at the same time structuring axes and channels of communication between members of a community. Logically, this kept identities under permanent revision and construction through daily practice. In many cases, these were personal or familiar boundaries, established even between neighbours and expressed through origin, language, dress, hairstyle, religious beliefs, taboos or food. Among all these, culinary traditions, including patterns of food preparation and consumption, forms of dining, and all the tangible and intangible aspects involved, may provide rich

81

Rizo García and Romeo Aldaya 2006, 44.

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data on the cultural traits and social habits of these communities, for they constitute inseparable elements from daily life, which were often charged with symbolic meaning and participated actively in the construction of collective identities. Lastly, let us not forget that ethnicity and its vehicles of expression may vary in function depending on the different circumstances, players, and situations, interacting with other levels of identity such as gender, age, social class or other spheres of affiliation (religion, politics, military, etc.). This forces us to approach identity with extreme caution and abstraction when searching for elements involved in the construction and representation of the symbolic dimensions of individuals and groups, for various forms of ‘self’ coincide in the same space or even in the same object.82 Moreover, identity is also closely linked to power relations. Ethnicity may be manifested at different scales of a social organization and its forms of expression may even be different for members of a same group.83 Contexts of negotiation and representation of identities may have an official or public dimension (held, for example, by the dominant elite), as well as a local or private dimension (individual or collective), and so, therefore, can their manifestations. Subsequently, ‘ethnic markers’ such as coins, inscriptions or official cults (belonging to a civic and ultimately elite identity), cannot be considered at the same level as, for example, consumption habits, names, private religiosity or burial practices. 82 83

Díaz-​Andreu 1998, 207–​14. Reher and Fernández Götz 2015, 404–​5.

Chapter 5

Ethnic and Cultural Identity among Punic Communities in Iberia Eduardo Ferrer Albelda 1 Introduction In the last few decades, the postmodern agenda in Archaeology has introduced debates on ethnic identity,1 in which Phoenicians,2 Greeks3 and other ancient communities have been examined.* These studies on ethnic identity aim at determining the degree of self-​consciousness and self-​recognition of these communities:  knowing how they perceived themselves, how they differed  –​ particularly from their neighbours –​and how they were seen by others. For Greeks and Romans, the evolution of such perceptions may be studied through literary sources. However, barely any vernacular texts have been preserved for eastern Phoenicians and their Mediterranean diaspora, forcing scholars to rely on the opinions of foreign witnesses and on material culture –​an important source of information for studies on ethnic identity. In previous work,4 I  have approached ethnicity from an instrumental or functionalist perspective, conceiving ethnicity as an instrument for maintaining group cohesion and competing with others over the control of territory and economic resources. Being the subjective construction that it is, ethnic identity can also be based on inherited traits (language, religion, territory, origin awareness), but above all, it is defined by the self-​recognition of a group in * Research projects: ‘Ethnic Identities in Southern Spain: Rise and Evolution in Antiquity (7th-2nd centuries BCE)’ (hum 03482), and ‘Estímnides Route: Mediterranean Trade and Interculturalism in Northwestern Iberia’ (HAR2015–​68310). Abbreviations: tha 2A = Mangas Manjarrés, J., D. Plácido (eds.), 1998. La Península Ibérica en los autores griegos: de Homero a Platón. Testimonia Hispaniae Antiqua (THA 2A). Madrid. tha 2B = Mangas Manjarrés, J., D. Plácido (eds.), 1999. La Península Ibérica prerromana, de Éforo a Eustacio. Testimonia Hispaniae Antiqua (THA 2B). Madrid. 1 Fernández Götz 2008, 108–​116. 2 In Iberia: López Castro 2004; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar and Ferrer Albelda 2009; Álvarez Martí-​ Aguilar 2012a, 2012b. In the central Mediterranean: Prag 2006; Quinn 2012. In the Near East, from a Graeco-​Roman perspective: Bohak 2002, 2005. 3 Hall 1997, 1998, 2002; Siapkas 2003; Cardete del Olmo 2004, 15–​29. 4 Ferrer Albelda and Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2009; Ferrer Albelda 2010a, 2011a.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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contrast to others. Logically, it is not a static phenomenon, but rather a dynamic one, a process in which community identity values are constantly evolving due to internal and/​or external stimuli.5 Likewise, in line with S. James, ethnicity is a cultural construction, which does not necessarily coincide with the actual history of communities and their individuals, but with what these believe about their origin and identity. Various ethnic identities may coexist inside a same group or individual, that is, identity may be multifaceted, and apparent cultural similarities do not imply shared identities, as happened among the Greeks and Phoenicians. Finally, ethnic groups base their legitimacy on claims to common, historical roots, be they real, legendary or imaginary.6 The proposal presented here for the ethnicity of the Punic communities of Iberia is based on a dual analysis, involving the two main sources for knowledge on the subject: the first, external to the community (exoethnic or etic perspective), is comprised by Greek and Latin testimonies, providing information on names, origins and genealogies, forms of socio-​political organization and religious aspects; the second source is vernacular, comprising cultural products preserved in the archaeological record which presumably hold relevance for identity, such as language, alphabet, funerary rites, places of worship, or territorial structure.7 2 The Etic Perspective: An Ethnic Puzzle in Greek Literary Sources (1) The first issue to be raised is whether these communities assigned one or more than one name to their groups and if these coincided with the name which others called them by. This is where much of the problem lies because there are no references as to how they named themselves. The terms ‘Phoenician’ and ‘Punic’ were not vernacular, but terms used by the Greeks (Phoïnix, phoenices), from which the Latin name Poenus (poeni in plural) and its adjective poenicus (or punicus) derived.8 We do not know how they identified themselves as a community; if they ever assigned themselves a cohesive ethnic name, it might have been Canaanite (chanaani), since this was how the dwellers of Tunisian Sahel distinguished themselves from the Christians in times of Augustine of Hippo (Ad Rom. 13), although the identification between Canaanites and 5 6 7 8

García Fernández 2007, passim; Ferrer Albelda 2010a, 70. James 1999, 76–​7; Fernández Götz 2008, 110. Ferrer Albelda 2011a, pl. 1. Bunnens 1983: 235–​7. Also Moscati 1983, 13; 1988; López Castro 1992c; Costa Rivas and Fernández 1991; Ferrer Albelda 2011a, 199.

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Phoenicians appeared later in time, with no proven connection between the two terms.9 The problem is enhanced by the sometimes indiscriminate use, by Greeks and Romans, of both ethnonyms, along with a third name, Carthaginians (karchedonioi), although also by the use these terms are given by modern historians, who mix ethnic, political and chronological aspects, generating vocabulary which was never used by any group at the time, such as the term ‘western Phoenicians’.10 Greek speakers used the term ‘Phoenician’ with an ethnic meaning, referring to a people, while the term ‘Carthaginian’ was used for political contexts, when referring to the inhabitants of the north-​African city. Hence, the Carthaginians were considered part of the Phoenicians, as were the inhabitants of other cities, such as Tyre, Sidon and Ebusus (Diod. Sic. 5.16.3). On the other hand, Latin speakers employed three ethnic terms:  Phoenix, Poenus and Karchedonioi. Poenus (and its derivatives poenicus or punicus), a term of Greek origin, is the oldest form, a synonym for Phoenician. Nevertheless, when Rome first encountered Carthage, the term Phoenix was favoured to distinguish the inhabitants of Phoenicia from the Poeni, their north-​African counterparts. It was not however a strict norm, as evidenced in Varro (Ling. 8.23; 8.36), who used Poenicum as an equivalent of Phoenician; or Cicero, for whom Poeni was also a synonym of Phoenicum (Scaur. 19).11 Greek and Latin speakers did not question the existence of a common identity: Strabo (3.2.14) established an ethnic continuity between Phoenician settlers in Iberia and the Carthaginian empire, while Pliny (nh 3.8) defended M. Agrippa’s idea that the Iberian coastline originally belonged to the Punic.12 However, the ethnic terminology problem is enhanced when considering that the ethnonyms ‘Phoenician’ and ‘Punic’, ascribed to Iberia, were used on very few occasions (Hdt. 4.42) in Greek literature before the Roman conquest,13 because other ethnonyms were used to identify the inhabitants of territories settled by the Phoenicians. Greek sailors and merchants frequented the Iberian coast during the seventh and sixth centuries bce, which allowed for the elaboration of a very schematic geo-​ethnographic map of Iberia, the Periodos gês of Hecateaus of Miletus, dated towards 500 bce. Some vestiges remain

9 10 11 12 13

Bunnens 1992, 87. López Castro 2004, 147–​67. Bunnens 1983, 237. Ferrer Albelda 2011a, 200. Pseudo-Scylax (c. 335 bce), in his Periplus, 1 (tha 2B, 61a) states ‘… past the Pillars of Herakles in Europe are many trading-​towns of the Karchedonioi …’ (transl. G. Shipley). On the particulars, see Ferrer Albelda 2008b, 63.

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from this Periêgêsis, contained in later works, which offer an approximate idea of the image held of the far west at the end of the Archaic period. Paradoxically, there are no references to Phoenicians in it, but rather to other communities and cities of the southern and eastern Iberian coastline: Tartessians, Elbestii, Mastieni and Iberians, and further west, the Cynetes of present-​day Algarve.14 This ethnic map lasted up to the Roman conquest, although some traces may be found in later works, such as the Ora Maritima of Avienus (fourth century ce).15 It may be argued, nevertheless, that this first ethnic division of Iberia’s southern coastline did not follow anthropological criteria, that is, it was not based on cultural traits (race, language, religion, etc.), but rather on geographical criteria: it referred to the inhabitants of the regions known as Tartessus,16 Mastia (or Massia)17 and Iberia. The first two were local choronyms, while the last one was Greek, a name borrowed from the eastern-​most point of the oecumene, which created a concomitant relation between both regions.18 The criteria followed, therefore, are coherent with those of sailors and merchants, who visualized, described and divided the coastline according to geographical landmarks along the route. Hence, the southern coast of the Peninsula was compartmentalized from west to east in four large areas: that of the Cynetes (Hdt. 2.33; 4.49),19 extending from Cape St. Vincent to the mouth of the Guadiana River; Tartessus, from this river to the Pillars of Heracles; Mastia, from the Strait of Gibraltar to an intermediate point along the southern coast (Cape Palos?); and Iberia, which stretched up to the Gulf of Lion (Figure 5.1).20 This ethnic division did not bear any anthropological or cultural meaning for these communities, although other literary sources and archaeological evidence may shed some light on their ethnic components. From other data extracted from Hecateaus, we know that there existed Mastian póleis which 14 15 16

17 18 19 20

In Herodotus (2.33; 4.49) and Herodorus (Const. Porph. Adm. Imp 23.8), both from the fifth century ce. The latter appears to replicate the ethnic division of Hecateaus of Miletus. O. Mar. vv. 419–​24. Tartessus was defined as a territory located to the west of the Strait of Gibraltar, washed by the river of the same name. It is also mentioned as Tartessia (Hecataeus fr. 45 Nenci, tha 2A, 23i), Tartesside (Eratosthenes, in Strab. 3.2.11) and sinus Tartesii (Avien. O. Mar. v. 265): Ferrer Albelda 2012a, 60. On the location of Mastia: García Moreno 1993; Koch 2003 [1984]; Moret 2002; Ferrer Albelda 2006d, 2008. Domínguez Monedero 1983; Cruz Andreotti 2002. The later evolution of the ethnonym (Conii, Cynetes) was etymologically related by Strabo (3.1.4) to the wedge-​like shape of the territory: Cruz Andreotti 20152g, 370–​2. Ferrer Albelda 2011a, 204.

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Figure 5.1 Sectorization of ethnic groups in southern Iberia towards 500 bce, according to data provided by Hecataeus of Miletus drawings by e. ferrer albelda.

retained their names until the Roman period and are easily identified with current locations: Sualis-​Suel–​Fuengirola, Sixo-​Sexi–​Almuñécar and Menobora-​ Maenoba–​Torre del Mar. All three cases were Phoenician settlements. Likewise, later authors identified Tartessus as one of the names for Gades (among others, Sall. Hist. 2.5; Plin. hn 4.120; Avien. O. Mar. v. 85) or Carteia (Mela 2.96; Plin. hn 3.8.17), both cities of Phoenician origin. They also identified the Tartessian Argantonius as coming from Gades (among others, Cic. De sen. 19.69; Plin. hn 7.156) and the Gaditanian Balbus as a Tartessian,21 evidence which supports the Phoenician identity of Tartessian populations.22 When compared to the archaeological record, which testifies to the Phoenician colonization of the Iberian coastline from Portugal to the river Segura (Alicante) from the ninth century bce onwards, it becomes clear that Cynetes, Tartessians and Mastians had a strong Phoenician component, which was culturally mixed, depending on different colonizing experiences, the region and the context (urban or rural settings). In other words, each ethne incorporated communities of diverse cultural origins, although predominantly Phoenician.

21 22

Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2007, 477–​92. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2009, 79–​111; 2010, 395–​406; 2013; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar and Ferrer Albelda 2009; Ferrer Albelda and Prados 2013.

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Phoenicians and Ethnic Divisions during the Imperial Period: The Etic Perspective (2)

Although the existence of a strong Phoenician demographic presence in Roman Hispania is undisputed, there are still contradictions. Strabo (3.2.13), for example, wrote on the genealogy of the Phoenician colonization of western Iberia from the perspective offered by the booming Gades; he mentions a significant demographic presence of Phoenicians in Turdetania (second and first centuries bce) and establishes the ethnic continuity between Phoenician colonizers and Carthaginian conquerors.23 Nevertheless, he does not mention a specific Phoenician ethnic community or the existence of ethnic frontiers with the Turdetani or Iberians. Pliny (hn 3.8) also comments that the southern coast of Hispania belonged to the Punic, although he does not identify them with any of the communities in his Naturalis historia. It is odd for the names ‘Phoenician’ and ‘Punic’ to be virtually absent from the ethnic divisions transmitted by Strabo, Pliny, Mela, Ptolemy and Marcian of Heraclea (2.9), while, paradoxically, the communities inhabiting the coast of today’s Andalusia were called Bastuli, Turdetani and Turduli. The new ethnic groups of the Roman period differed from the Greek. The latter distributed the Phoenicians among the Cynetes, Tartessians and Mastians, according to geographical and not cultural criteria. In the new division, the Bastuli were identified with the Phoenicians, as evidenced by mixed names such as Blasto-​Phoenicians (App. Hisp. 6) and Blasto-​Punic (Marcian. 2.9). These names could refer to cities or communities, made up of a mix of local populations and Phoenicians, as has always been understood, but they could also constitute ethnic names, with remote chorographic origins, yet actually used as equivalents for ‘Phoenician-​Punic’, as clearly evidenced in Ptolemy (2.4.6), when referring to the ‘Bastuli who are also called Phoenicians’. The most straightforward explanation is that the Bastuli did not only originate from the ancient Mastian region, since they shared with the Turduli the western coast of Baetica (Mela 2.3; Plin. hn 3.8), the ancient Tartessus. Furthermore, in the new Roman provincial order, the Bastuli were not recognized as an ethnic-​administrative territory, but were incorporated into Turdetania, as part of Hispania Ulterior, and after Augustus, as part of Baetica and the Gaditanian 23

The geographer from Amaseia arrived at this conclusion after reviewing autoptic sources (Polybius, Posidonius, Artemidorus, Asclepiades) from the second and beginning of the first centuries bce, at a time when everything ‘Phoenician’ was being revalued throughout the Mediterranean, and particularly in Hispania, as a civilized precedent to ‘romanization’.

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conventus, although a western sector was ascribed to Citerior and later became part of Tarraconense and the conventus carthaginensis. This ethnic puzzle can be solved by reviewing the genesis of these ethnonyms, studying the changes introduced by the Roman conquest, and considering the autoptic character of evidence transmitted by authors, such as Polybius, Posidonius, Artemidorus or Cato. After the Second Punic War, ethnonyms and place names were transformed into Greek and Latin names, so that new terms referred to the same space and its inhabitants.24 The Roman conquest led to a gradual reconnaissance of Hispania’s geography, resources and communities. The spaces described and measured were no longer limited to the coastline, but covered the entire Peninsula. Description gained in extension, but not in detail. Geographers, such as Strabo or the great compiler Pliny, preferred to offer a summarized and orderly image of the human populations, grouping them in large ethnic aggregates. The intention was to offer the reader a simplified and ordered vision –​with administrative needs in mind –​of an ethnic reality which was enormously complex.25 Criteria for aggregation were not univocal. To the south, the Bastuli and Conii were integrated in large multi-​ethnic areas, Turdetania and Lusitania, respectively. The Bastuli, or the Phoenicians, were not given their own political space, despite having a certain geographical coherence  –​they occupied the land strip between the Penibaetic Mountains and the Mediterranean Sea. The Romans never intended to keep the previous ethnic and territorial organization, much to the contrary, as seen in the case of Turdetania. Local populations were not conscious of belonging to this new region and did not relate to its creation; nevertheless, new identities could have been created which were previously non-​existent, as happened in Celtiberia. Another important factor to take into consideration is that the Phoenicians never constituted an ethnic or political entity, but were spread out in multiple, independent city-​states with identities of their own, expressed in terms of self-​recognized citizenship. In sum, southern Iberia-​Hispania was a 500-​year palimpsest of phases; and different criteria were used in the assignation of ethnonyms –​which were always exogenous to the populations described. Cynetes, Tartessians and Mastians were given their names by the regions they inhabited, although they all shared to varying degrees a Phoenician ethnic and cultural component. After the Roman conquest, geography gave way to ethnic criteria. Bastuli were identified with Phoenician-​Punic at a time when a genealogy, or a sort of eulogy, 24 25

For example, Mastians/​Bastuli, Tartessians/​Turdetani and Cynetes/​Conii:  Koch 2003 [1984]; García Moreno 1989; García Fernández 2002a; 2003, 179–​182. García Fernández 2003, 2007; Ferrer Albelda 2011a, 197–​9.

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was being created for Phoenician colonization.26 It was then, and not before, that the terms ‘Phoenician’ and ‘Punic’, which were largely interchangeable, began to be commonly used, as a testimony of the significance and impact of Phoenician colonization on the history and ethnic configuration of the southern population of Hispania. In Late Antiquity (fourth-​fifth centuries ce) a new phenomenon took place, which may be attributed to the influence of Graeco-​Roman literature: Avienus revived the oldest known ethnic classification, created 900  years before his time, while Marcian of Heraclea, after consulting Ptolemy, rewrote an anachronic periplus, including ethnonyms of the Late Hellenistic period. There is, however, an anomaly in this ethnic representation: the presence of Lybian Phoenicians in Iberia, introduced by two authors in Roman times, Pseudo-​Scymnus (Orb. Des. 196–​200), of the first century bce, and Avienus (O. Mar. vv. 419–​424), of the fourth century ce. The influence exerted on Spanish literature has been inversely proportional to the quality and reliability of such sources for the knowledge of ethnicity in Hispania. The origin of the problem lies in the identification, since the nineteenth century, of the Lybian Phoenicians with certain Neo-​Punic mints in southern Iberia, as well as in a lack of critical readings of the literary evidence. Both texts have led to extremely disparate interpretations. Some conceive of the Lybian Phoencians as settlers from Carthage occupying Andalusia’s Mediterranean coastline from the sixth century bce onwards with the intention of repopulating ancient Phoenician settlements, identified with the Bastuli and Blasto-​Phoenicians.27 Others interpret them as populations of north-​African origin, mostly Numidians, who were transported to Iberia during the Second Punic War, settling in scarcely populated areas of Lusitania.28 Aside from these two references, Lybian Phoenicians are mentioned on two other occasions in relation to Iberia, though this is in their original context, the Second Punic War, as part of Hannibal’s deportation and displacement of troops policy. This measure was intended to avoid revolts and only chosen members of social significance were retained as hostages; this policy was enforced on both sides of the Strait of Gibraltar. Polybius (3.33.14–​16) and Livy (21.22.2–​3) offer similar numbers, with very few variations, for multi-​ethnic contingents of mercenaries transported from Africa and other parts of the

26 27 28

Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012b, passim. García Bellido 1942, 53–​5; de Frutos 1991, 111; Marín Ceballos 1996, 40; Blázquez Martínez 1991, 117; Bendala Galán 1987, 125; 2000b, 114; López Castro 1992b, passim. García Bellido 1993, 131; Domínguez Monedero 1995, 238–​9.

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western Mediterranean to the Iberian Peninsula, including 450 Lybian Phoenicians and Africans. The ethnic maps elaborated by Pseudo-​Scymnus and Avienus did not result from research or geo-​ethnographic speculations of past realities, not even of contemporary contexts. Both works share common formal and contextual elements, such as their incorporation into versed texts, which in appearance adopted the structure of a periplus, although changes in route directions and their repeated excursus, among other criteria, disqualify them as such; they are rather, scholarly poems motivated by educational and antiquarian aims. Even though both sources were written extremely late in time for the contexts they presumably describe, the antiquity attributed to these events is solely and exclusively based on the assumed sources of Pseudo-​Scymnus (Ephorus) and Avienus (an archaic anonymous periplus from Massilia). Neither case reproduces a credible cartography, laden as they are with numerous adulterations, as evidenced when compared to information extracted from other authors, such as Hecataeus, Herodorus, Theopompus and Polybius.29 4

Cities as Symbols of Identity

One of the most transcendental contributions of Phoenician colonization to the Iberian Peninsula was the importation of the near-​eastern socio-​political model, which differed greatly from local traditions:  the city-​state. In time, the city-​state became the main element in the creation of identities, both ab ­intra –​among the Phoenician communities themselves –​and ab extra –​ contrasting strongly with other political forms among the Turdetani, Iberians and Celts, who organized themselves as simple or complex chiefdoms, tribal aristocracies, etc. Graeco-​Roman texts used Greek and Latin words (póleis, oppida) to express Phoenician urban realities, but also to describe place names of diverse origin –​ Indo-​Europan, Greek, Phoenician and Iberian. There is also evidence for place names on coin legends; this means Hispano-​Phoenician place names may be analysed from both perspectives, etic and emic. However, despite the relative abundance of data, it is perceivable that Phoenician colonization did not leave a profound mark on place names in Iberia, even in places inhabited by Phoenicians for centuries. This was not because they were not demographically significant or culturally predominant, rather because the mechanisms involved

29

Ferrer Albelda 2000, passim.

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in the creation, transmission and consolidation of place names follow certain rules that did not favour the creation or maintenance of Phoenician place names. The most convincing explanation is offered by J.  Sanmartín,30 who stresses the conservative nature of place names, which are extremely resistant to change and are only permeable to certain modifications of the linguistic adstratum in their adaptation to new users, such as the Romans. Therefore, Phoenician place names are generally recorded for previously uninhabited areas or ex novo foundations, such as Cádiz (Gadir), Cartagena (Qart Hadast) or Mahón (Magon). There is no consensus in literary critique as to what place names are Phoenician or apocryphal. Depending on the author, Gadir (gdr, Cádiz), means ‘wall’ or ‘island’; Cartago Nova (qrthdst, Cartagena), ‘new city’; Ebusus (ybsm, Ibiza), according to some means ‘island of fragrances’ or ‘of pines’, or ‘island of Bes’, or on the contrary, a pseudo-​Punic place name adapted from indigenous roots, which adapted to the Punic linguistic structure; Magon (mgn, Mahón, Menorca), in Latin Portus Magonis, came from the Punic proper name Magon or was contaminated from a root word meaning ‘place of refuge’; finally, Carteia either means ‘city’ (qart-​) or derives from the name of the Phoenician god Melqart (mlqrt), a hypothesis which is supported by the Greek place name for the city, Heraclea. Other place names could be convincingly included in this group, particularly four cases beginning in /​Cart-​/​: Cartalia, the hypothetical name of Sagunto (Qart-​Aliya); the island Cartare (Avien. O. Mar. v. 255), identified by some as Saltés (Huelva); Cartaya (Huelva); and Cartima (Cártama, Málaga), perhaps ‘city over the sea’ (*qrtm).31 The place name Hispalis (Seville) could also originate from the Phoenician *Spal or *Ispal, derived from the maritime term ‘y (peninsula, island, coast) and the theonym Baal.32 Likewise, Ioza (Iulia Ioza or Iulia Transducta, Algeciras, Cádiz),33 as indicated by its Latin name, refers to a population which was moved, in this case from north-​Africa in the time of Augustus. The etic perspective allows for inquiry into other aspects of civic identity. In a well-​known passage by Strabo (3.5.5) narrating the foundation of Gades after two failed oracles for Onuba and Sexi, the geographer from Amaseia appears to be narrating the Gaditanian version, which eventually prevailed, awarding 30 31 32 33

Sanmartín 1994, 239. Ferrer Albelda 2011a, 201. On the Phoenician origin of the place name Hispalis: Díaz Tejera 1982, 15–​20; Lipinski 1984; Correa 2000, passim. Ferrer Albelda 2012a, 64.

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pre-​eminence in the Phoenician colonization of the Iberian Peninsula to Gades and the sanctuary of Melqart. Strabo’s testimony reflects the competition existing between the three Phoenician foundations of the Archaic period, as reproduced in a scholarly context of Late Hellenistic times, which was substantially preoccupied by the antiquity and genealogy of cities. Another text, from Pliny (nh 19.63), refers to the controversy between Lixus and Gades over the antiquity of their respective Melqart sanctuaries, not only as part of an intellectual debate, but also as a political one, since the ancient Phoenician colonies were redefining their identities, primarily among themselves, and not in terms of their new patron, Rome. In this process of identity reconfiguration, the prevailing version represented the interests and desires of the island city, which constituted a projection of contemporary elite values of Republican Gades into the past.34 On the other hand, the political system of Punic city-​states was largely inherited from the Phoenician, in terms of institutional and governmental structure, although they were not monarchies, but republics governed by oligarchies and aristocracies, with democratization tendencies appearing throughout their history. Senate, eponymous sufetes and a popular assembly, were the three institutions, which balanced power in the city-​states. City and territory were two constituent elements of community identity among these structures of power, although they are difficult to analyse in terms of literary evidence, which leaves the archaeological record as the main source of data. The best-​known archaeological period is precisely the one in which this model was being incorporated into Roman culture. Although most city-​states of the Roman period could be reflecting a fossilization of previous territorial structures, their existence and survival prior to the Roman conquest cannot be automatically inferred, since many city-​states emerged and were configured as urban entities, following political and demographical intervention by Rome in strategic territories. Some cases illustrate this process. In 171 bce, Rome founded the first Latin colony outside Italy, Colonia Libertinorum Carteia, on a pre-​existing Punic city, which was repopulated with the descendants of Roman soldiers and Hispanic women (Livy 43.3). The Bay of Gibraltar was vital for the control of the Strait, leading to a second foundation, this time ex novo, of Iulia Traducta (probably the Iulia Ioza mentioned by Strabo and the Tingentera of Mela). It was populated with contingents of Roman veterans and inhabitants from two cities on the African shore of the Strait, Tingis and Iulia Constantia Zilis (Strab. 3.1.8). It seems that the creation of a

34

Bunnens 1979; Aubet 1994; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar and Ferrer Albelda 2009.

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new city in the Bay was motivated by Augustus’ mistrust towards Carteia after the city’s participation in the civil war on Pompey’s side.35 A second example is Baelo. The Roman city was located on the coastline, on a plain, but only since Augustus. The pre-​Roman oppidum, which minted coinage with Neo-​Punic legends between the second half of the second and first centuries bce, was presumably located inland, at Silla del Papa (Tarifa, Cádiz). This example coincides with the Roman settlement pattern for the Strait of Gibraltar. The Romans relocated the population on the plain, promoting the fish industry in a privileged location for fish farms and epipelagic species migration.36 A third case is documented in a different geographic area, in the estuary of the Baetis. The most important city in the area was Hasta Regia, the political centre of a wide territory, which dominated other populations, such as Turris Lascutana, identified –​not without debate –​with another city, which coined with Neo-​Punic signs (Lascuta). The Lascutani were liberated from slavery by a decree issued by the proconsul Aemilius Paulus, inscribed in bronze, dated to 189 bce. This action took place shortly after the expulsion of the Carthaginians (206 bce), which substantially altered the legal status of the city and its territory, for both the oppidum and its ager passed to the hands of the Senate and People of Rome.37 There are additional reasons to treat extrapolations from Roman geographical data with caution. For example, the majority of Bastuli-​Phoenician cities, with the exception of Gadir, were stipendiary, that is, they had been dispossessed of their lands and goods through a deditio. Furthermore, Roman interventionist policies were also felt in certain areas, such as the Bay of Gibraltar. The assimilation of Roman ways of life was gradual and prolonged in time. The adaptation of indigenous institutional mechanisms was both formal and structural, although full integration was still incomplete in times of Augustus. The integration process was not unilinear or synchronic. Due to the lack of unity between Phoenician communities, they all responded differently to Rome’s measures. For example, during the first decades after Roman conquest, several populations from Turdetania rose up against the abuses of Roman administration. In 199 bce, Gades sent an embassy to Rome to petition for an end to these abuses. In 197 bce, at least two of these cities, Sexi and Malaka, revolted, together with certain communities of Baeturia and the reguli Culchas and 35 36 37

Ferrer Albelda 2012a, 64–​5. Moret et al. 2010, 441. On this decree, Mangas Manjarrés 1977, 151–​161; García Moreno 1986, 195–​218; López Castro 1994b, 345–​364; Hidalgo de la Vega 1989, 59–​65.

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Luxinius, the latter of which controlled Carmo and Bardo. Likewise, in 195 bce, Cato led a campaign in Ulterior against the Turduli, who had hired Celtiberian mercenaries, which ended in the prohibition against minting silver. This was a very effective measure to avoid rebellions in a region abundant in this metal. A few years later, in 189 bce, the consul Aemilius Paulus diminished the power of one of Turdetania’s most importat cities, Asta, by liberating the serui of Turris Lascutana, dispossessing the city of its territory. Until the campaigns of T. Sempronius Gracchus in 180–​179 bce, there was no lasting peace in this part of the province.38 This phenomenon of identity multiplicity among Phoenician communities in Hispania must have been a consequence of a double process of self-​ affirmation. They needed to reaffirm their identities towards Rome, but also among themselves. In order to do so, they re-​elaborated their own history, with the implication of their urban elites and probably of their most prestigious sanctuaries. The memory of Gades, transmitted by visitors such as Posidonius, Artemidorus and Asclepiades, through Strabo, is the only historical narration to have partially survived in literary sources. It survived because it was the favoured city in the new political framework imposed by Rome, a circumstance which did not impede it from preserving its idiosyncrasy and autonomy until the Imperial period. 5

The Archaeological Record: An Emic Perspective (1)

The eastern Phoenician communities transmitted their centenary literary tradition and graphic culture throughout their Mediterranean diaspora. Nevertheless, this enormous cultural heritage was also completely lost. This affects the methodology applied in the historical reconstruction of these populations, since there are barely any vernacular written sources, only a meagre collection of Latin and Greek texts –​largely disconnected and belonging to later periods. However, there is a large amount of archaeological data, which in some cases must still be processed and studied. The archaeological record constitutes a corpus of vernacular data, comprising material culture produced and/​or consumed by these communities and preserved in the archaeological record uncovered in the last 120 years, either through casual finds or systematic excavation. Unlike literary evidence, it is (virtually) unlimited, incorporating new data continuously, although

38

Ferrer Albelda 2012b, 680.

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archaeological evidence is not by any means free of interpretative debate. One of the most important questions concerning archaeological data is the assignation of material culture as ‘Punic’, an ethnic and cultural category created by scholars and probably not recognized by the populations under study. Archaeological research tells another story, which is closer to longue durée historical processes than to historical figures and events. It is able to generate a different image for societies without written or preserved memory, particularly for those aspects which are silent in historical texts: religious and funerary customs, settlement types, population distribution, economic exploitation of a territory, consumption patterns, commerce, crafts, demographical data, etc. Of all of these, religious manifestations, whether funerary or cult related, hold the most potential for finding expressions of cultural identity, and in some cases, also expressions of a community’s ethnic identity. For example, burial contexts of colonial and Punic periods present significant differences. Colonial period burials were not part of cemeteries per se; graves were grouped around the burials of distinguished members of the colonial aristocracy (Trayamar, Laurita, Casa de la Viña, Lagos). On the other hand, Punic burial sites (Cádiz, Málaga, Jardín, Puente de Noy, Villaricos, Puig des Molins) were actual cemeteries. Funerary spaces were not improvised, but bounded and separated from living quarters, probably subject to urban regulations on property and land use. A great number of people were buried here, a privilege which was probably only enjoyed by citizens and not by other residents. Punic cemeteries allow for manifold readings on identity in terms of the local community, but also in terms of others, by comparing cemeteries with similar cultural identities, and even by comparing different burial traditions in neighbouring communities. The ‘Turdetani’ and the Iberians, for example, are easily distinguished from each other because the former lacked cemeteries. However, there are other elements which may also be used to compare funerary traditions, such as burial space planning, grave typology, funerary rites, grave goods or population burial percentages. The comparison of Punic cemeteries in Iberia evidences uniformity in the choice of inhumations, but diversity in all other aspects, particularly grave goods, indicating that popular tradition placed value on expressing identity.39 On the other hand, the Phoenician pantheon and cult expressions may also be analysed from etic and emic perspectives: literary evidence mentions mostly sanctuaries dedicated to the Tyrian Heracles, the Phoenician Melqart, and to a lesser degree, places consecrated to Phoenician divinities coated with Greek

39

Ferrer Albelda 2010.

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and Roman names. All this information must be analysed from a classical interpretatio of the Phoenician gods40 and in some cases, it may also be contrasted with the archaeological record.41 In Phoenician and Greek culture, each community was protected by a deity, or a pair of gods, which were not only symbols but also metaphors for the community. Urban sanctuaries and coins with representations of divinities are the main sources for analysing Phoenician identities. Religious places related to navigation (La Algaida, Punta del Nao, Gorham’s Cave, Peñón de Salobreña) seem to indicate homogeneity in location and function and show similarities in the patterns of votive deposition, beginning in the Archaic period and lasting through the second and first centuries bce.42 However, other urban sanctuaries represented the main signs of identity for these communities, surviving in time and adapting to the new Roman socio-​political and religious superstructures. The sanctuary of Melqart in Gadir is the best-​known example, but there is also archaeological or literary evidence for urban sanctuaries to Melqart or Astarte in Malaca,43 Carteia44 and Baria,45 as well as frontier sanctuaries, delimitating urban space, in Cerro de la Tortuga (Malaca) and Mijas (Suel). Melqart and Astarte were important in the Hispano-​Phoenician pantheon, but they were not the only patron gods of Punic cities: Bes, Chusor-​Ptah, Shamash, and Tanit, among others, were tutelary deities or were worshiped in cities such as Ebusus, Malaca and Baria, evidencing once more the existence of multiple identities. In sum, cult played an important role in the self-​definition of these communities and in their differentiation in relation to others.46 The leading role played by Melqart in the literary sources and the many representations of this god in Punic coinage have been used recently as arguments in favour of proposing the cult to the tutelary deities of Tyre, Melqart and Astarte as one of the main cultural traits of a ‘western Phoenician’ identity, a key element in the ideological and political legitimacy of these colonial foundations that creates a fundamental distinction between ‘western Phoenicians’ and Carthage.47 For this approach, the most explicit expression of their

40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47

Ribichini 1985, 139. For example, the sanctuaries of La Algaida and Gorham’s Cave: Ferrer Albelda 2002, 2014; Marín Ceballos 2010. Ferrer Albelda 2002, 2014. López Castro and Mora Serrano 2002, 188. Roldán Gómez et al. 1998, 182; Roldán Gómez et al. 2006, 311–​7. López Castro 2005, 6. Ferrer Albelda 2014, passim. Arteaga 1994; López Castro 2004, 161; Domínguez Pérez 2006.

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self-​recognition is the predominance of these tutelary deities from Tyre over the patron gods of Carthage, Baal Hammon and Tanit.48 Tyre was the driving force behind the Phoenician diaspora in the Mediterranean and the sanctuaries to Melqart in the Circle of the Strait (Gadir, Lixus) may very well be understood as filial sanctuaries of the one in Tyre.49 However, viewing the cults to Melqart and Astarte as criteria supporting ethnic divisions between ‘western Phoenicians’ and Carthaginians ends in a paradox, since there is reliable proof for the filial relationship existing between the mother city and the north-​African colony until its destruction in 146 bce. These links were represented in various forms, the best known of which were the annual sacrifices offered by a Carthaginian embassy at the temple of Melqart in Tyre (Quintus Curtius 4.2.10) and the annual payment of the tithe on the rents of the city in the same sanctuary (Diod. Sic. 20.14; Polyb. 31.12).50 Likewise, the political expression of this link, which could explain the presence of the Tyrians in the second Roman-​Carthaginian treaty, is ratified by alliances in case of aggression by third parties.51 As recalled by S. Lancel, in no other site are these links recorded as clearly; so much so that it is not even necessary to recall the numerous literary sources (Diod. Sic. 17.40; ­Strab. 17.3.15; Livy 33.49) asserting that Carthage had been officially founded as a Tyrian colony.52 Epigraphic evidence supports the existence of a temple to Melqart in Carthage, as well as another one dedicated to Milkashtart, a compound name revealing a joint cult to Melqart and Astarte.53 Evidence also shows that the theophoric name Melqart is the base for twenty-​five recorded names, for which there is ample evidence;54 and the frequency of the name Astarte, the third most represented after Baal and Melqart, contrasts with the absence of Tanit. While in the east, Astarte played a dynastic role, in the west she was associated with the city and its religion, representing the protection of the faithful, fertility, health, navigation, war, and ­eschatological aspects.55

48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

López Castro 2004, 161; Domínguez Pérez 2006, 157–​8. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a, 21–​40. Other references on the ties between both cities in Lancel 1994; Marín Ceballos 1999; Ferrer Albelda 2006; 2010. Huss 1993, 113; Ferrer Albelda 2006, 271, n. 9. Lancel 1994, 46–​7. Marín Ceballos 1999, 66–​7. Bonnet 1986. Marín Ceballos 1999, 68–​70.

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6 The Emic Perspective (2): Language and Alphabet Strabo’s reference to the large number of Phoenicians living in the majority of Turdetania’s cities and neighbouring regions raises questions as to the ethnographic criteria used by Strabo’s informants to distinguish these groups from others and the mechanisms of self-​representation used by the Phoenicians to differentiate themselves from the other ethnic groups. Of the archaeological evidence available, coins and inscriptions must be dealt with separately, due to their specific characteristics and the specialization of their study. Coinage is usually analysed as epigraphic evidence, since coins generally incorporate legends and place names, and on occasion formulaic expressions identifying the issuing authority. However, they are also sources of information for the economy of these communities, their relationships with other states (Carthage, Rome), identity symbols, metrology, and coin circulation. The only problem is that coinage was adopted by the Punic cities in Iberia at a relatively late stage: the earliest mints (Gadir, Ebusus) are recorded at the beginning of the third century bce, and the majority after the Second Punic War, under Roman administration.56 Coins hold great potential for extracting data on ethnic and political identities because they unite diverse types of information. They were official documents and therefore represented the issuing community. Hence, coin types, metrology, language and inscriptions were not chosen randomly –​they were deliberately selected by urban oligarchies or the popular assembly, as seems to be gauged by the expression (mb’l or mp’l).57 However, these data are not significant unless contrasted with other criteria. For example, there are mints that did not use any alphabet, such as Baria, although in terms of typology, metrology and contextual data, its coinage is considered to be Punic. In other cases, the choice of alphabet may have been conditioned by specific political events, as in Carteia, a Punic city, where the foundation of a Roman colony in 171 bce determined the use of Roman types and alphabet, although the majority of the population spoke and wrote Punic.58 The mints of southern Portugal, on the other hand, chose the Latin alphabet due to political and economic reasons, not ethnic. Populations such as Baesuri, Balsa, Ipses and Ossonoba, were closely linked to Gades, so much so that recent studies on these settlements have coined the term ‘gaditanization’, not only in reference to their economies, but also to their demography, a link 56 57 58

A general view: Alfaro Asins 1998, 50–​115. Alfaro Asins 1991, 120; 1998, 63; Mora Serrano 1993, 77, and García Bellido 1993, 125. Chaves Tristán 2008, passim.

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which is identifiable throughout the Roman Republican period.59 Another region with similarities to the Algarve is the estuary of the Baetis, where coin workshops chose Latin, as their communities (Caura, Ilipa) also belonged to the ‘gaditanization’ koiné.60 Other mints which used the Punic or Neo-​Punic alphabet did not belong to the geographical area inhabited by the Bastuli. It may be argued that cities such as Olontigi or Ituci were part of an economic circuit led by Gades and may have adapted to the city’s coinage, regardless of their cultural identity. Nevertheless, the Phoenician substrate of these two settlements should also be considered, traced back to the colonization of the Archaic period, when the transport of metals along the Guadiamar River Basin promoted the foundation of these two towns.61 New examples for the use of the Neo-​Punic alphabet in distant regions from the Bastuli area have been found in Baeturia, belonging to the Turduli (south of Badajoz), and in the mountains of Cádiz, where at least seven mints coined using the Neo-​Punic alphabet, although it was not normalized. A third area of workshops which coined using a normalized Neo-​Punic alphabet was located in the south-​east of Hispania, though inland, belonging to two mints, Alba and Tagilit.62 7

Summary and Conclusions

This paper synthesizes and identifies aspects, criteria and data, which allow for the analysis of cultural and ethnic identities among the Punic communities of Iberia. These do not represent a purely ‘western Phoenician’ ethnic identity, congregated around Gadir, but diverse identities promoted by a strong civic consciousness, which may originate from two sources: Near-​Eastern city-​state traditions and the emergence of early colonies as of the sixth century bce. Sanctuaries, tutelary deities, funerary traditions and urban coinage are key manifestations of a rooted civic identity which attempted to survive political and socio-​economic situations throughout the second half of the second millennium bce, such as the Carthaginian and Roman conquests, phenomena

59 60

61 62

Chic 2004; Sousa and Arruda 2010, 951–​74. The expansion of the Punic language is documented on a piece of slate with accounting inscriptions in Neo-​Punic alphabet found in Ilipa (Alcalá del Río, Seville), dated to the first half of the second century bce: Zamora López 2007, Zamora López et al. 2004, ­passim. Chaves Tristán and García Vargas 1991, 1994. García Bellido and Blázquez Cerrato 2001, 107; Ferrer Albelda 2009, 412.

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which could have broken not only the political autonomy of these communities, but their own identities. Responses were diverse, though always directed towards the preservation of their idiosyncrasies. There must have existed as many identities as self-​recognized, independent communities, for both western and eastern Phoenicians shared important characteristics in this sense: their civic identity, their sense of belonging to a city-​state and their cult to tutelary deities. Epigraphic and literary evidence testify to the existence of ethnic denominations linked to cities (Gaditanians, Asidonians, Sexitanii, Tagilitanii), although the generic name that the Phoenicians of Iberia used to call themselves remains unknown, if there ever existed one. They logically would have recognized a common origin in Canaan, shared by all communities of the colonial diaspora, manifested in their language, alphabet, pantheon, and customs. However, the feeling of sharing a common origin, language and customs also existed among the Greek, and it never implied the existence of a centripetal political tendency. Likewise, the Phoenicians of Iberia never formed an ethnic state, although powerful cities did deploy expansionist and hegemonic policies over other Phoenician cities, as happened with Tyre and Carthage throughout their history. One could even speak of a hierarchy of identities among these populations. At the base lay Canaan, or at least Tyre (the motherland mentioned by foundational myths and stories of Carthage), Utica, Lixus, Gadir, Onuba or Sexi. The second level was territorial, Mastia or Tartessus, which, according to exogenous witnesses, conferred a certain identity (ethnos), although we do not know if such an identity was recognized by its inhabitants. Lastly, there was the civic community, which was the clearest expression of identity, given all the direct references available. Even at a smaller scale, new identities among these communities may have emerged related to social class, which may have been linked to certain signs of distinction (jewellery and ornaments, dress, etc.). The relations between these different levels of identity were dialectic. The feeling of belonging to a common land and ancestors, Canaan or Tyre, may have served, in some cases, to strengthen ties of epicracy among communities of a territory or, in others, between far off lands in times of danger, as in the case of Carthage and Gadir. Nevertheless, in other circumstances, shared identities were never an impediment to the activation of diverse community-​level identities, used as defence mechanisms towards policies that intended to break not only their political autonomy, but also their identity and idiosyncrasy.

Chapter 6

Carthaginians in Turdetania: Carthaginian Presence in Iberia before 237 bce Ruth Pliego Vázquez 1 Introduction Over a decade ago I published a series of Carthaginian coin finds from southern Iberia, which completed the vision provided by two fundamental papers written by L. Villaronga1 and F. Chaves Tristán.2 When published, many of the coins presented in the mentioned papers were unknown or very rare in the numismatic corpus, prior to the widespread use of metal detectors.3 Therefore, the new material had to be interpreted.* The study of the coin finds from El Gandul (Alcalá de Guadaíra, Seville) changed existing interpretations of Carthaginian coinage. From this point onwards, pre-​ Barcid issues, arriving in Iberia before the disembarkation of Hamilcar, have been considered separately from properly Hispano-​Carthaginian issues, minted as of 237 bce. Taking the coinage from El Gandul and other sites, which will be mentioned below, as a representative sample for the south-​west of Iberia, two modes * orcid: 0000-​0003-​2125-​3974 Research group: From Turdetania to Baetica (hum–​152); Research projects: From goldsmiths to minters. The use and ‘abuse’ of metal in Antiquity: from the prestige economy to the market economy (Iberia in the western Mediterranean, 6th-1st century BCE) (har2015–​67113), and ‘Estímnides Route: Mediterranean Trade and Interculturalism in Northwestern Iberia’ (HAR2015–​68310). Abbreviations:  cnh = Villaronga, L.  1994. Corpus Nummum Hispaniae ante Augusti Aetatem. Madrid; igch = Thompson, M., Morkholm, O., and Kraay, C.M., eds. 1973. An Inventory of Greek Coins Hoards. New York; sngCop. = Jenkins, G.J. 1969. Sylloge Nummorum Graecorum. The Royal Collection of Coins and Medals, Danish National Museum, vol. 42 (North Africa, Syrtica-​Mauretania). Munksgaard–​Copennhagen. Key Typologies: sngCop. 94–​98: Male head/​galloping horse. sngCop. 102–​105: Palm tree/​protome. sngCop. 109–​119: Tanit/​horse before palm tree. ­s ngCop. 144–​178: Tanit/​protome. 1 Villaronga 1983. 2 Chaves Tristán 1990. 3 These Hispano-​Carthaginian fractional issues, known colloquially as ‘casquitos’, of which there are now numerous examples, were first ‘presented’ in the publication of the archaeological material recovered from Montemolín (Marchena, Seville) by E. Collantes 1980.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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of territorial ‘occupation’ by Carthage may be identified, as well as two distinct phases: the first is derived from the north-​African power’s military presence, part of the Carthaginian sphere of influence before the Barcid period; and the second was the result of a territorial dominion initiated by Hamilcar in 237 bce. It is not the intention here to repeat aspects already dealt with elsewhere, although it is important to stress that the oldest material extracted from El Gandul, belonging both to hoards and isolated finds, takes us back to the second half of the fourth century bce, according to the chronology accepted by numismatic scholarship. Although most of the material analysed here was recovered from clandestine activities, which may explain the rejection of such early chronologies by some scholars, an increasing body of evidence from archaeological excavations supports now these dates. Many coin groups from this and other time periods, both in Iberia and in other regions, have a similar origin, and for this reason are not excluded from numismatic studies.4 As will be shown below, finds extracted from excavations have not been analysed in detail and have only been published in a general way, without providing data on the stratigraphy in which the different typologies were found.5 While analysis without archaeological context does not provide reliable data, when the material is considered as part of a group in a search for broad lines of interpretation, the results are indisputable. The information on archaeological sites contained in this paper has been carefully contrasted, for published data is often but a small sample of the existing material. Other evidence used was provided by oral testimonies and particularly by the documents found in an important collection preserved at the Archaeological Museum of Seville.6 2

The Central Mediterranean before 237 Bce

Carthage strengthened its hegemony over the west between the first half of the fourth century bce and approximately 300 bce. During this time, Carthage developed a monetary policy, minting a wide spectrum of coinage,7 such that 4 An update on the monetary finds of the Second Punic War in Chaves Tristán and Pliego Vázquez 2015, Chapter 3. 5 An example may be found in the work of C. Alfaro Asins (2000), who compiles all the existing foreign Punic coins without mentioning stratigraphy, where it existed. 6 The Fondo Arqueológico Ricardo Marsal Monzón (farmm) was created by a private collector of the 1990s and early 2000s and includes records associated to the provenance of the finds, as well as plans and drawings of the archaeological sites. Such data must naturally be handled with care, but are useful in showing trends and reinforcing other kinds of evidence. 7 Carthage and other Phoenician cities began coining at a late stage (Jenkins and Lewis 1963). It appears military needs weighed heavier than commercial reasons in the adoption of coinage (Visonà 1995, 170–​1; 1998, 4).

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Figure 6.1 Male head/​horse galloping (SNGCop. 94–​98); 3.90 g., 16 mm.

Figure 6.2 Tanit/​horse before palm tree (sngCop. 109–​119); 2.35 g., 16 mm.

it became the dominant issuing authority, managing and controlling coin production throughout the entire Punic territory.8 The first Carthaginian ‘state’ issues appeared at this point,9 described as ‘supra-​regional’10 due to their 8 9

10

Manfredi 2009, 101. Although the first Punic issues in the west date to the fifth century, belonging to the Sicilian cities of Solus, Motya and Panormos, these are considered to be autonomous civic issues, inscribed in the Greek economic and cultural sphere, which dominated Sicily at the time (Manfredi 2006a: 76). Frey-​Kupper 2006, 31; 2014, 82 ss., 103. According to this author, not even Roman coinage extended so widely until the Late Republic and Early Empire.

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widespread expansion throughout the central and western Mediterranean basin. They included various anepigraphic series in bronze: male head/​galloping horse (sngCop. 94–​98), dated to the first half of the fourth century bce (Figure 6.1),11 as well as palm tree/​protome (sngCop. 102–​105) and Tanit/​horse before palm tree (sngCop. 109–​119) (Figure 6.2), dated between the first half and mid fourth century bce.12 The mint is unknown. Scholarship is divided between Sicily13 and Carthage,14 although the possibility that various workshops simultaneously coined these numerous issues has also been considered.15 This uncertainty surrounding mints and their cities differentiates these coins from those issued in the Greek cities of Sicily, which had a long monetary tradition. Furthermore, it contradicts the opinion of those authors who associate relations between Carthage and other territories with the immediate minting of coinage. As of 300 bce, a heavier series was coined, with the type Tanit/​protome (sngCop. 144–​178), generally attributed to Sardinia,16 although Sicily and Carthage have also been suggested for initial issues of this series, either later transferring to Sardinia17 or being coined simultaneously in different Punic mints18 (Figure  6.3). This last issue was also found in El Gandul and other sites in great quantities, jointly with other series linked to the Sicilian sphere, such as the palm tree/​protome (sngCop. 102–​106), palm tree/​Pegasus (sng Cop. 107–​108) or palm tree/​horse looking back (sngCop. 126–​127), which appear occasionally. 11 12 13 14

15

16 17 18

Tusa Cutroni 1983a, 1983b; Manfredi 1990, 223; Frey-​Kupper 2014, 82. Tusa Cutroni 2000; Manfredi 2008, 1575; Novarese 2006. Recently, Bechtold (2015, 70) has considered a possible relationship between the starting of this emission with the presence of new amphora types in the sphere of Carthaginian influence. Tusa Cutroni 1967, 80–​8; 2000, 473; Buttrey 1978, 143. The attribution of series sngCop. 109–​119 to Sicily appears to be unquestionable (see Frey-​Kupper 2000, 480). Visoná 1985, 672; 2006, 240–​241; Manfredi 2000; 2006b, 273; 2008, 1575. For P. Visonà (1990, 85–​188), Carthage minted sngCop. 94–​98 and sngCop. 102–​105 from the mid-​fourth century to 344–​320 bc, while the series sngCop. 109–​119 is attributed to a Sicilian mint dated between 310–​280 bc, a very late chronology in comparison to the intervals considered by other authors. For S.  Frey-​Kupper (2014, 90), sngCop. 109–​119 was minted in Sicily, sngCop. 94–​97 and 144–​153 could have been minted in Sicily or Carthage, while sngCop. 154–​178 may originate from Sardinia. Acquaro and Manfredi 1989, 24–​28. S. Frey-​Kupper 2000, n. 6, proposes Carthage for the earliest series (sngCop. 94–​98), based on the high density of finds in north Africa, although the author does not rule out the possibility of parallel mints in Carthage and Sicily coining at the same time. Manfredi and Francisi 1996, 37; Manfredi 2006b, 281; 2008, 1575. See Visonà 1992, 121–​132; Frey-​Kupper 2000, 481. Manfredi 2011, 12.

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Figure 6.3 Tanit/​protome (sngCop. 144–​178); 5.53 g., 20 mm.

The widespread distribution of these pieces throughout the entire central and western Mediterranean, contests the generalized stance assuming a local use for these bronze issues, contrary to other issues in noble metals. There are numerous studies on the circulation of these coins19 addressing coin groups and isolated finds: from Sicily,20 Sardinia,21 Malta22 and north Africa;23 as well as from Pantelleria24 and Cala Tramontana, an underwater site near the island;25 the overall picture completed by examples from Etruria.26 It is more complicated to determine the circulation life of these coins. Archaeological contexts from Sicilian sites to date have not been able to shed light on whether these coins remained in circulation for long after the First Punic War,27 although it appears that, at least in Sicily, they did not outlast the mid-​third century bce.28 What seems to be clear is the life span of the three main Punic types (sngCop. 94–​97, 109–​119 and 144–​178), suggesting a direct relationship with the period of Carthaginian occupation. In archaeological 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

For an analysis of the archaeological sites containing these Carthaginian issues, see Frey-​ Kupper 2014, excepting finds from the Iberian Peninsula. Tusa Cutroni 2000; Frey-​Kupper 1999, 2000; 2006; Gandolfo 2000; Puglisi 2005. Polosa 2006, 150; Manfredi 2008. Jenkins 1983; Visoná 1990; Novarese 2006. Manfredi 2008. See Amel 2008, 2011 for Algeria, and Manfredi 2009 for Sabratha. Tusa Cutroni et al. 2006. Tusa Cutroni and Lasi 2012. Domínguez Arranz 2005; Williams 2011. Frey-​Kupper 2003, 534, n. 16; 2006, 33. As in Hippana, Iaitas, Solus, Selinunte and the cemetery of Lilibation; Frey-​Kupper 2006, 33.

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sites of western Sicily dating up to the First Punic War half of all the coin finds belong to the type sngCop. 109–​119, while sngCop. 144–​178 increases in frequency in those cities which resisted Roman incorporation or destruction the longest.29 The iconography depicted on these coins  –​the head of Kore, the horse, the palm tree –​seems to respond to a deliberate Carthaginian policy, aimed at reflecting cultural homogeneity through the generalization and dissemination of these coin types in an area comprising of ‘(at various times) from North Africa to Sicily, Sardinia, Ebusus, the islands between Africa and ­Sicily, Spain …’.30 The distribution of these early Carthaginian coin series shows concentrations in specific points of southern Iberia, supporting Carthaginian presence in Iberian Peninsula before the Barcid period, as discussed at the beginning of the paper. 3

Carthaginian Coin Series of Southern Iberia

The presence of foreign Punic coinage in Iberia, fundamentally of type sngCop. 109–​119 –​the most extended throughout the central Mediterranean31 –​ has been known for a long time (Figure 6.4). The distribution maps by C. ­Alfaro32 are highly descriptive, incorporating practically all the known data to date. However, these coins of the fourth and third centuries bce were almost immediately associated with the Second Punic War, considered to be war or residual coinage from the conflict.33 This interpretation is a result of previous academic contexts, when these coins began to be studied, for the regional repertoire was as unknown as other material from other places in the Mediterranean. However, this position is no longer acceptable. More than thirty years after the first publications, we can now not only interpret finds, including those which were not valued in the past, but also interpret data without archaeological context, which may support conclusions based on stratigraphy. 29 30 31 32

33

Frey-​Kupper 2000, 482; 2006, 32. Frey-​Kupper 2014, 103. In this sense, S. Frey-​Kupper (2000, 481–​482) points out that more than half of the Punic coinage used in western Sicily up to the First Punic War belongs to this type. Alfaro Asins 2000, 27, fig.7; 29, Fig.  11. Finds from other regions in Iberia have not been included, but are equally significant, such as types sngCop. 94–​97, 102–​105, 107–​108 and 109–​119 in Ampurias, Malió (Barcelona), La Balaguera and Sagunto (Valencia), Elche (Alicante), the cemetery of Los Nietos (Murcia), Ibiza, Mallorca, Menorca and Azaila. See Alfaro Asins 2000. Villaronga 1983, 62; Chaves Tristán 1990; Alfaro Asins 2000. 24, 27.

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Figure 6.4 Map of Andalusia showing the distribution of Siculo-​Punic coinage. by r. pliego.

An excellent example is provided by various sites in the current province of Cádiz, one of the areas with the largest representation of foreign Punic coinage found in archaeological contexts. In the sanctuary of La Algaida (Sanlúcar de Barrameda, Cádiz) one sngCop. 94–​97, four sngCop. 109–​119 and one sngCop. 144–​178, were recovered.34 These types have also been recorded in Cortijo de Ébora, also in Sanlúcar de Barrameda.35 C.  Alfaro36 notes that coins found in sanctuaries and burial sites have wide chronologies: in many cases these were obsolete coins, used for symbolic reasons. This same observation is recorded in other sanctuaries. In Etruria, in the ancient territory of Castrum Novum, coins have been found to overlap in time, though they have not been interpreted as ancient or residual coins; rather, they have confirmed Punic presence in the southern Etrurian coast, which had not been previously contemplated, in the territory of La Castellina, Cosa, and in the sanctuaries of Pyrgi and Gravisca, which imply contact with the Punic world, from at least the fourth century bce.37 The fill of the latest city wall at the archaeological site of Torre de Doña ­Blanca38 (Puerto de Santa María, Cádiz) revealed a chronology ranging 34 35 36 37 38

Alfaro Asins 2000. 23, 38. Blanco and López de la Orden 2000. Mata Carriazo 1970, 55; 1973, 435–​436. Alfaro Asins 2000. 23. Domínguez Arranz 2005, 555. Alfaro Asins and Marcos 1995, 395.

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between the late fourth and early third centuries bce, including material such as ‘Kuass ware’39 and two coins of type sngCop. 109–​119. In the nearby town of Las Cumbres (Puerto de Santa María, Cádiz),40 there also appeared three bronzes of type sngCop. 109–​119. Even more interesting is Carteia,41 since, as pointed out by A. Arévalo,42 the Carthaginian coins found on the site –​one type sngCop. 94–​97, five sngCop. 109–​119 and one sngCop. 144–​178  –​ were mistakenly published as Hispano-​Carthaginian.43 Although not mentioned by C. Alfaro, they do have archaeological contexts, and their association with other material, mainly ‘Kuass ware’, has led archaeologists to retrace the chronology of the site, admitting that the foundation of the city would have taken place towards the mid-​fourth century bce.44 Finally, other finds have been recovered from excavation at Mesas de Asta (Jerez de la Frontera, Cádiz),45 where another type sngCop. 109–​119 was recorded.46 In contrast to the province of Cádiz, barely any finds from Seville were recovered from archaeological excavations, excepting one type sngCop. 109–​119 in the Calle San Fernando (Seville).47 However, the abundance of these series has become evident in subsequent publications, not only in El Gandul,48 but also in other locations of southern Iberia, such as Arenal ii49 and the important site of Cerro de San Pedro50 (both in Fuentes de Andalucía, Seville). Like El Gandul, the latter was a populated settlement of Seville’s countryside during the Iron Age. 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Niveau de Villedary 2003, 180. Alfaro Asins and Marcos 1995, 395. Alfaro Asins 2000, 41, no. 25. Arévalo González 2006, 303. Woods et al. 1967, nos. 1131, 1135, 1173 and 1174. Arévalo González 2006, 303. Arévalo González 2006, 303. See also Roldán et al. 2003, 99–​118 and 116–​123. Esteve 1945, 155, pl. xxv and xxvi. See also Ferreiro 1981–​1982, who mistakenly classifies them as Hispano-​Carthaginian (see Alfaro Asins 2000, 39, no. 12). More coins from Cádiz have been published, although they are sporadic finds: two sngCop. 109–​119 and two sngCop. 144–​178 coins (Alfaro Asins 2000, 40, no.  20); and from Sanlúcar de Barrameda, another sngCop. 109–​119 (Mateu y Llopis 1967, no. 1236). Fernández Flores 2010b. It was found during the excavation of the Calle San Fernando, 2004 campaign (context Unit 1092. Catalogue No. 1395. Museum Inventory No.:  04/​17–​ 1092–​1992). Pliego Vázquez 2003a, 2003b, 2005. Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2011. Ferrer Albelda 2007. Fernández Caro 1992, 64, 79, 144–​145; Ferrer Albelda 2007. As in El Gandul, in Cerros de San Pedro, almost a thousand bronze coins have been recovered of the above-​mentioned types. While in Arenal ii, more than a thousand coins of the most common Siculo-​Punic type have been found. Moreover, isolated finds have also been recorded at the sites of Fuente de la Reina, Añoreta I and Argamasilla.

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Aside from these significant assemblages, the distribution of different pre-​ Barcid Carthaginian issues in Iberia51 may now be confirmed and expanded, thanks to the aforementioned farmm,52 some of which have already been published.53 Among the recorded coins, there are examples belonging to the earliest series, such as sngCop. 94–​97 and sngCop. 102–​105, although the most numerous series continues to be sngCop. 109–​119. The distribution area defined by new data confirms the geographical dispersion of these pieces, which enabled the mapping of Carthaginian military camps.54 The most significant examples of this first period are El Gandul (Alcalá de Guadaíra, Seville), La Tabla­da (El Viso del Alcor, Seville), Cerros de San Pedro (Fuente de Andalucía, Seville), Los Castellares de Puente Genil (Cordova) and Cerro Máquiz (Mengíbar, Jaén).55 None of these sites have been excavated extensively except the latter, due to its relevance during the Second Punic War.56 Although the discovery of these finds was largely accidental, in general they present a coherent composition, coinciding in chronology with the coins from El Gandul, that is, the late fourth century and first third of the third century bce. Besides these sites with abundant Siculo-​Punic coinage, dated between the fourth century and 300 bce, there are also other places with sporadic finds, though these were located thanks to the data provided by farmm, and are visibly in a worse state of conservation, due to wear, than the first sites.57 As mentioned above, these numerous coins were initially interpreted as residual coinage from the Second Punic War, and would therefore have circulated during the last decades of the third century bce. In previous works, 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

Published in Pliego Vázquez 2003b, Figs. 2, 5 and 8. See note 6. Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010 and 2011. Chaves Tristán 1990, 619; Pliego Vázquez 2003b, 46, Fig. 10. Some are mentioned in Alfaro Asins 2000, 40, no. 22. Arteaga and Blech 1992. Currently, J.P. Bellón and his team are once more excavating the place. See Chaves Tristán and Pliego Vázquez 2017. Single finds of sngCop. 109–​119 have been recorded in several places:  Mesa del Almendro, Mesa de Setefilla and La Franca (all three located in Lora del Río, Seville), Mesa de Alcolea (Alcolea del Río, Seville), Cerro de los Caballos (La Puebla de los Infantes, Seville), Celti (Peñaflor, Seville), Montemolín (Marchena, Seville), La Atalaya (Casariche), Ategua, Montalbán and Baena (Cordova), and Cástulo, Giribaile (Jaén); two examples have been found in Fuentidueñas (Écija, Seville) and Mesa del Castillo (Manzanilla, Huelva). In regard to series sngCop. 144–​178, dated to 300–​264 bc, one coin was found in Peña de la Sal (Alcolea del Río, Seville), and in Montalbán and La Camorra de las Cabezuelas (Santaella), both in the province of Cordova; while two were found in Montemolín (Marchena, Seville). Some of these places are mentioned by Alfaro Asins 2000, 40, no. 22.

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I  discarded this possibility by comparing the material from El Gandul with other coins from the central Mediterranean showing a similar composition and state of conservation, including Sicilian examples from Cinisi (Palermo),58 Monte Adranone,59 and the set of coins published in igch with the no. 2205;60 as well as the Yale find in Malta;61 all dated to the fourth century bce.62 It is interesting to observe how Italian researchers dated these groups based on a direct study of the artefacts –​mainly composed of the series sngCop. 109–​119, which is also the most common series at El Gandul –​although, just as in Spain, most coins were not recovered from archaeological excavations. Furthermore, I was able to confirm that the assemblages belonging to the war period, made up of foreign coinage, were different from the groups described above. As evidenced by the hoard of Doña Blanca (Puerto de Santa María, Cádiz), and principally by the coins discovered during the dredging of the port of Melilla, Siculo-​Punic issues are not generally present among war period assemblages, and when they are, they are only testimonial.63 We are now able to add new data from the Roman camp of La Palma, located at the mouth of the Ebro River, dated between 219–​207 bce. This site has provided numerous examples of the coinage used by the sides implicated in the Second Punic War, including pieces preserved in private collections. However, the coin series discussed above represent a miniscule sample of the finds.64 In sum, the finds speak for themselves. The oldest coins, found at El Gandul or Cerros de San Pedro, are not always associated with the foreign coinage characteristic of the Second Punic War or with Hispano-​Carthaginian issues. In fact, in certain centres, mainly in the lower Guadalquivir, coin concentrations are clearly differentiated from each other, as will be seen below. The identification of these series with Carthaginian coinage, circulating at least from the fourth century bce, is not only clearly demonstrated by the numismatic material itself, but is also supported by other archaeological data and by literary sources, as has been shown in previous papers.65 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

Buttrey 1978. Visonà 1990, 170–​192. igch 1973, no. 2205. Visonà 1990. Today, there are other points on the map that reinforce this chronology, such as Iaitas (Palermo, Sicily). See Isler 2011, 135–​145, 152; Frey-​Kupper 2013. A view on the new advances in Frey-​Kupper 2014. Alfaro Asins and Marcos 1994, 229–​244; Alfaro Asins 1993a, 9–​46. More specifically, two coins of type sngCop. 109–​119 were found in a very poor state of conservation. Therefore, in this particular case, these two coins were indeed used as residual coinage. Noguera and Tarradell-​Font 2009. See, for example, Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2013, with bibliography.

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Carthaginians in Iberia: The Literary and Archaeological Evidence

Towards the last third of the sixth century bce, Carthage burst onto the Mediterranean scene. At that time the south-​west of Iberia was settled by different communities of varied cultural origins, which interacted actively with each other. The Punics, or western Phoenicians, were the inheritors of the Phoenicians, who in the eighth century bce settled along the southern coast of Iberia, and contributed to the flourishing of the Tartessian culture through contact with the indigenous communities of the Guadalquivir Valley. As a result of this process, the population of the interior of Andalusia and Extremadura became receptive to eastern influences, due to a prolonged cultural interaction. Following E. Ferrer’s notion of ‘Punic cultural space’,66 used in reference to the territory occupied by the ancient Phoenician settlements, one could also consider the area as a ‘Punic sphere’, which would include the cities located along the bank of the Lacus Ligustinus, the Corbones Valley, Los Alcores, and the south of Extremadura. The first treaty between Rome and Carthage is dated precisely to the sixth century bce. It is known through Polybius, and in it Romans and Carthaginians defined the limits of their respective areas of influence in the Mediterranean. In my opinion, Iberia was not included in this treaty, although other authors have interpreted it otherwise.67 However, this does not mean Carthage did not maintain relations with the western Phoenician cities previously. In fact, the Atlantic peripli of Hannon and Himilco (Pliny nh. 2.169) took place before the First Punic War,68 showing the interest of the Punic power in exploration and navigation routes. Despite the evidence provided by these sources on Carthage’s interest in both shores of the Strait, this does not imply that these territories belonged to the ‘empire’ or that it held effective military control over them. It may be indicating some kind of tutelary relationship, facilitated by pacts and agreements with the coastal communities of the Atlantic and Mediterranean,69 in line with the relations that Carthage held with other 66 67 68 69

Ferrer Albelda 1998, 37. See an analysis in Pliego Vázquez 2003a, n. 29. González Ponce 2008, 78. Other testimonies pointing at possible pacts have been analysed by E. Ferrer Albelda (see, for example, Ferrer Albelda, and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 552 ff), among them: the aid sent by Carthage to Gadir during the attack of hostile neighbours (Just. Epit. 44.5.1–​4) (see also Pliego Vázquez 2003a, 45 ff), which took place prior to the disembarkation of Hamilcar Barca in Gadir (237 bc); the plead of Mago Barca, invoking the friendship between both cities, when the city shut its doors to the general, already foreseeing the loss of the war (Livy 26.37.10; App. Hisp. 38); or the fidelity of Baria to the Carthaginians in the Second

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cities of Phoenician descent in other areas of the Mediterranean,70 as gauged from the literary sources. There is a set of literary texts which, though scant and fragmentary, shed some light on the relations of Carthage with the south of Iberia at such an early stage. E. Ferrer Albelda has studied these disparate references extensively. Transmitted in works of diverse genre, aims, interests and readership, they are mostly indirect references which reflect the poor knowledge of the Greeks concerning the west, at least until the Second Punic War and the subsequent Roman conquest.71 Previous publications72 have already dealt with literary references to Carthaginian interests in Iberia,73 such as those by Polybius himself, who, in the context of the First Punic War, wrote ‘… they yet saw that Carthaginian aggrandisement was not confined to Libya, but had embraced many districts in Iberia as well; and that Carthage was, besides, mistress of all the islands in the Sardinian and Tyrrhenian sea’ (Polyb. 1.10.15; transl. E.S. Shuckburgh 1889); or regarding Hamilcar Barca, who in 237 bce ‘… crossing by the Pillars of Hercules, set about recovering the Carthaginian possessions in Iberia’ (Polyb. 2.1.5; transl. E.S. Shuckburgh 1889).74 Throughout the fourth century bce, central Mediterranean products increased in Iberia,75 but there is other archaeological evidence which also supports a growing and more stable Carthaginian presence in the region. This evidence has been extensively dealt with by E. Ferrer Albelda and F.J. García Fernández,76 and will not be repeated here. As pointed out by these authors, considering the direct evidence it is not difficult to imagine the interest Carthage held in securing control over commercial routes and access to resources in the regions, mainly through its western allies such as Gadir. Moreover, during this period, the first coins minted in Spanish silver in Sicily appeared; it is generally accepted that part of the first bronze issues mentioned above were struck in metal from mines in Iberia.77 This thesis is based on the analysis of lead isotopes from coins, and may be contrasted

70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

Punic War (see Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 35–​38 cited in Ferrer Albelda, García Fernández, and Pliego Vázquez, 2017, 341, n. 17). See De Vicenzo 2013. See, among others, Ferrer Albelda 1996a, 2008b; Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 528–​541; Ferrer Albelda, García Fernández, and Pliego Vázquez 2017, 339–​341. Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2013, 116. Discussed by Barceló 1988, 2006. See, for example, Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 530. Such as the red-​slip ‘Kuass ware’ (see Niveau de Villedary 2003; Moreno Megías 2016). Ferrer Albelda, García Fernández, and Pliego Vázquez 2017, 343 ff. Manfredi 2000, 16.

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with historical documents, thanks to a text by Diodorus Siculus (5.38.2) which mentions the ‘very ancient’ exploitation of mines in Hispania by the Carthaginians, which contributed to financing the wars against Siculi, Libyans and Romans.78 In the same text, Diodorus also mentions Carthaginian interest in mercenaries, who were indispensable for sustaining constant warfare, an issue which has been extensively dealt with elsewhere.79 These and other texts of Diodorus, such as the passage narrating the aggressive attitude of Carthage towards foreign vessels navigating in the direction of Sardinia and the Pillars of Heracles (Diod. Sic. 5.20), reiterate Carthaginian control over territories in southern Iberia before 237 bce, although from an imperialistic point of view. However, the passage may be exaggerating or dramatizing a potential imbalance of forces between Carthage and Rome, in order to justify the latter’s intervention.80 In sum, Carthage was not only interested in controlling Iberia, it was also capable of doing so, and took advantage of the possibility of exerting its hegemony over the Punic communities of Iberia and other populations, not necessarily of Phoenician origin. The communities would have been in need of resources to equip armies and naval fleets to guard against pirate attacks –​an endemic problem to the Mediterranean –​as well as to confront hostile pressure exerted by neighbours, both on land and at sea.81 The asymmetry between Carthage and its allies must have been evident. The former would not have hesitated in using its strength, even against its allies, when defending strategic interests, which in the west consisted mainly of trafficking: metals, particularly silver and tin;82 mercenaries and slaves; and perishable goods, such as wheat and esparto.83

78

79 80 81 82 83

Some authors consider Carthage the leader in the economic recovery of the mining fields of Rio Tinto and Aznacóllar, thanks to the implementation of new forms of exploitation of ancient sites and new metallurgic techniques, as well as a reorganization of the territory aimed at optimizing production processes and distribution channels for the surplus of metal (Bendala Galán 1994, 67–​68). Good proof of this is the abandonment of Tejada la Vieja in the fourth century bc and the subsequent foundation of Tejada la Nueva (the former Ituci) in its proximities (Ferrer Albelda, García Fernández, and Pliego Vázquez 2017, 343–​344). Pliego Vázquez 2003a. Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2013, 116. Ferrer Albelda 2013. As described by García Bellido (2010, 204, n. 5), for the Carthaginians, tin was as essential as gold and silver. Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2013, 117. On the demand for esparto, see Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 552; Ferrer Albelda 2011b, 314.

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Pre-​Barcid Carthaginians in Iberia in the Light of Numismatic Evidence

Despite the ample evidence put forth, this interpretation has encountered historiographical prejudice from Spanish scholarship, rooted in anti-​imperialistic stances against the traditional invasionist thesis, which interpreted the pre-​ Barcid period as a tight, imperial domain over Iberia. With notable exceptions,84 given the resistance towards this new approach, the material evidence has generally been overlooked. This is probably due to the fact that most of it has not been recovered from archaeological excavations, although, as commented above, this is not only a problem for numismatics in the region, but also for other areas in Spain and Italy. From an international perspective, this material is still widely unknown, indeed, the most complete and recent work on Mediterranean Punic issues between the fourth and the first centuries bce does not include material from the Iberian Peninsula.85 Although most of the evidence has been overlooked or ignored, this has not been the case with Mª.P. García Bellido, who, while not completely denying the thesis proposed here,86 has attempted to explain these coin series in the context of the Second Punic War. She does so in an interesting study, which suggests the identification of Akra Leuke with Carmona, meaning western Iberia would have played a more important role than previously thought during the Barcid period, in comparison to eastern Iberia, where research has traditionally situated the weight of historical events. Although recognizing the relevance of Turdetania and Baeturia87 in Carthaginian expansion aimed at exploiting economic resources, she transfers all this interest to the Barcid period, ignoring all the literary and archaeological evidence which suggests otherwise. Her explanation, therefore, is centred in the numismatic evidence from El Gandul. We should remember that in the first study of the coin ensemble from El Gandul, 251 pieces were recovered, of which 182 were part of the same group, exclusively composed of 164 Tanit/​horse before palm tree (sngCop. 109–​119) coins and 18 Tanit/​protome (sngCop. 144–​178) coins. The remainder were isolated finds: three Carthaginian88 and five Hispano-​Carthaginian89 coins. It is 84 85 86 87 88 89

For example, Chaves Tristán 2012b; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a. Frey-​Kupper 2014. Hence, the author can only partially achieve her aim of comparing coin series from Sicily with other places in the Mediterranean. García Bellido 2010, 210. Currently territories belonging to the provinces of Huelva, Seville, as well as the autonomous community of Extremadura and the mid Guadalquivir river course. sngCop. 126–​127), sngCop. 302–​306) sngCop. 324–​325. cnh, 39 (two coins), 43, 44, 50.

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worth recalling that my interpretation is not solely based on this assemblage, but also on testimonies provided by local informants, contrasted with records provided by farmm, which show, ever since these finds started appearing, a clear concentration of Siculo and Sardinian-​Punic coinage in specific locations –​El Gandul, Cerros de San Pedro, La Tablada de El Viso –​coupled with a scarcity of Hispano-​Carthaginian pieces in these places. Likewise, the same data stress the difference existing between finds from these sites and others, such as Montemolín (Marchena, Seville), where the concentration of Hispano-​ Carthaginian coinage is extraordinary in relation to the virtual absence of foreign Carthaginian pieces. This corroborates the information provided by E.  Collantes, who assures us that among the thousands of pieces recovered from Montemolín, there was not a single foreign coin, and minimizes the opinion of Mª.P. García Bellido, for whom such correlations are due to ‘the collector’s chance’.90 In addition, this author alluded to the aforementioned five Hispano-​ Carthaginian coins from El Gandul in order to argue in favour of a later chronology for the circulation of Siculo and Sardinian-​Punic coinage at this site.91 Mª.P. García Bellido has also stated that the published coins from Montemolín are indeed more recent, although she argues that there are also Sardinian coins of the third century bce common among Spanish finds of the Second Punic War. In this regard, it is worth mentioning that not a single coin of this type has been found among the few bronze assemblages known for this time period.92 Thanks to the information provided by farmm, two examples may now be placed at Montemolín,93 although they are very worn, which does not contradict the interpretations put forth in this paper. Gaditanian sites have shown that prolonged occupation causes later coinage to appear in the upper strata, which is not so evident in those sites which have not been excavated. Many of these places cover an extremely long period of time. El Gandul, for 90

91 92

93

García Bellido 2010, 208. In this sense, Mª P. García Bellido (2010, 207) points out that the coins published by E. Collantes (1980) were mainly recovered by metal detectors, with no reliability of context. However, my research carried out on these finds is not only based on this paper, but has also been contrasted with other data. Ibid., 207. They are absent from the foreign coin hoard of Doña Blanca (Alfaro Asins and Marcos 1994), from Montemolín (Collantes 1980), as well as from all other assemblages, composed by Hispano-​Carthaginian coins, such as the hoard from La Escuera (Llobregat 1966; Ramón Sánchez, 2002) and the hoard of the Real Academia de la Historia (Hurtado Mullor 2009). On the other hand, they are not found either in the repertoire from the archaeological site of La Palma (Noguera and Tarradell-​Font 2009). I would like to thank J. Noguera for the information. See note 56.

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example, records occupation for many other periods, including numerous archaeological finds from earlier dates  –​such as the valuable orientalising platter94  –​and later chronologies, including surgical and medical objects,95 Roman inscriptions,96 and a significant presence of leaden sling-​bullets, also Roman.97 In terms of coin finds, there is information regarding the discovery of Islamic, medieval and even modern coinage.98 The evident pre-​Barcid chronology of material at El Gandul leads Mª.P. García Bellido to state, almost conclusively, that coinage dated between the fourth and beginning of the third centuries bce is ‘mainly the remains of Hamilcar’s army fund, brought to Iberia for his first campaigns’.99 For the author, this army fund, ‘like all the other known examples, was composed of very old coinage, sometimes up to two–​three centuries old, which the army hoarded and reused’.100 The existence of these army funds has been studied by Mª.P García Bellido,101 also recorded in Roman camps in Germania, such as Vindonissa and Augusta Raurica, where new coinage of Tiberius was found together with old, Republican asses.102 This was not an extended phenomenon in the Roman period, and in this particular case, it was probably exceptional.103 Mª.P. García Bellido describes these ‘practically illegible’ ancient coins as countermarked and in their majority, chipped. Their state of conservation and the fact that they were countermarked, a deliberate act by the issuing authority aimed at revaluing the coins, rules out this case as a valid parallel. The Carthaginian coins from the fourth and beginning of the third centuries, from the aforementioned sites of southern Iberia, are all in an optimal state of conservation, and even though the dies are still to be studied, it is possible to observe in numerous pieces a common die, shared by coins in other areas of the central Mediterranean. On the other hand, let us recall that this coinage is not mixed in the lower Guadalquivir sites, although it is in upper Andalusia, where occupation of the sites may have overlapped, after the arrival of Hamilcar. 94 95 96 97 98

Fernández Gómez 1989, 199–​218. Hibbs 1991, 111–​134. Ordóñez Agulla 2014, 218–​220. García Garrido and Lalana 1991–​1993, 101–​108. Such an overlap of chronologies is recorded in many sites where residual coinage is not even suggested, see Domínguez Arranz 2005. 99 An idea already suggested by Villaronga 1983, 72–​74. 100 Translated into English from García Bellido 2010, 208. 1 01 2006, 647. 102 Kraay 1962, 21; Peter 2001; Besombes 2003–​2004, 11 (all of them cited in García Bellido 2006, 647, n. 34). 103 The author herself recognizes that no ancient Republican coinage is found together with Tiberian period coins in military camps in Hispania (García Bellido 2006, 647).

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Although suggestive, her hypothesis does not explain why the oldest coins were only found in some sites, while the Hispano-​Carthaginian coins are present in all of them, if indeed they all belonged to a same army fund; nor why these ancient coins were found in such good state of conservation, if some of them had been circulating for over a century.104 On the other hand, it would be surprising for the army to maintain such quantities of metal in these army funds, as in the sample from the dredging of the port of Melilla, composed of thousands of pieces of which only one is a Siculo-​Punic coin (sngCop. 109–​ 119) and four are from Sardinia (sngCop. 144–​178), all of which are so worn –​ ­particularly the first –​that the typology is hardly identifiable. Moreover, the hypothesis of Mª.P. García Bellido contradicts European research on the monetary supply of the Carthaginian epicracy.105 In sum, the explanation of these coins in terms of army funds appears more controversial than accepting Carthage already looked upon Iberia before the arrival of Hamilcar to Gadir in 237 bce. In fact, considering the existence of Carthaginian exploration voyages as of the fifth century bce, it appears improbable that Iberia would have remained outside its interests. Mª.P. García Bellido herself highlights the wealth and mining diversity of western Andalusia –​the mines of Río Tinto, Tejada la Vieja, Huelva and Cordova –​incomparable to the rest of Iberia. In fact, the thesis proposed here supports her identification of Akra Leuke with Carmona, probably the largest centre of power of the lower Guadalquivir. Some years ago, E. Ferrer pointed out that the number of coins found at El Gandul and Cerros de San Pedro, both equidistant oppida from Carmo, seem to reveal a strategic interest in controlling the fortified town.106 He considered the possibility that these garrisons or camps were destined for the siege or intimidation of Carmona, as these two fortresses closely controlled its southern and eastern flanks, and may have used troops from Sardinia and Sicily or may have been in possession of coinage minted on these islands.107 The specific reasons which may have led Carthage to garrison troops in the interior of the Guadalquivir Valley at an early stage is unknown. However, if this event is inserted into the general context of the central and western 104 The author, while exploring the idea of the frequency of use of old coinage, cites R. Wolters (2001, 587), who sustains that Roman soldiers, in the Late Republic and beginning of the Early Empire, were paid mainly with coins from previous periods. However, Wolters clearly specifies that these payments were always in gold or silver and not bronze, so this argument is not a valid parallel for the topic of this paper. 105 According to S. Frey-​Kupper (2006, 33), ‘dans les territoires de l’Épicratie carthaginoise, l’approvisionnement en numéraire a extrêmement bien fonctionné’. 106 Ferrer Albelda 2007, 210. 107 Ibid.

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Mediterranean during the Late Iron Age, it may be better understood. Once more, the information transmitted by Pompeius Trogus through Justin’s Epitome (44.5.1–​4) on the aid sent by Carthage to its Gaditanian ‘kin’, due to the pressure exerted by neighbouring peoples (Turdetanians?) is very expressive with regard to possible agreements struck between states in the ancient Mediterranean.108 6 Conclusion The existence of Carthaginian coinage in Iberia from the fourth and first half of the third centuries bce, belonging to the pre-​Barcid period, seems to be proven, both by finds from archaeological contexts and by data collected from un-​excavated sites. The arrival of such quantities of coins at a time when there was still no monetary economy in this part of Iberia is not easily explained without considering the army. The interest of Carthage in southern Iberia before 237 bce is not only an intelligent guess based on the policy carried out by the north African power, particularly after the fourth century, it is also supported by literary and archaeological evidence. However, a military presence does not necessarily entail an imperial domination. The comparison of literary references and archaeological data invites reflection on the relations which may have existed between Carthage and the Punic communities of southern Iberia, as well as with other Turdetanian and Iberian populations between the fourth century and 237 bce. The entire region, integrated into the ancient Carthaginian commercial structure from early periods, must have been incorporated into the new strategy of the fourth century bce. Therefore, it would not have been uncommon for a Carthaginian fleet to patrol the coast around the Strait of Gibraltar and the Spanish Levant in defence of its interests, as well as that of its allies. Likewise, it would be possible to imagine Carthaginian armies, with troops from Sicily and Sardinia, carrying their coinage, while penetrating inland through the Guadalquivir Valley, for reasons that are not clear to us, but were probably related to the wealth of the territory. In my opinion, Carthaginian military presence would have favoured the use of coinage. There is no reason to deny the existence of some kind of budding commercial activity in this area, which was economically and strategically important in terms of communication networks and resources, such as the mining fields of Sierra Morena, without forgetting that most of these places were inheritors of cultural spheres familiar with ancient eastern roots.109 108 109

Ibid., 212. Chaves Tristán 2012c, 156.

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However, if the coin types of these early series reflect a shared and easily understood iconography among the Punic communities, their use must have spread quickly to all kinds of users, regardless of their identity. If so, these transactions may have been carried out with these bronze fractional coins since, in contrast to the Spanish Levant, where silver had been used as money for a long time,110 the south of Iberia seems to have begun the use of coinage with bronze pieces. In fact, the monetary system developed later was almost exclusively based on this metal, encompassing the totality of communities existing in this territory. The typological complexity of these coins, observed for the second period,111 during which ‘iconographies were ambiguous or, rather, multi-​faceted’, was the result of a system established by ethnically and culturally hybrid societies.112 While the literary data has always been read from the perspective of an assumed Carthaginian aspiration to occupy Iberia, this first period may also be interpreted from the point of view of the Punic communities in Iberia, who were probably more interested in gaining protection than Carthage was in dominating them.113 Despite sharing the same origins and a roughly homogenous culture, these Punic communities from Iberia lacked ethnic cohesion,114 the extensive Iberian coastline being atomized into a countless number of poleis.115 On the other hand, as regards the first Carthaginian coin series, their expansion throughout territories of Punic influence does not mean that they were only used by communities of Phoenician tradition. Rather, they would have become a useful means for exchange in territories under Carthaginian control, ‘independent of the ethnicity or cultural background of the users’.116

1 10 See Chaves Tristán and Pliego Vázquez 2015, with bibliography. 111 See contribution by Mora in this same volume, on the coinage of southern Iberia in later periods. 112 Mora Serrano in this same volume:  ‘many of these iconographies were ambiguous or, rather, multi-​faceted, created by ethnically and culturally hybrid societies’. 113 See Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 225. 114 Ferrer Albelda and Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2009. Political cohesion is even less probable (see Ferrer Albelda 2006; Ferrer Albelda and García Fernández 2007). 115 This lack of cohesion may explain the variety in iconography found in the coinage of these Punic cities in later periods. In this sense, Mora Serrano (in this same volume) questions whether ‘the iconography contributes, on its own, sufficient and reliable data to ascribe ethnic identities to many of these southern coinages’, pointing out that ‘ethnic adscriptions’ are assigned according to ‘the legends accompanying the images, whether they be Iberian or Phoenician in diverse scripts, Punic and Neo-​Punic’. 116 Frey-​Kupper 2003, 534, n. 16; Ead. 2006, 33.

Chapter 7

Tyrian Connections: Evolving Identities in the Punic West Manuel Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 1 Introduction The intent of this contribution is twofold.* First, it proposes a revision of the historical process undergone by the communities of Phoenician origin in the Far West during the Punic period,1 particularly after the fourth century bce. This is an important phase for our understanding of the complex mosaic of peoples and cultures later to be found in Roman Turdetania as of the second century bce. Second, in-​keeping with the theme of the volume, which analyses the creation, development and transformation of identities, this chapter reviews the existence of an overarching, shared identity among the Phoenician communities of the western Mediterranean during this period, based on a common Tyrian origin. Between the fourth century bce and the Roman occupation, political relations between the western Phoenician communities, particularly between Gadir and Carthage, developed as part of a common framework, founded on the belief of a common Tyrian past and the influence of the god Melqart of Tyre over these cities. Over the last decades, historical debate on the Punic period in Iberia has centred on the question of Carthaginian imperialism in the west before the Barcids.2 Considering the limited archaeological evidence on the subject, most

* The research for this chapter was conducted as part of the projects har2010–​14893 and har2015–​66011–​p (mineco/​f eder), funded by the Ministry of Economics and Competitiveness of Spain. I would like to thank the editor of this volume, Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti, for his kind invitation to participate; and Carolina López-​Ruiz for her helpful suggestions. 1 The term is used in a chronological sense, referring to the period following the transformations of the sixth century bce, and not exclusively as an equivalent of ‘Carthaginian’. An excellent historiographical and conceptual review, concerning the terms ‘Phoenician’ and ‘Punic’ may be found in Quinn and Vella 2014. 2 Whittaker 1978; Bendala Galán 1987; González Wagner 1984, 1985, 1989, 1994; Barceló 1988, 2006; López Castro 1991b, 1991c, 1992a, 1992b, 2000a, 2001; Alvar Ezquerra et al. 1992, 1995; Frutos 1993; Koch 2001; Niveau de Villedary 2001, 2008; López Pardo and Suárez 2002; Muñoz and Frutos 2005; Domínguez Monedero 2007; Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 2013.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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theses have traditionally relied on a reduced list of ancient sources, including various passages in Polybius pointing towards Carthaginian occupation in parts of Iberia before the arrival of Hamilcar in 237 bce (Polyb. 2.1.5; 3.1.10; 3.24.1–​12). However, it is Justin (Epit. 44.5.1–​4) who summarizes in a brief text the phases of Carthaginian domination in southern Hispania. This passage has already been studied in terms of the articulation of an identity-​network at an Atlantic-​Mediterranean scale, which branched out from Tyre and extended as far as Carthage and Gadir.3 While these studies were approached from a synchronic or ‘horizontal’ point of view, here the same passage will be used to show the evolution of the role played by ‘Tyrian identity’ in the Far West, which depended on the political interests of the city of Gadir. A  diachronic, or ‘vertical’ point of view is applied, in order to shed light on the evolution of identity links among the western Phoenician communities, as part of a historical process in play up to the Roman period, placing particular attention on the relationship between Gadir and Carthage. 2

Justin 44.5.1–​4: A Reinterpretation 5 [1]‌After the Spanish dynasties it was the Carthaginians who first gained control of the country. [2] Following instructions given in a dream, the people of Gades brought the sacra of Hercules to Spain from Tyre (also the country of origin of the Carthaginians) and founded a city there, but the neighbouring peoples in Spain, envious of the progress made by the new city, made war on them. The Carthaginians therefore sent assistance to their relatives. [3] The expedition met with success; the Carthaginians both defended the people of Gades from aggression and also, by even greater aggression on their part, added an area of the country to their own empire. [4] Later, encouraged by the success of their first expedition, they also sent their general Hamilcar with a large force to seize the entire country …4 (translation adapted from J.C. Yardley 1994).

3 Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a, 2014b, 2018. 4 5 [1]‌ Post regna deinde Hispaniae primi Karthaginienses imperium provinciae occupavere. [2] Nam cum Gaditani a Tyro, unde et Karthaginiensibus origo est, sacra Herculis per quietem iussi in Hispaniam transtulissent urbemque ibi condidissent, invidentibus incrementis novae urbis finitimis Hispaniae populis ac propterea Gaditanos bello lacessentibus auxilium consanguineis Karthaginienses misere. [3] Ibi felici expeditione et Gaditanos ab iniuria vindicaverunt et maiore iniuria partem provinciae imperio suo adiecerunt. [4] Postea quoque hortantibus primae expeditionis auspiciis Hamilcarem imperatorem cum manu magna ad occupandam provinciam misere … (Just. Epit. 44.5.1–​4; ed. O. Seel 1972)

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The Historiae Philippicae of Pompeius Trogus, written in the time of Augustus, are a good exponent of the tendency to create universal histories at a time when Rome was consolidating its control over the known world. The text of Trogus is only preserved through the summary of Justin, dated to the third or fourth centuries ce.5 Despite its brevity, Justin’s passage has been subject to a long tradition of historical exegesis in modern scholarship.6 However, interpretations have unanimously coincided in establishing the starting point in the sequence of events as the foundation of Gadir by Tyrian colonists, who brought with them the cult to Melqart. After the foundational episode, it is generally accepted that there is a break in the narration, a chronological jump to a later period that is impossible to determine, in which Gadir is attacked by certain neighbouring communities in Iberia. Hostilities would have been caused by the success of the new city, Gadir, followed by the arrival of the Carthaginian expedition in aid of its kin. The second stage, which begins with the attack on the Gaditanians, ends with the decision of the Carthaginians to settle in a certain region of Iberia, taking over territory. Then, another chronological jump takes place, leading to the third stage and the arrival of Hamilcar Barca in 237 bce.7 Viewed from a traditional perspective, the main problem lies in determining the chronology of the second phase in the narration, that is, the attack on the Gaditanians by certain neighbouring communities and the subsequent arrival of Carthaginian aid. This second event in the narration has generally been linked to the so-​called ‘crisis of the sixth century bce’, a period of transformation both for the local Tartessian culture and for the Phoenician communities of the Iberian Peninsula.8 An exception to this traditional interpretation of the second stage of Justin’s passage is found in the work of E. Ferrer and R. Pliego; they propose to date the episode of the attack on the Gaditanians and the Carthaginian expedition to the mid-​fourth century bce, when the archaeological record reflects an increase in Carthaginian presence in the south-​west of the Iberian Peninsula.9 However, this alternative proposal generates another problem, for it increases considerably the gap between the first and second

5 Alonso Núñez 1987, 1992; Castro Sánchez 1995. 6 Schulten 1924; García y Bellido 1942; Bendala Galán 1987; López Castro 1992a; Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010; Domínguez Monedero 2012; Fernández Camacho 2013; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a. 7 López Castro 1992a. 8 Aubet 2001, 344; Neville 2005, 169; Martín Ruiz 2007. 9 Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010.

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stages of Justin’s narration, the time between the foundation of Gadir and the Carthaginian aid expedition. In recent work, a new, radically different interpretation of Justin’s passage has been put forth, reconsidering the accepted outline for the historical process involving the western Phoenician world between the fourth and second centuries bce.10 This proposal starts by paying particular attention to the circumstances under which Justin summarizes the Historiae Philippicae. It has been proved by specialists that his epitomizing technique is not based on the summary of the original text, but on deleting more or less extensive extracts of Trogus’ account.11 These omissions of the original Historiae are identifiable by Justin’s use of expressions aimed at joining the paragraphs he decided to keep, after eliminating the content in between. For this particular passage, J.L. López Castro has identified with reasonable accuracy the two places where Justin deleted the original text by Trogus.12 The first of these omissions is detected in the initial words of the chapter: Post regna deinde Hispaniae primi Karthaginienses … The reference to content exposed in the previous chapter (Just. Epit. 44.4) relative to the ‘Spanish dynasties’, together with the expression deinde are solid indicators that Justin deleted some content immediately prior to the question on the Carthaginian imperium.13 After this first omission, the structure of the passage follows a straightforward sequence. In order to explain the origin of the Carthaginian imperium in Hispania, the narration goes back in time to the foundation of a city by the Gaditanians, after having received in dreams an oracle ordering them to transfer certain sacra Herculis from Tyre. Subsequent events are presented with no apparent interruptions up to the appropriation of ‘an area of the country’ (pars provinciae) by the Carthaginians. The second of the omissions from the original text by Trogus is detected in the opening words of the fourth paragraph: Postea quoque hortantibus primae expeditionis auspiciis … A new sequence of events then begins, following the expedition led by Hamilcar. Before this episode, Justin would have deleted original content from the Historiae covering an undetermined lapse of time between the first territorial annexations by the Carthaginians and 237 bce. Traditional interpretations of the passage may have been based on a mistaken premise: the belief that the initial event in the paragraph referred to the foundation of Gadir. To start with, this assumption leaves a great chronological 10 11 12 13

Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a, 2014b, 2018. Forni and Angeli Bertinelli 1982; Alonso Núñez 1987, 1992; López Castro 1992a. López Castro 1992a. Castiglioni 1925, 3; López Castro 1992a, 224.

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gap between the first event in the narration and the attack on the Gaditanians by ‘the neighbouring peoples in Spain’. If the foundation of Gadir took place sometime in the ninth century bce,14 the gap would range between three and five centuries, depending on the date given to the attack: the sixth century bce or the fourth century bce, as suggested by E. Ferrer and R. Pliego.15 However, if the attack on the Gaditanians and the arrival of the Carthaginians is dated to the sixth century bce, the cause-​effect relationship established by the text between the arrival of Hamilcar in 237 bce and the first successful expedition, which served as a precedent, would be broken.16 The new interpretation is based on a very straightforward alternative reading. The city is not Gadir, but another colony, founded by the Gaditanians themselves. Traditionally, it has been assumed that the oracle ordering the transfer of the sacra Herculis and the foundation of a new city in Hispania was granted by Hercules (Melqart) to the Tyrians and that the new community was Gadir. The reason behind this general assumption, it seems, is found in the similar scene narrated by Strabo (3.5.5) for the foundation of Gadir, a coincidence which will be dealt with below. On the other hand, a more literal reading of the text might be more appropriate, one interpreting the receptors of the oracle as Gaditanians, not Tyrians, in another time period, obviously, after the foundation of their own city. The account would therefore not begin with the foundation of Gadir, but with the foundation of a colony by the Gaditanians, who are the receptors of the god’s oneiric oracle. The new foundation is therefore an unnamed city in the text. It is important to point out that no interruption is detected in the sequence of events beginning with the oracle delivered to the Gaditanians until the annexation of certain pars provinciae by the Carthaginians, which is followed by the second of the omissions from the original by Trogus. As mentioned above, the epitomizing technique used by Justin basically consists of the elimination of content, rather than synthesis. Bearing this in mind, it is fairly safe to assume that the sequence beginning with the oracle and ending with the first Carthaginian conquest of certain territories in Iberia constitutes a single, continuous block of events, which are linked chronologically and by a causal nexus. Hence, all the events contained in this section of the passage could have followed each other without great chronological leaps in a same time period. After the oneiric oracle, certain sacra Herculis would have been transferred from Tyre to the new foundation in Iberia, a successful city, which would have 14 15 16

Gener et al. 2014. Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010. López Castro 1992a, 225.

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aroused the hostilities of certain communities in the Peninsula. The attack on the Gaditanians by the neighbouring peoples would have been followed, without interruption, by the Carthaginian aid expedition and the subsequent annexation of certain territories in Iberia. By dissociating the beginning of the account from the foundation of Gadir, the sequence of events is no longer subject to a forced elongation of its chronology, stretching back to the ninth century bce. By changing the perspective and assuming that the account begins with the foundation of a subcolony by the Gaditanians, the general chronology may be shortened into a much more coherent framework. The starting date for the reconstruction of the whole sequence of events is the arrival of Hamilcar to Iberia in 237 bce. The original contents by Trogus, prior to this event and omitted by Justin, did not necessarily span a large period of time since, as pointed out in the text, one expedition led to the next. If Hamilcar’s arrival was not far off in time from the first Carthaginian expedition, the foundation of the Gaditanian colony could have taken place in a time frame not extremely distant from the expedition led by Hamilcar. In the new interpretation, the Gaditanians founded a city in Iberia sometime not too distant to 237 bce, with the active participation of the sanctuary of Melqart in Tyre, from where the god’s sacra were transported for the occasion. The key question of course is to identify the city and its actual date of foundation. 3

Gadir, Carteia and Melqart

Another recent proposal is the identification of the city founded by the Gaditanians in Justin’s passage with Carteia, located on the Bay of Algeciras, next to the Strait of Gibraltar (Figure 7.1).17 The archaeological site has been systematically excavated since the 1990s by a team from the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, who date the foundational levels of the settlement to the mid fourth century bce. The city built walls from an initial stage, undertaking a second phase of monumental construction in the last quarter of the third century bce, during the Barcid period.18 The archaeologists in charge link the rise of Carteia with the abandonment of the nearby Cerro del Prado, a settlement of Phoenician origin, which dates back to the seventh century bce. The new city

17 18

Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a, 2014b, 2018. Bendala Galán et al. 2000; Roldán et al. 1998, 2003, 2006; Blánquez 2007; Blánquez et al. 2009, 2012.

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Figure 7.1 The Phoenician-​Punic settlement in the Straits of Gibraltar area. adapted by m. álvarez of courtesy from zamora and sáez 2014, 253.

would have been populated by Cerro del Prado people, who moved to a more extensive space, closer to the ocean, with excellent port conditions.19 On the other hand, the possibility of identifying Carteia with the colony founded by the Gaditanians in Justin’s passage, is supported by various factors. The first is the information given by Strabo on the city of Calpe, which is undoubtedly identified with Carteia. At that point [the strait at the Pillars] there is a mountain belonging to those Iberians called the Bastetanians, also called the Bastoulians. It is Kalpe, whose circumference is not large but whose height is so large and steep that from a distance it appears to be an island. For someone sailing from Our Sea to the External, it is on the right, and near it, 40 stadia away, is the distinguished ancient city of Kalpe, which was once an Iberian naval station. To some it was a foundation of Herakles, among whom is Timosthenes, who says that it was called Herakleia in antiquity, and that its large circuit wall and shipsheds are still pointed out (Strab. 3.1.7; transl. D.W. Roller). Recently, this passage has been read in light of the legend of the foundation of Tyre, as told by Nonnus of Panopolis (fifth century ce), and in the context of the foundation legends of cities of Tyrian origin, such as Gadir itself or Carthage.20 The passage on the foundation of Tyre transmitted in the Dionysiaca of 19 20

Blánquez et al. 2009. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a, 2014b.

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Nonnus (Dion. 40.423–​534) appears as a sort of mythical model characterized by certain structural elements. The main one is the dream oracle granted by Heracles to the future settlers of the city (Nonnus Dion. 40.443–​500), ordering them to seek out certain floating rocks –​the ‘Ambrosial Rocks’ –​which were anchored through the sacrifice of an eagle, all of which led to the foundation of Tyre (Nonnus Dion. 40.521–​534). It is possible to find this same mythological outline in certain traditions concerning Gadir. Strabo (3.5.5), in his account of the foundation of the city, still mentions the oracle, although significantly transformed by modern re-​ elaborations and Greek elements.21 On the other hand, the version contained in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca is clearly perceivable in the account offered by Porphyry (Abst. 1.25), who describes a miracle during the siege of Bogud, king of Mauritania, on the Heracleion of Gades in 38 bce. Once again, there is an oracular dream, in which the priest of the sanctuary sees a bird offering itself for sacrifice, an event which is fulfilled the following day, as if reflecting a ritual performed during the foundation of the sacred place.22 Carthage was different to other foundations of the Tyrian diaspora because it was not Melqart, but Elissa-​Dido who founded the city. However, in Justin’s account (18.4.15) of the origin of the north-​African city, the sacra Herculis are once again a fundamental part of the legend.23 In sum, references to the establishment of a colony by the Gaditanians in Justin (44.5.1–​4), linked to the oneiric oracle of Melqart, would reflect a new, unstudied case of a foundational legend in the context of the Phoenician diaspora, following the same model as Tyre and Gadir. Similarities between the versions of Justin and Strabo on the foundation of Gadir (3.5.5) have led scholars to believe that they refer to the same historical event. However, the similarity could only be structural, involving the oracle of Melqart due to shared legendary traditions throughout the Tyrian koiné. Justin would be describing the foundation of a colony by the Gaditanians –​possibly Carteia –​by repeating the pattern for Tyre and Gadir, the colony’s metropolis. The model is based on the delivery of an oneiric oracle by Melqart and the foundation of a city with the presence of the Tyrian god, either through anonymous delegates (Nonnus) or through his sacra (Justin). Hence, the tradition transmitted by Timosthenes (Strab. 3.5.5), less than a century after the foundation of Carteia, would constitute a case of interpretatio graeca of a vernacular legend of Tyrian origin. The transportation of the god’s 21 22 23

López Melero 1988; Ribichini 2000; López Pardo 2010. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014b. Bonnet 1986; Garbati 2015.

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sacra all the way from Tyre, as mentioned in Justin’s account, would be directly related to the tradition which recognized Heracles as the founder of the city, as for the Phoenician metropolis and possibly also for Gadir.24 Two more arguments contribute towards identifying Carteia with the colony of the Gaditanians. Firstly, Strabo (3.1.7) describes the tradition attributing to Calpe (Carteia) the ancient name of ‘Heracleia’. It has been suggested that the name is actually a translation of a Phoenician place-​name meaning the ‘city of Melqart’ (mlqrtyh), and that the form ‘Carteia’ derived from its abbreviation.25 Secondly, there also exist certain literary traditions, in various forms, which identify the mythical Tartessus with both cities.26 We are still far from understanding the reasons behind this association, but it contributes nevertheless to highlighting the link between Gadir and Carteia. In sum, Carteia is the best option for the colony founded by the Gaditanians in Justin’s passage, considering the current state of knowledge on the subject. Moreover, this possibility is compatible with the move of the community settled in Cerro del Prado to the new site in the mid-​fourth century bce.27 It seems coherent to suggest that Gadir and its sanctuary of Melqart played an active role –​at least in the religious aspect of the process–​in the foundation of Carteia, so closely linked in literary tradition to Heracles, who we can clearly identify with Melqart. The specific meaning of the sacra Herculis mentioned by Justin remains unknown; it can either refer to the cult of the god or to certain sacred objects. Pomponius Mela (3.46) tells us that the sanctuary at Gades held the bones of Hercules, contributing to the theory which defends that Justin was describing the foundation of Gadir. Viewed differently, however, these references could coincide only in the nature of the theme; the events they describe could be different –​Pomponius Mela speaking of Gades and Justin of the colony founded by the Gaditanians. The latter possibility comes across as particularly extraordinary, because it implies the sacra were transported all the way from Tyre, when an important sanctuary to Melqart already existed in Gadir. Therefore, the Tyrian Melqart would have still wielded great influence over Gadir at a very advanced point in time, the fourth century bce. The thesis defending the prolonged continuity of relations between Gadir and Tyre was first suggested by M. Tarradell and later questioned by O. Arteaga, 24 25 26 27

Tsirkin 2007. Dietrich 1936, 15–​16; Millás Vallicrosa 1941, 317; Bonnet 1988, 231. Alvar Ezquerra 1989; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2007. Blánquez et al. 2009.

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who interpreted a marked break between the metropolis and the colony from the sixth century bce.28 Nevertheless, the first theory has recently regained strength.29 The survival of a close religious relationship between Gades and Tyre should not be surprising given the example of Carthage, where the traditional devotion to the Tyrian Melqart30 is recorded in 332 bce, when a group of delegates travelled to the metropolis ‘to celebrate an annual festival in the manner of their country; for the Tyrians founded Carthage and were always honoured as the forefathers of the Carthaginians’ (Curt. 4.2.10; transl. J.C. Rolfe). The devotion of the Carthaginians to the god of the ‘founding fathers’ increased dramatically during the siege of Agathocles in 310 bce (Diod. Sic. 20.14.1–​2). The identification of Carteia with the colony founded by the Gaditanians provides an important chronological landmark for the reconstruction of the historical sequence in the remaining episodes of Justin’s account. According to the new reading, in the second quarter of the fourth century bce, Gadir sponsored the foundation of a colony on the Bay of Algeciras, a city which was later to be known as Carteia, famed for its important port and defensive infrastructure. The reasons behind its foundation are not only rooted in the needs of the community of Cerro del Prado, but also in the interests of Gadir. It provides evidence for the commercial and demographic expansion of Gadir along the south-​western coast of Iberia, recorded for the fourth and beginning of the third centuries bce.31 After a period of development and success for the new community, a series of conflicts with the neighbouring peoples arose, resulting in hostilities against Gadir, the sponsor of the colony. One of the many aspects still to be clarified is the identity of these finitimi Hispaniae populi. The attack of neighbouring communities on the Gaditanians mentioned by Justin has been linked to a single event, striking and enigmatic, contained in the Saturnalia (1.20.12) of Macro­ bius. Here, Theron, rex Hispaniae citerioris, attacked a certain Herculis templum –​ in all probability the temple of Melqart in Gadir –​ although the attack ultimately failed, defeated by Gaditanian ships under dramatic circumstances. While this event has generally been placed, together with Justin’s episode, in the sixth century bce,32 J. Alvar has solidly argued for a fourth century bce 28 29 30 31 32

Tarradell 1967; Arteaga 1994; cf. Niveau de Villedary 2001. Bonnet 1988, 226–​228; Tsirkin 2007; Marín Ceballos and Jiménez Flores 2004; Marín Ceballos 2011. Elayi 1981. Sousa and Arruda 2010; Ferrer Albelda, García Fernández and Escacena 2010; Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010. Maluquer 1970, 48–​50; Del Castillo 1993; Aubet 2001, 344.

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chronology, identifying Theron as an Iberian kinglet from Contestania in the Spanish Levant. This episode would be one of the local outbreaks in the western Mediterranean, which should be linked to the treaty signed between Rome and Carthage in 348 bce.33 The new reading of Justin’s passage places the attack by neighbouring peoples on Gadir in the fourth century bce, strengthening its possible relationship to the Theron episode. In this case, the successful foundation of Carteia, a strategic point on the Strait of Gibraltar, would have led to regional tensions on a large scale, which resulted in the attack on Gadir. 4

Gadir, Carthage and the Tyrian Koiné

The attack by the ‘neighbouring peoples in Spain’ motivated a Carthaginian aid expedition, ultimately leading to the establishment of permanent bases on the Iberian Peninsula. The presence of Carthage in the area of the Strait of Gibraltar is recorded long before this event,34 although a military intervention in the mid-​fourth century bce would have led to a change in circumstances, with the arrival of a war fleet and sufficient ground forces to defeat the threat to Gadir. This Carthaginian intervention is viewed from different perspectives. Scholars such as E. Ferrer and R. Pliego have suggested that the aid provided by Carthage to Gadir responded to a treaty regulating the relationship between both states, dominated by the hegemony and patronage exerted by the north-​ African power over the Phoenician communities of Iberia.35 However, Carthaginian intervention is best understood as part of the ties of solidarity existing between the communities of the colonial diaspora, which recognized a common Tyrian origin, preserved in the devotion to Melqart bʿl ṣr, ‘Lord of Tyre’, as mentioned in the Phoenician text of the celebrated cippi of Malta (cis I, 122–​122 bis = kai 47).36 The foundation of the Gaditanian colony under the auspices of the Tyrian Melqart contributes to a breadth of evidence currently being reviewed by a series of scholars, such as C. Bonnet or G. Garbati, who have underlined the strength of the devotion to the Tyrian Melqart by communities of the Phoenician diaspora, during the fourth–​second centuries bce, long after the colonial period, in places such as Delos, Malta, Sardinia, Ibiza, and Carthage itself.37 33 34 35 36 37

Alvar Ezquerra 1986. Gutiérrez López et al. 2012. Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a, 2018. Bonnet 2009; Bonnet and Garbati 2009; Garbati 2012, 2015, (forthcoming).

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Different communities seem to have claimed a Tyrian origin in their devotion to the god of the ‘motherland’; this would explain why Gadir, when founding its own colony, invoked the intervention of the Tyrian Melqart. The participation of the god is represented in the oneiric oracle and in the transferal of certain sacra from the temple of the metropolis to the colony of the Gaditanians. Melqart would have acted as archegetes –​the epithet given to the god in the Greek text of the cippi from Malta –​as the founder of a new node in the network of the Tyrian koiné.38 The reconstruction of this episode of histoire événementielle, involving Gadir and Carthage in the fourth century bce, makes sense in the context of a common Tyrian identity. The text by Trogus/​Justin stresses this aspect when dealing with the Carthaginian aid to Gadir. The passage repeatedly alludes to the concept of consanguinitas, which united Gadir and Carthage through their common Tyrian origin: … the people of Gades brought the sacra of Hercules to Spain from Tyre (also the country of origin of the Carthaginians) … The Carthaginians therefore sent assistance to their relatives (Just. Epit. 44.5.2; translation adapted from J.C. Yardley 1994). First, it points out that both communities originated from Tyre (… Gaditani a Tyro, unde et Karthaginiensibus origo est …); then, it goes on to underline their kinship (Gaditanos … consanguineis Karthaginienses), as a background for explaining the Carthaginian expedition. While the traditional interpretation assumes a community of interest among the ‘Phoenicians’, evidence reveals a more specific identity framework, operating at a supra-​community level. This reinterpretation supports the existence of a thriving ‘Tyrian identity’ in the fourth century bce which linked different Phoenician communities, in this case Gadir and Carthage.39 Tyrian identity reveals itself as a framework for relations, based on the prestige of Melqart of Tyre as the god of the founding fathers of cities, such as Carthage, Utica, and, as has been suggested here, Carteia. These relations entailed consanguinitas, inter-​community fraternity, which also involved obligations in terms of aid and assistance in case of need. Tyrian consanguinitas was also present when Elissa and her followers arrived in Africa, for then ‘ambassadors 38 39

Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2018. Therefore, Tyrian identity does not specifically seem to distinguish western Phoenicians from Carthaginians. Vid. López Castro 2004; cf. Ferrer Albelda 2010a; Ferrer Albelda and Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2009.

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from the people of Utica brought the Tyrians gifts, recognizing them as their relatives (consanguineis) …’ (Just. Epit. 18.5.12; transl. J.C. Yardley 1994). This overarching identity became particularly active around the fourth century bce, a time marked by political instability across the Mediterranean, examples of which may be seen in the hostilities brought against the Gaditanians by its neighbouring communities, the siege and conquest of Tyre by Alexander in 332 bce, or the siege of Carthage by Agathocles in 310 bce. The call for inter-​ community solidarity in times of conflict seems to have sprung from a latent ethnic identity, based on a common Tyrian past.40 This fraternal relationship derived from the mutual recognition of a common Tyrian origin, which was strong enough to justify a Carthaginian expedition in assistance of Gadir. However, as will be seen below, the strength of this fraternity should not be idealized, particularly in the context of the evolving economic and political interests of both cities. The Carthaginian intervention in Iberia of the mid-​fourth century bce seems to have marked a point of inflection in the evolution of identity ties between the ancient colonies of Tyre. 5

The Carthaginians in Iberia: Fourth–​Third Centuries bce

According to Justin, ‘the Carthaginians both defended the people of Gades from aggression and also, by even greater aggression on their part, added an area of the country to their own empire’ (Just. Epit. 44.5.3).41 The passage suggests that, after supressing the attack on Gadir, the Carthaginians established a relatively stable domain in a certain part of Iberia. This possibility generates numerous questions, which are still currently unresolved. Among them, what was the nature of the first territorial establishment of Carthage in Iberia? What regions did it affect? How did the relationship between Carthage and Gadir evolve? How long did this domain last? Questions aside, the reinterpretation of Justin strengthens the credibility of Polybius, who, as mentioned at the beginning, tells of Carthaginian presence in Iberia before the arrival of Hamilcar in 237 bce. One of these references is found in a passage detailing the possessions of the Carthaginians shortly before the First Punic War in 265 bce: 40 41

Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2018. The term maiore iniuria is not found in the text preserved in the Epitome; it was introduced by F. Rühl, one of the first editors of the text, later reproduced in modern editions. Vid. López Castro 1992a, 234.

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But while fully alive to these points, they yet saw that Carthaginian aggrandisement was not confined to Libya, but had embraced many districts in Iberia as well; and that Carthage was, besides, mistress of all the islands in the Sardinian and Tyrrhenian sea (Polyb. 1.10.5; transl. E.S. Shuckburgh). If Carthage effectively took control of certain territories in Iberia before the Barcids, then information given by Diodorus should also be considered. He mentions that Carthage initiated the exploitation of mines in Iberia to finance campaigns in Sicily and Libya ‘… at the time when Iberia was among their possessions’ (Diod. Sic. 5.38.2; transl. C.H. Oldfather). Additionally, archaeological and numismatic evidence can now be reviewed in the light of this historical context. For example, R. Pliego and E. Ferrer have studied material remains of the period, paying particular attention to a Carthaginian coin assemblage from El Gandul (Alcalá de Guadaíra, Seville) which supports the presence of north-​African military in the Peninsula as of the mid-​ fourth century bce.42 This scenario also helps explain historical references to the presence of Iberian mercenaries in Carthaginian armies (Polyb. 1.17.4; Diod. Sic. 13.80.2).43 A stronger and more intense Carthaginian presence in the region certainly would help to explain the economic and demographic dynamics observed in south-​western Iberia as of the mid-​fourth century bce. These changes are explained by two factors: a process of Gaditanian expansion and the intensification of the economic projection of Carthage in the west.44 During the second half of the fourth century bce, the Gaditanian expansion process recorded on the Portuguese Algarve coast intensified, coinciding with the foundation of at least two new settlements, Faro and Monte Molião.45 A parallel process is observed in the surroundings of lacus Ligustinus, a wide estuary at the mouth of the Guadalquivir River present in the first millennium bce, where an exponential increase in Gaditanian products was recorded for the fourth century bce.46 Gaditanian expansion is also recorded in the colonization of its hinterland, with the foundation of rural settlements, such as Cerro Naranja, which were dedicated to the cultivation of olive trees and probably

42 43 44 45 46

Pliego Vázquez 2003b; 2003a; Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010; 2011; 2013. Fariselli 2002. López Castro 1992b, 2006; Ramón Torres 2006; López Pardo and Suárez 2002; Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 2013. Sousa and Arruda 2010. Ferrer Albelda, García Fernández and Escacena 2010.

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wine. P.A. Carretero associates these sites with Punic settlement patterns and suggests that they were populated by Carthaginian colonists.47 E. Ferrer and R. Pliego propose a historical sequence for this process, in line with the reinterpretation of Justin’s passage presented here, consisting of a first phase of Gaditanian expansion and an overlapping Carthaginian phase.48 The chronology of the foundation of Carteia allows us to link the terms of the second treaty between Rome and Carthage of 348 bce to the outcome of the first Carthaginian expedition in Justin’s passage. The new treaty expanded Carthage’s sphere of influence from what had been established in the late sixth century bce. Where once navigation and commerce had been limited beyond the Fair Promontory, Rome was now prohibited from trading, raiding or founding cities beyond the Fair Promontory and Mastia Tarseio (Polyb. 3.24.1–​2).49 The location of Mastia Tarseio in the Iberian Peninsula is generally accepted50 and the studies of E. Ferrer and M.L. de la Bandera51 have convincingly placed it in the proximity of the Strait of Gibraltar. The treaty addresses the Carthaginians, the people of Tyre and Utica, and their respective allies. Tradition linked the north-​African power with its metropolis and its neighbouring city, but the joint reference to these cities must also be understood in the context of the Tyrian koiné of the fourth century bce. There is, however, no specific reference to Gadir, even when the treaty directly affected its interests. This omission has been explained in various ways,52 including the unlikely possibility that the reference to the Tyrians was actually alluding to Gadir and the western Phoenicians.53 The existence of stable Carthaginian bases on the coast of south-​western Iberia could provide a context for a whole set of undated literary references to Carthaginian explorations, foundations and economic activity in the Atlantic, which could very well be ascribed to the mid-​fourth century bce.54 Such is the case with the information contained in the periplus of Pseudo-​ Skylax, usually dated to the 330s bce, which mentions at the beginning: ‘Past the Pillars of Heracles in Europe are many trading-​towns of the ­Karchedonioi …’ (transl. G. Shipley). At the end of the third century bce, Eratosthenes assured 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

Carretero 2007; cf. López Castro 1992b. Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010. Scardigli 1991. Contra Moret 2002. 1997; Ferrer Albelda 2008a. González Wagner 1994; Mederos and Escribano 2000. Tsirkin 1996; Koch 2001; López Castro 2004; cf. Ferrer Albelda and Álvarez Martí-​ Aguilar 2009. Ferrer Albelda 2008b.

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readers, according to Strabo, that the Carthaginians ‘would drown any foreigner who sailed past them to Sardo or the Pillars’ (Strab. 17.1.19; transl. D.W. Roller). On the other hand, Diodorus (5.20.1–​4) writes of an undated episode in which the Carthaginians thwarted an attempt by the Tyrrhenians to send a colony to an island previously discovered by the Phoenicians off the coast of Libya. There are three references to the Atlantic activity of Carthage in the pseudo-​ Aristotelian work De mirabilibus auscultationibus, the original core of which is dated to the mid-​late third century bce.55 The first (Mir. Ausc. 84) narrates the discovery of a deserted island by the Carthaginians in the ocean and their ploys so as not to reveal it (an account which coincides in part with the episode in Diod. Sic. 5.20.1–​4). The second (Mir. Ausc. 37) mentions the periplus of Hanno, telling of certain fires burning beyond the Pillars of Heracles. The third (Mir. Ausc. 136) speaks of Gaditanian tuna being commercialized and consumed by the Carthaginians. References to Libyphoenicians and Carthaginian colonists could also be factored into the historical context of the fourth century bce.56 This is the case of Avienus (fourth century ce) and Pseudo-​Scymnus (second century bce), who coincide in placing Carthaginian colonists and Libyphoenicians in Iberia. Avienus states that, much like the Tartessians before them, Carthaginian colonists and people around the Pillars of Hercules frequented the limits of the Oestrymnides (O. Mar. vv. 113–​116). He also maintains that the island of Erythia was at another time under Punic dominion, for it was Carthaginian colonists who first occupied it (O. Mar. vv. 310–​312), and that the Carthaginians possessed cities and villages on the European coast beyond the Pillars (O. Mar. vv. 375–​377). As for the Liby­ phoenicians, Avienus locates them in the area of the Pillars next to the Massieni, the realm of the Selbyssina and the Tartessians (O. Mar. vv. 420–​424). Pseudo-​ Scymnus (§195–​199) also speaks of the Libyphoenicians as a colony (apoikia) of Carthage on the coast of the Sardian Sea, near the Tartessians and Iberians. The possibility that Pseudo-​Scymnus based himself in Ephorus and the fact that Aristotle (Pol. 6.1320b) mentions Carthage sending population to its colonies, suggest that these events could be linked to Carthaginian presence in Iberia in the fourth century bce. The same may be said of the expeditions of Hanno and Himilco. The reinterpretation of Justin provides arguments which support a later chronology for

55 56

Pajón Leyra 2008. López Castro 1992b; cf. Domínguez Monedero 1995; Ferrer Albelda 2000; Jiménez Díez 2014.

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these famed journeys of maritime exploration,57 linking them to the above-​ mentioned references. The periplus of Hanno begins by stating that its mission was to found cities of the Libyphoenicians outside the Pillars of Heracles (Peripl. 1). The late chronology of these journeys is defended by those who link it to the rise of Carthage, as mentioned by Pliny (nh 2.169: et Hanno Carthaginis potentia florente …), dating it to the period between 348 bce and the First Punic War.58 After the initial call for aid, from the mid fourth century bce onwards, Carthaginian presence in Iberia, as regards areas of direct interest to Gadir, seems to have progressively marred the relationship between both communities, due to competition for economic resources in the Atlantic area.59 In terms of identity, the Gaditanians began to experience an important transformation. Their ancient, Tyrian origin, and even the figure of Melqart, seem to have been employed differently, to proclaim the uniqueness of their city as a form of resistance to the increasing imperialism displayed by Carthage. 6

The Loss and Recovery of Iberia

In Justin’s account, the annexation of territory closes the sequence on the first arrival of the Carthaginians to Iberia, after which begins the account of the second expedition, led by Hamilcar. As mentioned above, the starting words in the paragraph –​ Postea quoque … –​are considered to mark another omission of the original text from the Historiae Philippicae.60 Justin must have deleted content from the original account by Trogus relating to the period between the first Carthaginian expedition to aid the Gaditanians in the mid fourth century bce, and 237 bce. The period covers slightly over a century, still making it possible for a connection to exist between both campaigns, as established by the text. One of the most significant novelties in the reinterpretation of Justin is that the passage may be associated with another one by Polybius, relating to the arrival of Hamilcar in 237 bce: As soon as they had brought the Libyan war to a conclusion the Carthaginian government collected an army and despatched it under the 57 58 59 60

cf. González Ponce 2008, 78, n. 17. Euzennat 1994; Mederos and Escribano 2000; Mederos 2006. Mederos and Escribano 2000; Pérez Vilatela 2003. Castiglioni 1925, 3; López Castro 1992a, 224 ff.

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command of Hamilcar to Iberia. This general took over the command of the troops, and with his son Hannibal, then nine years old, crossing by the Pillars of Hercules, set about recovering (anektato) the Carthaginian possessions (prágmata) in Iberia (Polyb. 2.1.5; transl. E.S. Shuckburgh). The meaning of anektato and prágmata in connection to a military presence in Iberia before the Barcids has been very debated. After the work of C.R. Whittaker61 and the subsequent revision of the extent and nature of Carthaginian imperialism, there was reluctance to accept the text by Polybius and assume that the expedition of Hamilcar recovered a previously lost Carthaginian domain in Iberia.62 The new interpretation of Justin’s passage supports a literal reading of Polybius, connecting his prágmata with the pars provinciae taken by the Carthaginians, according to the Epitome. Therefore, the journey of Hamilcar would have been planned based on the precedent of a previous success, that is, the first aid expedition to Gadir in the mid fourth century bce. Both testimonies (Justin and Polybius) reinforce each other, contributing to the possibility of Carthage holding certain territorial possessions in Iberia before 237 bce and then losing them at some undetermined moment. There are no clear indications on the time and circumstances in which the Iberian prágmata escaped the control of Carthage. The clearest one is the already mentioned in the text by Polybius (1.10.15) listing Carthaginian domains at the break of the Second Punic War, among them ‘many districts in Iberia’. According to this information, the territories would have been lost sometime between 265 and 237 bce. This hypothesis was first put forth by A. García Bellido, who suggested dating the loss of Carthaginian possessions in Iberia to the Mercenary War (241–​238 bce), an event, which would have made it impossible to suitably defend territories in Iberia.63 Gadir may have played a part in the loss of control of Carthaginian domains in Iberia, a hypothesis which aligns with the approach viewing the relationship between Gadir and Carthage as gradually deteriorating as of the mid-​ fourth century bce.64 Direct Carthaginian military presence in the south of Iberia could have generated, in time, tension with Gadir and the other Phoenician communities of the Peninsula. The change in status quo, with Carthage 61 62 63 64

Whittaker 1978. González Wagner 1994; Barceló 2006. García Bellido 1942, 58–​60. Mederos and Escribano 2000; Pérez Vilatela 2003; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2006, 2012a; Chaves Tristán 2009.

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effectively installed in Iberia, would have undermined the traditional ties of fraternity inspired by a common Tyrian origin. A key reference is found in the defection of Utica and Hippacra, traditional allies of Carthage, during the Truceless War (Polyb. 1.82).65 The example of these two cities might be applicable to Gadir and other Phoenician sites in the west. They might have taken advantage of the Libyan insurrection to break free from Carthage, as a result of a gradual distancing since the First Punic War. Utica, like Gadir, was a ‘Tyrian sister’ of Carthage; fraternal ties between the two communities, based on a shared Tyrian origin, are recorded in the episode of Elissa’s arrival to Africa (Just. Epit. 18.5.12, vid. supra). However, according to Polybius (1.82), Utica and Hippacra exhibited an implacable hate against Carthage during the revolt. Gaditanian coins of this time period have been interpreted by F. Chaves as a claim of civic identity and independence from Carthage.66 Series ii A coins, classified by C. Alfaro Asins,67 are characterized by specific Gaditanian types, with the image of Melqart on the obverse and tuna on the reverse, and by a ‘Hispanic’ metrological standard of possible ancient Phoenician origin, all elements which sought to reflect the antiquity and prestige of the eastern heritage of the Gaditanians. F. Chaves associates this issue with a moment of relative independence in Gades, probably related to Carthage’s crisis after the defeat of the First Punic War and during the Libyan War. The arrival of Hamilcar in 237 bce could have led to confrontation with Gadir, as maintained in literary evidence. Diodorus described Hamilcar’s arrival briefly, though implies the taking of Gadir by Carthage: When Hamilcar was placed in command at Carthage he soon enlarged the empire of his country and ranged by sea as far as the Pillars of Herakles, Gadeira, and the ocean. Now the city of Gadeira is a colony of the Phoenicians, and is situated at the farthest extremity of the inhabited world, on the very ocean, and it possesses a roadstead. Hamilcar made war on the Iberians and Tartessians, together with the Celts … (Diod. Sic. 25.10.1; transl. F.R. Walton). Athenaeus Mechanicus (4.9.3) and Vitruvius (10.13) recorded a tradition, which credits the invention of the battering ram to a Tyrian craftsman, during the siege to a fortress in the initial stages of a Carthaginian attack on Gadir. 65 66 67

Hoyos 2007; 2010. Chaves Tristán 2009, 331 ss. Alfaro Asins 1988.

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Although a specific context has not been assigned to this episode, it should not be disregarded as possible evidence for confrontations between Carthage and Gadir in the Barcid period.68 This possibility is also supported by the reference in Diodorus to Hamilcar’s victory over the Tartessians, who also led a revolt against Hasdrubal in 216 bce (Livy 23.26.3–​6). The repeated association of the place-​name Tartessus and the ethnonym ‘tartesii’ with Gades during the Roman period,69 suggests that these references could be based on confrontations between Phoenician communities in Iberia and the Carthaginians, in a context of increasing estrangement which ultimately led to the defection of Gadir and its surrender, under favourable terms, to the Romans in 206 bce.70 Alliances during this period and the first years of Roman rule appear less conditioned by identity or cultural affinities and more by the economic and political interests of Carthage and of the urban elites of southern Hispania, both ‘Phoenician’ and ‘Iberian’, the best example of which is the relationship between Gadir and Rome. All of the above brought changes to ‘Tyrian’ identity narratives, which had been active in the fourth century bce. When in 206 bce, Mago, the last Carthaginian commander in Iberia, was denied entry into Gadir, he sent delegates to protest against the barring of the city gates to an ‘ally and friend’ (socius atque amicus; Livy, 28.37.1). The deterioration of relations between the Gaditanians and the Carthaginians seems to have put an end to claims of fraternity between both communities, based on ties of consanguinitas, leading to the development of a new rhetoric, which favoured policy over identity. 7

Epilogue: The Evolution of Tyrian identity

The reinterpretation of Justin’s passage provides a coherent historical context for recent research recording an intensification of Carthaginian presence in southern Iberia since the mid fourth century bce. Moreover, it inspires reflection on the ways the ‘Tyrian’ identity of the Gaditanians evolved through time, depending on the political circumstances. This revision opens numerous topics for debate in the future, among them: the possible confirmation of the Gaditanian origin of Carteia and the reasons for its foundation; the relationship between Gadir and Tyre in the fourth century bce and the influence of the Tyrian Melqart over the metropolis’ 68 69 70

Pérez Vilatela 2003; Mederos and Escribano 2000; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2006, 2012a. Alvar Ezquerra 1989; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2007, 2009, 2010; Moret 2011. López Castro 1991a; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012a.

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ancient colonies; the identity of the assailants of Gadir and everything relative to the Carthaginian aid expedition, their victory and the first establishment of the north-​Africans in Iberia; and finally, the circumstances surrounding the loss of the Carthaginian prágmata in Iberia, the role of Gadir in the process, the nature of Hamilcar’s expedition, and the estrangement of the fraternal relations within the Tyrian koiné. At any rate, Carthaginian presence in Iberia in the fourth century bce helps explain the intensity and complexity of the Phoenician –​including Carthaginian –​cultural substrate observed in Roman Turdetania.71 A close relationship between Gadir and Tyre in the mid-​fourth century bce would seem to stress the strength of religious and identity ties between the metropolis and the ancient colony in a much later period than what has been accepted until now. The connection between the sanctuaries of Melqart in Gades and Tyre in later periods should contribute to a better understanding of the god’s character in the West72 and its distinct role as a symbol of civic identity among the Gaditanians, which survived into the Roman era. Gades exemplifies the evolution of an identity framework based on the belief of a Tyrian origin. In the mid fourth century bce, Carthaginian aid to the Gaditanians was justified by ties of consanguinitas. However, after the arrival of the Barcids to Iberia, the ultimate Roman victory and the incorporation of Gadir into the fold of the new power, Tyrian identity changed and adapted to the new circumstances. In the Republican and Early Imperial periods, the elites in charge of the Gaditanian Melqart-​Heracles sanctuary seem to have exploited the connection with Tyre, which was especially prestigious due to the antiquity of its religious and cultural traditions. References to Gades in authors such as Posidonius (apud Strab. 3.5.5), Velleius Paterculus (1.2.3), Mela (3.46), or Pliny (nh 4.120) stress aspects such as the Tyrian origin of its foundation and the antiquity and importance of the temple of Heracles-​Hercules.73 These elements are synthesized and articulated into the image given of Turdetania in Book iii of Strabo’s Geography, where the Phoenician past of the region is linked to its high-​level culture and prosperity during the Roman period (Strab. 1.1.4; 3.2.13–​15).74 All these references seem to echo a narrative sponsored by the Gaditanian elites, based on the prestige conferred by an ancient Tyrian past, 71 72 73 74

Bendala Galán 1987; López Castro 1995; Jiménez Díez 2008, 2014; Ferrer Albelda 2010b; Mora Serrano and Cruz Andreotti 2012b; Machuca, in this same volume. Bonnet 1988; Marín Ceballos 2011. Bunnens 1979; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar and Ferrer Albelda 2009. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012b.

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prompted by the incorporation of Phoenicia into the Hellenistic koiné after Alexander,75 and destined to find a suitably illustrious place in the identity schemes in play under Roman rule. Tyrian identity therefore reveals itself as a fluid ethnic category, which served the interests of the Gaditanian elites in different ways throughout the history of the city. Tyrian origin was the foundation of relations with Carthage until the arrival of the north-​Africans in Iberia, and was later used to cement the prestige of Gades as a ciuitas, once a part of the Roman empire.

75

Millar 1983; Bonnet 2014.

Chapter 8

Unraveling the Western Phoenicians under Roman Rule: Identity, Heterogeneity and Dynamic Boundaries Francisco Machuca Prieto Traditional theories on ‘romanization’ defend that Rome’s occupation of Iberia after the victory of Publius Cornelius Scipio over the Carthaginians in 206 bce put an end to Phoenician presence in the Peninsula.* However, several authors have successfully proven the contrary in the last decades.1 The arrival of a new power to Iberia late in the third century bce brought with it a series of social, political, cultural and economic transformations, which spurred the creation of new identity frameworks among local communities, who tried to adapt to the Roman provincial world in the least traumatic way possible. In fact, there are many testimonies in the literary sources which speak of a progressive and intense displacement of the Phoenician communities of Iberia towards the interests and orbit of Rome, accompanied by the integration of urban oligarchies into the governmental structures imposed by the Romans. Strabo, for example, points out that Gades reached its height thanks to its staunch support of Rome.2 Furthermore, the geographer from Amaseia did not hide his satisfaction at the cultural and economic benefits enjoyed by Turdetania after Roman domination, the most civilized region in Iberia, where, according to his own words, there still lived many Phoenicians.3 Cicero, on the other hand, tells how, through the influence of Julius Caesar, the Gaditanian city abolished certain ‘barbarian’ ways from their customs and education.4 From this source it is deduced that for members of the Gaditanian elite, represented by Lucius Cornelius Balbus the Elder, it was very important to adapt their customs and * This paper is part of the work produced for the research group Estudios Historiográficos (hum 394), funded by the Junta de Andalucía (Spain). I would like to thank Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti for inviting me to participate in this book. 1 Koch 1976; Bendala Galán 1981, 1982, 1994; Tsirkin 1985; López Castro 1995, 2007b; Ferrer Albelda 2012b; Machuca Prieto 2017. 2 Strab. 3.1.8; 3.5.3. 3 Strab. 3.2.13. On the artificial and idealized image of Turdetania, created by Strabo, as a historical geographical product, see Cruz Andreotti 2007. 4 Cic. Balb. 43.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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laws to the Roman style. Let us not forget that Caesar himself awarded Roman citizenship to the inhabitants of Gades in 49 bce,5 which de facto meant the conversion of the city into a municipium civium romanorum, and the end of the administrative order inherited from the Punic period. Archaeological evidence for the same time period in the surroundings of the Bay of Cádiz and the lands watered by the Guadalquivir River, as well as the main cities of Andalusia’s coast, such as Carteia, Malaca, Sexi or Abdera, show a strong ‘Phoenician component’ during the Republican and Early Imperial periods, which seems to contradict the literary sources mentioned above. The intention is therefore to analyse what a priori seems like a contradiction by looking at identity and ethno-​cultural factors which have not been sufficiently considered until now. The gradual adoption of new perspectives on identities by historians and archaeologists in the last decades has opened an array of possibilities on how to approach processes of identity construction and reconstruction in the Ancient world.6 These approaches are slowly overcoming traditional, yet still extant, historicist accounts, which are characterized by positivistic views, a non-​critical, passive acceptance of Graeco-​Roman sources, and essentialist readings of material culture based on the assimilation between ethnic group and archaeological culture. Traditional approaches in both archaeology and history have neglected to apply any kind of contextual interpretation to the circumstances surrounding the creation of certain material culture or texts, which have for many years been used to identify and define past ethnic identities as boxed into a restrictive framework. The south of the Iberian Peninsula is an exceptional area for the study of ancient ethnicity. By the end of the second millennium bce, southern Iberia, which would later become Roman Baetica, comprised, from an ethnic point of view, a dynamic and complex reality forged by successive political, social and cultural transformations over the previous ten or so centuries. It is therefore useless to continue pidgeonholing populations into bounded identity categories when many of them, such as the Phoenicians, had been occupying southern Iberia from at least the ninth century bce.7 5 6 7

Cass. Dio 41.24.1; Livy Per. 110. Shennan 1989; Jones 1997; Hall 1997, 2002; James 1999; Siapkas 2003; Roymans 2004; and Mora 2004; Díaz-​Andreu et al. 2005; Insoll 2007; Fernández Götz 2008; Cardete del Olmo 2009; Fernández Götz, and Ruiz Zapatero 2011; Revell 2016; Johnston 2017. Various finds in the last years have questioned the existing chronologies for the settling of Iberia by the Phoenicians. At the beginning of the century, a ‘Phoenician emporium’ was identified in Huelva, with great quantities of artefacts originating from Phoenicia, Cyprus, Greece and Sardinia dating to 900–​770 bce. Recent discoveries in the so-​called ‘Teatro Cómico’ in Cádiz have traced the earliest arrival of Phoenicians back to the early ninth century bce. See González de Canales, Serrano, and Llompart 2006 for the Huelva

132 Machuca Prieto In fact, communities of Phoenician tradition settled along Andalusia’s coast and the Guadalquivir Valley during the Late Iron Age, should be considered ‘native’, even before the outbreak of the conflict between Rome and Carthage in 218 bce. In other words, after eight hundred years of continued presence, Phoenician communities should not be seen as ethnically foreign at the moment of Rome’s arrival to Iberia in the last decades of the third century bce, although this has been the version transmitted by traditional Spanish scholarship, which strictly separated indigenous populations  –​Tartessians and their assumed successors, the Turdetani –​from ‘colonizing’ populations of Semitic origin. Such a division is not reflected in classical authors, whose ethno-​geographical descriptions do not distinguish them, nor do they differentiate between ‘Phoenician’ and ‘Punic’.8 This does not mean that the first Canaanites to arrive on Iberia’s coastline between the ninth and eighth centuries bce were not colonists; however, their descendants should not be seen as foreigners any longer. Phoenician communities in Iberia were far from homogenous. Despite sharing the same language and religion, which were undoubtedly important as references for their identity, Phoenicians were politically, culturally and even ethnically diverse from the very beginning of their colonization.9 Late Iron Age Phoenician cities grouped together the descendants of the Mediterranean diaspora –​Tyrians, Sidonians, Arvadians, Cypriots, Greek merchants, etc. –​but also significant contingents of population of local origin, since processes of hybridization, demographic mixing and assimilation were significant from an early stage.10 In this sense, Gadir’s decision to issue its own coinage from the third century bce onwards, must be seen as a message of civic and ethnic differentiation.11 Although this phenomenon first took place in Gadir –​as well as in Ebusus –​other cities of Phoenician origin decided to issue coinage after the Roman conquest, such as Malaca, Sexi and Abdera. Phoenician póleis reacted differently from each other when confronting, first the Carthaginian, and later the Roman conquests, proving that they functioned independently, in a clear attempt at maintaining their civic identities in moments of danger. For example, while Baria remained loyal to Carthage and resisted the forces

8 9 10 11

case; Gener Basallote et al. 2014 for Cádiz. Phoenician presence has also been recorded on the Bay of Málaga as early as the second half of the ninth century bce at La Rabanadilla; see Arancibia Román et al. 2011. Bunnens 1983; Ferrer Albelda 1996b, 1998; Prag 2006, 2014. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar and Ferrer Albelda 2009; cf. López Castro 2004. Belén Deamos and Escacena Carrasco 1995; González Wagner 2004, 2011; Delgado Hervás 2008. Chaves Tristán 2009.

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of Publius Cornelius Scipio for three days,12 Gadir surrendered under very favourable conditions, as evidenced in the concession by Rome of an extremely privileged foedus in 206 bce. Although General Mago considered the city an ally and friend,13 it was occupied during the Second Punic War by Carthaginian troops, led by a praefectus.14 On the other hand, cities on the Mediterranean coast, which probably participated in the ‘Tartessian revolt’ of 216 bce against Carthage, did not receive the same favourable treatment as Gadir, and became stipendiary cities after their surrender. Did they initially resist Rome, subsequently losing their independence? Once essentialist views on identities were overcome, after years of dominance within Spanish academia, an increasing number of scholars began regarding ethnicity as a process.15 Identities do not arise naturally and are always subject to change; it is therefore difficult to conceive of ethnic groups as remaining stable through time. It is problematic to continue viewing Phoenician culture in southern Iberia as uniform, after almost a millennium of recorded presence. According to postcolonial thought, identity is generally constructed, both through mechanisms of self-​definition and hetero-​perception. This construction is particularly evident in colonial contexts: the identity of the colonized is often greatly conditioned by the perception of the colonizer.16 The metropolis usually plays a maternal and protecting role, as expressed in such formulaic terms as ‘motherland’. The arrival of Rome to Iberia brought a new territorial organization, which changed the ethnic map of the Peninsula, just as it had changed previously due to the increasing Carthaginian presence since the fourth century bce,17 culminating in the arrival of Hamilcar Barca to Gadir in 237 bce. These events set the stage for the following discussion. 1

The Phoenicians of Iberia, between Carthage and Rome

Until well into the twentieth century, a primarily negative view of the Carthaginians predominated in European literature. Carthage was perceived as a covetous and aggressive imperialistic power, only interested in Iberia to expand its territory and economy through direct military control and the establishment

12 13 14 15 16 17

Gell. 6.1.8. Livy 28.37.2. Livy 28.23.7; 28.30.4. See, for example, García Fernández 2007 and Cardete del Olmo 2009. Fanon 1952; Said 1978. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a.

134 Machuca Prieto of a commercial network dependent on the metropolis, just as in Sicily and Sardinia. Schulten’s pro-​Greek theories are well known. He blamed the assumed destruction of Tartessus towards the end of the sixth century bce on the Carthaginians, who he described as ‘sinister successors’ of the Tyrians.18 The scenario changed in the 1980s, due to the influence of C.R. Whittaker in particular.19 The contribution of new, 1970s approaches, such as New Archaeology processualism and French structuralism, also left an imprint on Spanish thought, as did the diverse range of postmodern theories which reacted against both of these, at a time when a new generation of scholars were uncovering large amounts of archaeological data and critically reviewing Graeco-​ Roman texts.20 The traditional thesis saw Carthage as exerting military, territorial and economic control over Iberia long before the arrival of Hamilcar in 237 bce, while new views dismantled the idea of a Carthaginian Empire in favour of a commercial administration by Carthage through the establishment of emporia, treaties and free alliances. Such a system would allow for Carthage to guarantee commercial exchange and the protection of fleets, rendering the Phoenician cities of Iberia politically and economically dependent upon it.21 However, some authors still defend a significant Carthaginian presence in Iberia before the arrival of the Barcids, although no longer adhering to Schulten’s extreme views. They defend the existence of an active colonizing policy and a direct economic exploitation of Iberia’s rich fishing, mining and human resources, the latter for mercenary troops.22 Scholars are therefore divided into two extreme approaches. Therein lies the problem with drastic positions: the role played by Carthage in Iberia should not be exaggerated, but neither should it be diminished to the point of practically negating its presence until the arrival of Hamilcar. Such an extreme position may be understood as a reaction to racist theses on the violent destruction of Tartessus at the hands of a hostile Carthaginian Empire, characterized for many years as a barbarian, covetous and pitiless people, consumed by envy, a view persistent in anti-​Semitic interpretations since the Middle Ages. Recently, some scholars have begun to revive the hypothesis that Carthage intensified its interests in Iberia during the 18 19

20 21 22

Schulten 1924, 66. This British scholar defended that, at least during the initial phase of Carthage’s expansion throughout the Mediterranean, Sicily showed no evidence of the necessary conditions for an ‘imperial occupation’ in the classic sense of the term: territorial annexation, a provincial administrative apparatus, tax collection, commercial monopoly, control of foreign affairs and control of agricultural exports. See Whittaker 1978. López Castro 1994a, 523–​24; Ferrer Albelda 2002–​03, 15. See following note. González Wagner 1984, 1985, 1994; Barceló 2006; López Castro 1991c, 1991b. For example, Aubet 1986; Bendala Galán 1982, 1994; De Frutos 1991.

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third and fourth centuries bce, at least from an economic perspective.23 As a result, relations between the north-​African power and Gadir during these two centuries would have evolved into an increasing rivalry over the commercial control of the Atlantic, as opposed to the eternal friendship and trust generally assumed when considering their common ethnic ties.24 The idea that Carthage intensified its presence and interests in the far west as of the fourth century bce is not incompatible with the hegemonic model.25 In the Iberian Peninsula, the Carthaginian epikrateia spread gradually. Communities of Andalusia’s interior exerted pressure on the Phoenician allies on the coast, particularly Gadir, endagering the interests of Carthage.26 Two literary references speak of an attack on Gadir by nearby populations.27 Through the protection stipulated in the treaties between Carthage and the Phoenician cities –​perhaps also with Iberian cities –​the north-​Africans secured supplies in metal, salted fish and mercenaries. The point of inflection was certainly the Roman-​Carthaginian treaty of 348 bce. An increase in Rome’s economic activities and piracy in the western Mediterranean drove Carthage to tighten the terms of the second treaty, prohibiting Romans from navigating, trading or founding cities beyond Mastia Tartesion.28 As the hegemonic power, Carthage could legislate in the name of its allies situated in the area of the Strait of Gibraltar. The international governing role played by Carthage did not, in principal, undermine the political autonomy of the Andalusian coastal póleis. However, as time passed, the Phoenician cities of the southern Mediterranean, although still allies, began to be against the greater control exerted by Carthage, at least as of the fourth century bce. The aid offered by Carthage became an imposition, a heavy load from which the cities could not withdraw. 23 24 25 26

27 28

López Pardo and Suárez 2002; Ferrer Albelda 2007; Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a. Mederos and Escribano 2000. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2006; 2012a, 774. Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 551–​53. The fact that Mago considered himself a socio atque amico of Gadir (Livy 28.37.2) indirectly points at the existence of an alliance treaty between Carthage and Gadir. This does not mean that there was a symmetric political relationship between the two cities. Such a treaty would have been very similar to the ones established between the north-​African city and Rome, when Rome’s political and military status was still not comparable to that of Carthage, not when the first treaty was signed in 509 bce (Polyb. 3.22) and still not when the second one was signed in 348 bce (Polyb. 3.24). On the different Roman-​ Carthaginian treaties, see Scardigli 1991. For the Gaditanian foedus of 206 bce, it is essential to read López Castro 1991a. Just. 44.5.1–​5; Macr. Sat. 1.20.12. Polyb. 3.24.2 locates Mastia and Tarseio in Iberia, two coastal regions of the Andalusian Mediterranean. See García Moreno 1990; Ferrer Albelda 2006; cf. Moret 2002.

136 Machuca Prieto The increased presence of the north-​African power in the westernmost Mediterranean could have been accompanied by the establishment of military infrastructure,29 causing commercial and political friction with allies. In this new context, Gaditanian commerce would have been seriously affected towards the mid fourth century bce by the dispositions in the second Roman-​Carthaginian treaty, which established the Carthaginians as the only middle-​men in the trade of garum and tin with the eastern and central Mediterranean.30 Situations of tension are ideal for the activation of certain mechanisms of ethnic identity affirmation. Humans are not born with an identity; we progressively gain consciousness of identity. It is the result of a fluid and constant process, conditioned by history and change; it is based on the similarities and differences we perceive in the surrounding people.31 Therefore, it is possible for identities to be constructed more in terms of ‘where we are going’ than ‘where we come from’. They constitute a strategic positioning. However, individual or collective identity affirmation does not happen on its own; it only takes place when such resources as history, language and traditions are used for this purpose. A fictitious and symbolic classification comes into play, based on the double recognition of self and otherness, which consciously or unconsciously operates on the individual, jointly with the discursive effects or the political capacity of identity, making the process completely unavoidable. Similarities and differences may be imagined, but are never imaginary.32 In fact, the moment two or more human groups compete, tensions arise –​war, fights for resources, migrations –​this is when ethnic identities emerge most strongly, as shown by various authors.33 Ethnicity is one of the many identity lines that intersect in a person or a human group;34 it emerges especially in situations 29

30

31 32 33 34

More than permanent armies, as would end up happening in Sicily, the military presence of Carthage in southern Iberia could have become effective through the establishment of selected garrisons in strategic locations, such as El Gandul, which controlled the fertile valley of Guadalquivir from the vast plateau of Los Alcores, keeping its most important town, Carmo, under supervision. Pliego Vázquez 2003a; Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 539. Mederos, and Escribano 2000, 91–​7. The rivalry between Gadir and Carthage is reflected in the navigator Hannon’s expedition to the Atlantic. Although it has been traditionally dated to the sixth century bce, both authors suggest that the journey took place after the second treaty between Rome and Carthage in 348 bce, when the Tunisian power, having ratified its hegemony, felt confident in expanding and controlling the oceanic commercial routes. Also Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2014a. Hall 1996; Hernando 2002; Jenkins 2008, 17. Jenkins 1997, 168. Hall 2002, 10; Cardete 2009; Fernández Götz and Ruiz Zapatero 2011. Díaz-​Andreu et al. 2005.

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in which it is directly addressed, when the self-​definition of a group becomes utterly necessary: conflict, crisis, encounters or transformation. Gadir and the other Phoenician-​Punic communities of southern Iberia probably took advantage of the problems faced by Carthage after the First Punic War:  the Mercenary War, the defections of Utica and Bizerte and the definite loss of Sardinia in 238 bce –​all attempts at lessening the control of Carthage, exerted increasingly for at least a century.35 Ethnicity, according to new, constructivist approaches, requires the existence of a political power to formalize, promote and maintain identity claims in terms of genealogy and territory as sustained by the collective.36 Polybius tells us that after re-​establishing normality in Africa, Hamilcar ‘taking with him his army and his son Hannibal now about nine years of age, he crossed the straits of Gibraltar and applied himself to subjugating Spain to the Carthaginians’.37 The Greek historian thus leads us to understand that the Carthaginians exerted their control over an unspecified area of Iberia before 237 bce, although after some time they ceased to do so. Nothing is said on how, when or why Carthage lost this control. Hence, the accuracy of such a text must be questioned, as well as another passage, in which the historian mentions Carthaginian territorial possessions in Iberia as one of the causes of the First Punic War.38 A couple of scholars have been reluctant to accept the information given by the historian from Megalopolis, considering the propagandistic nature of his work in favour of the Scipios.39 Nevertheless the hypothesis offered above opens a new interpretative path for both textual references. If the relations with the Phoenician cities of southern Iberia deteriorated to the point of confrontation, Carthage may have eventually lost its territories and interests in the region, leading to the arrival of Hamilcar Barca in 237 bce to recover them. There is a surprising reference in this regard, transmitted by two authors of the second half of the first century bce, which mentions the use of the battering ram during a siege on Gadir by the Carthaginians.40 Very few scholars accept the idea of a Cathaginian attack on Phoenician Gadir, since this would imply an illogical fratricidal confrontation. However, the territorial occupation deployed by the Barcids could have very well caused confrontation with Gadir, the head of the Semitic world in Iberia, as well as with other

35 36 37 38 39 40

Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012a, 2014a. Cardete del Olmo 2009, 32. Polyb. 2.1.5–​6. Polyb. 1.10.5. González Wagner 1994, 12; Barceló 2006, 113–​14. Ath. Mech. 4.9.3; Vitr. 10.13.1–​2. See Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2006.

138 Machuca Prieto

Figure 8.1 Silver unit from the mint of Gadir (Alfaro Asins 1988, series ii.A.1); Chronology: 23–​206 bce. Obverse: head of Melqart with lion skin looking left and club on right shoulder. Reverse: Tuna on right, above and below Punic legend mhlm/​‘gdr. photograph: sng españa (man 1993/​6 7/​1 31); 4,74 g, 18,10 mm.

Phoenician communities in the far west.41 This reference points at a military confrontation sometime between 237 bce and the Second Punic War. It is well known that the Gaditanians, perceiving the imminent defeat of Carthage, did not hesitate to close their city doors on their ‘ally’ Mago, defecting to the side of the Romans, with whom they signed a very favourable surrender.42 Gaditanian coinage of the third century bce seems to contain an ethnic component aimed at reflecting differentiation from Carthage. Bronze coinage from Gadir followed the metrological pattern of Carthage and did not stray from the hegemonic models, though from early on certain nuances were introduced that gradually marked a clear difference from the Carthaginian norm.43 Minting is in itself an act of local re-​affirmation and independence. 41

42 43

This idea is supported by Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar (2007, 2009, 2010, 2012a), who defends that the ethnonym ‘Tartessian’ refers to essentially Phoenician populations. In fact, it is a name used by Diodorus Siculus (15.10.1) when speaking of the southern Iberian communities, who confronted the Carthaginians in the Guadalquivir Valley immediately after their disembarkation at Gadir in 237 bce. The tartesii are also mentioned by Livy (23.26.5) in his narration of the mutiny of Hasdrubal’s fleet prefects in 216 bce. Cicero even called the Gaditanian consul Lucius Cornelius Balbus ‘Tartessian’ towards the mid first century bce (Att. 7.3.11). Livy 28.37.2; 32.5.2. Chaves Tristán 2009, 348.

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Furthermore, silver issues, which began with the arrival of the Barcids,44 introduced very specific ethnic references. They not only followed local models but also included the legends mhlm/​’gdr and MP’L/​’gdr, translated as ‘coin of Gadir’ or ‘coinage of the citizens of Gadir’ (Figure 8.1), in a clear affirmation of their civic identity, which was not common for the Punic sphere. The defeat of Carthage in the First Punic War was an appropriate moment, as reflected in coinage, for Gadir to reinforce its independence and consolidate core elements of its identity, most importantly the cult to Melqart and the city’s maritime and commercial vocation. Similarly, during the Second Punic War, the communities of Iberia may have decided not to side completely with Carthage –​at least not unconditionally –​even though widespread scholarly opinion supports the strength of their identity ties, rooted in a common Tyrian origin and cultural koiné. In fact, the surrender of Gadir to the Romans under favourable conditions and the Tartessian revolt, in which the Phoenician coastal cities of Andalusia were probably involved,45 point precisely in this direction: the relations between the Carthaginians and the Semitic communities of the far west were not always stable or on good terms throughout the conflict with Rome. There was no common policy of the Phoenician póleis towards the conflict, showing that there was no unique Phoenician identity, but several. The civic framework played a fundamental role in the configuration of these multiple and overlapping identities among the Phoenician communities of southern Iberia. The following section will expand on this topic. 2

Identity/​Identities among the Phoenicians of Iberia as of 206 Bce

As discussed above, the arrival of Rome to Iberia brought great changes. In 197 bce, Iberia was divided into two provinciae, Ulterior and Citerior, governed by praetors, although a bipartite political structure probably already existed in some form as of Scipio. However, the transformations that took place from the last decades of the third century bce were not only political, but also economic and intensely cultural. Even so, Phoenician communities show great continuity in the archaeological record and it is not until the end of the Republican period that significant transformations are noted. The first conclusion to be extracted is that Phoenicians began their political integration early on, led by their elites, who were eager to consolidate their hegemonic position among

44 45

Mora Serrano 2007, 417. Corzo Sánchez 1975; López Castro 2000b; Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012a, 785.

140 Machuca Prieto their own communities in the frame of the new structures of power, though they were always careful to maintain their idiosyncrasy as much as possible, trying not to lose their cultural traits. Furthermore, the Romans are known for having allowed flexible mechanisms of cultural integration, as long as the subdued communities accepted their economic and jurisdictional hegemony. In a context previously marked by the heterogeneity of ethnic identities, Rome continued to rely on the cities for administrative purposes, which was very positive for the legitimation of Phoenician-​tradition elites. As in northern Iberia, the south was also subjected to control strategies, which transcended the limits of the civitas. As demonstrated by Cruz Andreotti in various studies on Strabo’s Turdetania, an ‘ethnic group’ during the first two centuries of Roman rule was an imposed framework, based on perceived affinities and more or less similar traditions, aimed at covering vacuums in the Roman administrative structure.46 Let us remember this was a region with a significant Phoenician demographic component, as recorded by Strabo. However, the ethnic name ‘Phoenician’ was barely used in early imperial ethno-​geographic divisions. So, what was going on? Greek and Roman authors must have called Phoenicians in Iberia by other names, the most common being Bastuli, but there were also other mixed ethnonyms, such as Blasto-​Phoenicians or Blasto-​poenos.47 Álvarez, on the other hand, believes that the name ‘Tartessians’ was linked specifically to the area of the Strait of Gibraltar and the lower Guadalquivir, characterized by a strong Phoenician influence, so ‘Tartessians’ would also be an alternative name used to identify the people living there during the Roman period.48 The fact that such a name remained in use at the turn of the era may be explained in terms of identity. While Rome established itself in Iberia, Phoenician communities developed identity strategies and mechanisms of self-​recognition, using their history as the main legitimating factor. This does not mean that the civic framework ceased to be operative in the construction of identities, but after Rome’s arrival a new, complementary line for this process came into play. Although each city adopted different forms of identity affirmation, it seems quite clear that any new identity/​identities were related to the creation and re-​elaboration of histories, myths, legends and traditions on the origin of Phoenician communities. Melqart, the main Tyrian god, became central to the 46 47 48

Cruz Andreotti 2007, 2009b, and 2011, 220–​21. On this subject, see the contribution of Ferrer Albelda in this same volume, as well as arguments exposed in previous work (1996b, 1998, 2011a, and 2012b; with Álvarez Martí-​ Aguilar 2009). See n. 41.

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Figure 8.2 Bronze sestertius from Gades (Alfaro Asins1988, series vii.A.1); Chronology: c. 19 bce. Obverse: head of Hercules-​Melqart with lion skin looking left with club on shoulder. Reverse: legend reads as pont balbvs, with pontifical knife, simpulum and axe. photograph: sng españa (man 1993/​6 2/​7 52); 35,47 g, 36,90 mm.

process. The tutelary divinity appears until the Imperial period in the most prominent Gaditanian coin types, both as an ethnic reference and an urban emblem, generally accompanied by the depiction of tuna or dolphins, which represented abundance in maritime resources and the commercial ancestry of the city (Figure 8.2). The effigy of Melqart was also present on the obverse of coins from Sexi and Abdera until well into the first century bce. The reason for using such an iconography would be to reinforce the great antiquity of these foundations. Moreover, the first coin legends in Latin did not appear until Augustus, and even then, Melqart’s head was still depicted for some time on obverses, as seen in the sestertii and dupondii of the series vii.a 1 and 2, issued around 19 bce by Balbus the Younger to commemorate his pontificate.49 The Phoenician imprint on Roman Gades of the second and first centuries bce is also observable in funerary contexts, with many examples giving evidence for cultural continuity in rituals, grave goods and burial types.50 A similar tendency in Phoenician continuity can be seen in other cities of southern Iberia, such as Baelo Claudia, where, as in Gades, many graves were covered by a memorial stone or stela in the form of a Baetylus; in Carmo, for example, the early

49 50

Alfaro 1988, 154. See Figure 8.2. Vaquerizo Gil 2010, 147; Arévalo González 2011–​2012.

142 Machuca Prieto imperial cemetery lacked any of the typical Roman terra sigillata and instead displays north-​African funerary iconography, as found in the Tomb of the Elephant.51 On the other hand, the discovery of pools used in the fish-​salting industry as of the second century bce onwards in the area of the Bay of Cádiz and in the urban centres of Málaga and Almuñécar (ancient Sexi) indicate that the economic structure of the Phoenician cities did not undergo substantial transformations with the arrival of the Romans. Several scholars have followed this line to assert that towards the mid second century bce there existed a ‘Punic cultural renaissance’,52 permeating both ideological realms and daily life. In recent years, several censers with the form of female heads have been unearthed at the Republican cemetery of Gades, with late chronologies (Group 2 of the Calle Troilo kiln).53 These finds were locally produced and different from the original Carthaginian prototypes, which had previously served as models for the moulds used for Group 1 artefacts, also present at the Gaditinian cemetery. These censers (Figure 8.3) were clearly religious and funerary in function, connecting with Phoenician-​Punic traditions prior to the Roman conquest. On the other hand, Group 2 censers provide evidence for a significant local production; they were not mere re-​interpretations of ancient types. In sum, archaeological contexts are hybrid, created by mutual influences, cultural contact through different generations, and the reformulation and/​or adoption of new cultural meanings, which enabled the Phoenician native population of Iberia to play an active role in the hegemonic Roman culture. Continuity in iconography and symbolism, shown in coinage and funerary contexts, points at the preservation of traditions of Phoenician origin in cities, such as Gades or Baelo, directly related to processes of identity creation and re-​ elaboration. As cities of southern Iberia fully joined the Roman world through munificence and urban transformations late in the first century bce, material culture and funerary practices still clung to Phoenician customs, suggesting that certain ethnic identity markers were still active as part of an open, heterogeneous and dynamic context. Gades, Malaca, Abdera and Sexi continued to be Phoenician cities after falling into the Roman orbit at the end of the third century bce. Graffiti from these cities show that Punic was still written and spoken until the Imperial period,54 meaning that Phoenician communities were 51 52 53 54

Bendala Galán 1976; Jiménez Díez 2007. Niveau de Villedary and Martelo 2014. Niveau de Villedary 2011, 287–​91. Gran-​Aymerich 1991, 93–​4; Molina Fajardo 1986, 208. The Phoenician language also continued being used in the Andalusian interior, as evidenced by the discovery of a Neo-​Punic inscription dated to the second century bce, found in Alcalá del Río –​Ilipa Magna–​ (Zamora et al. 2004). See Fig. 8.4.

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Figure 8.3 Censer shaped like a female head from the Calle de Troilo kiln in Cádiz. A: series 1 censer; B: series 2 censer. drawings by a.m. niveau de villedary (2011, figs. 6 and 8).

still relevant at a time when Hispania, and Baetica in particular had already been under Roman rule for some time. The integration of Phoenician communities into the Roman world was not necessarily linked to imitating ‘Roman ways’. As of the second century bce, a revival of Phoenician culture flourished in southern Iberia, not as a reaction against Rome, but more as a ‘Phoenician way of being Roman’. Identity constructions based on very ancient Phoenician pasts took place in a Roman context, led by elites, who sought to secure a favourable position in the new order. They revived and claimed ancient origins

144 Machuca Prieto and traditions as a way of bestowing honour and prestige to their group as part of a Hellenistic cultural and ideological context. It is then, and not before, that Graeco-​Roman literature became preoccupied with the origin and history of western Phoenician foundations, assigning particular interest to establishing which one was the oldest.55 In colonial contexts, such as Roman Hispania, it is extremely difficult to establish a division between colonizers and colonized. The separation is constantly being negotiated along a changing and diffused boundary, resulting in a series of cultural mixes and hybrids.56 Postcolonial thought, applied to ancient history and archaeology, also breaks with traditional conceptions on ‘romanization’, generally understood as a one-​way cultural transfer or as a gradual acculturation process, which culminated in the acquisition of the ‘Roman essence’ by the subdued communities. We can no longer accept today that all cultural forms described as ‘Roman’ actually originated from Rome itself.57 One of the great contributions of postcolonial thought to studies on the ancient world is the refutation of the unity and homogeneity of Roman culture. In this sense, it is important to conceive of imperial culture as ‘structured systems of differences’,58 with multiple variations according to the region, social class, age and gender. ‘Romanization’ is a much more complex process than the straightforward substitution of one culture for another; it created hybrid forms of culture at a local level. Phoenician communities were fully immersed in the complex interplay of identity integration and opposition, which fed the ideological structure of the Roman Empire. They constructed their own narratives on identity, based on a ‘Phoenician past’ and identifiably ‘Phoenician’ cultural elements, aimed at securing a good position in the Roman political system. These new, strongly Phoenician, civic identities did not, however, exclude or oppose Roman identity; they were part of the complex showcase of identities undergoing constant re-​definition, which together maintained the imperial structure. Most Greek and Latin literary sources on the Phoenician colonization of the far west are chronologically detached from the historical events they describe. Dated from the second century bce onwards, they transmit information on recurring themes, such as the origins of Gadir, the importance of the Gaditanian temple to Melqart and the commercial vocation of the Phoenicians, who sailed from the opposite end of the Mediterranean, attracted by metal resources. This 55 56 57 58

Vell. Pat. 1.2.3; Strab. 3.5.5; Plin. hn 16.216; 19.63. Bhabha 1994; Van Dommelen 2006. Gosden 2008. Woolf 1997, 341

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Figure 8.4 Potsherds (two Campanian type A and one red slip ware) from the Roman theatre in Malaca. These potsherds are dated to the second century bce and early first century ce. composition by f. machuca after drawings by gran-​aymerich 1991, 291.

recurrence in themes was not due to historical reality, but to the image held of the past by the inhabitants of Gades, particularly by the elites, during the Roman Republic and Early Empire, on which they built their own values and interests.59 The propaganda campaign launched by Augustus was rooted in a Hellenistic cultural context in which political legitimacy was always based on the past, traditions and ancestors. It has been recently suggested that the positive image of the Phoenicians portrayed in Strabo’s Geography, described as culturally refined and successful transmitters of civilization, was actually adopted by the communities of Phoenician origin or influence as part of their new identity framework because they needed to politically reassert themselves in the Roman world as inheritors of an ancient and prestigious culture.60 Meanwhile, on the other side of the empire, Philo of Byblos was writing his Historia Phoenicia, which proudly extolled the cultural superiority of ancient Phoenicians over the Greeks, in an attempt at enhancing his own Phoenician identity in a Roman political context during the first and second centuries.61

59 60 61

Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar and Ferrer Albelda 2009. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012b. Bohak 2005.

146 Machuca Prieto Behind the image of homogeneity constructed by Greek and Roman authors, based on certain cultural affinities, lay a much more diverse and changing reality. However, through the centuries, this image was internalized even by the colonized themselves, who sought to differentiate themselves from other contemporary identities. If the reaction towards the Carthaginian presence varied among the Phoenician communities of southern Iberia, the same happened with the arrival of Rome. For example, Malaca and Sexi, led by the indigenous reguli Culchas and Luxinius, revolted in 197 bce,62 while the inhabitants of Gades chose instead to send an embassy to formally petition Rome to stop sending prefects to the city, which infringed the agreement reached with Lucius Marcius Septimus when the city surrendered.63 Carteia, on the other hand, gained the status of Latin colony in 171 bce because the city adopted the offspring of Roman soldiers with Hispanic women. Inside what has been called a ‘Punic cultural sphere’,64 one may find different levels of socio-​political integration and ethnic affiliation, illustrating the absence of fixed ethnic frontiers in southern Iberia, at least as of the mid first millennium bce. This hypothesis breaks with general trends in Spanish academia over the last few decades, in which different studies and palaeontological maps have ascribed to communities concrete, bounded territories. In the second and first centuries bce, ancient colonial foundations on the Mediterranean and Atlantic coast were probably composed largely by populations of eastern origin; these cities were Gades, Carteia, Malaca, Sexi, Abdera, Ebusus and Baria. On the other hand, a series of populations in the Andalusian interior, in the proximities of what used to be lacus Ligustinus, where Strabo located Turdetania, issued coinage with Neo-​Punic legends; they were the so-​called Libyan Phoenician mints, among them, Asido, Lascuta, Turirrecina, Vesci, Iptuci, Oba and Olontigi. Certain places must also be added which almost certainly were composed of mixed communities, such as Carmo, Ilipa or Asta Regia, where archaeological evidence shows Phoenician communities coexisting with a local substrate. In sum, we are confronted with diverse identity realities, linked to a greater or lesser degree by a common language, ways and beliefs of Phoenician origin. Nevertheless, at a local level multiple nuances are observed, which make it impossible to group these communities as a closed, cultural group or define them according to bounded, ethnic frontiers. When Strabo mentions that Turdetania was not only inhabited by ‘Turdetani’, but also by Turduli, Blasto-​Bastetani, 62 63 64

Livy 33.21.6–​9. Livy 23.2.5. Ferrer Albelda 1998, 37–​40. See Fig. 8.5.

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Figure 8.5 The cities of Phoenician-​Punic tradition of the Iberian Peninsula towards the mid first century ce. map by f. machuca.

Oretani, Celts, Lusitanians and Phoenicians,65 he is showing that the ethnic and cultural differences co-​existing in a same territory were evident; therefore, interethnic frontiers in ancient Iberia were tremendously dynamic and permeable, a reality which has been largely ignored until now by traditional Spanish scholarship. Likewise, it is important not to lose sight of the territorial and ethnic re-​adjustments taking place after Rome. This is what Strabo was actually portraying: the importance of Phoenician-​tradition communities in the new order. Although he grouped them under a larger ethnic entity –​the macro ethnic group known as ‘Turdetani’ –​they did not lose their individual significance at a local level, as has been shown above. In conclusion, the Phoenician communities of Iberia practiced a double strategy involving their identity during the time in which they were being incorporated into Roman socio-​political structures. On one hand, mechanisms of civic identity were reinforced, as shown by coinage; while on the other hand, self-​affirmation was promoted by awarding prestige to shared, ancient cultural features and a rich cultural past. The result is reflected throughout the archaeological record of southern Iberia, seen in the continuity of Phoenician cultural elements at a time when classical authors such as Strabo and Cicero were speaking of an intense ‘romanization’. 65

Strab. 3.1.16; 3.2.1; 3.2.13.

Chapter 9

Across the Looking Glass: Ethno-​Cultural Identities in Southern Hispania through Coinage Bartolomé Mora Serrano Few objects in Antiquity contain such quantities of information in so small a space as coins. However, their virtues are also accompanied by difficulties in their analysis in terms of formal aspects, but especially regarding content and meaning as perceived by insiders and outsiders alike. The complexity of their interpretation is increased by the simplicity of their designs and the absence of legends, save a few exceptions to be found outside the Iberian Peninsula. Such problems of identification, sometimes even due to intentional ambiguity in ancient coin iconography, are aggravated in the case of Hispania –​understanding the term in its broadest sense, so as to include pre-​Roman coinage. Additional difficulties are presented by a shortage or complete absence of data, both in literary sources and in the archaeological record, regarding the vast majority of cities which issued coinage*. Despite all this, the value of coinage as archaeological evidence is significant because in the vast majority of contexts there is no other official record to complement data extracted from the coins issued by numerous cities in Hispania between the third and first centuries bce. This phenomenon is particularly evident in southern Iberia, as well as in Ebusus. Coins constitute one of the main identity markers for these populations, already known for their varied origins and rich cultural background through the literary sources and archaeology. One of the main challenges faced by coin studies is the need to assess the accuracy and scope of their contribution to issues dealing with ethnicity. * This paper forms part of the projects ‘Ethnic Identities in Southern Spain: Rise and Evolution in Antiquity (7th-2nd centuries BCE)’ (hum 03482), ‘Ethnic and Political-​Civic identity in Roman Spain: The Case of the Turdetania-​Baetica’ (HAR2012–​32588), and ‘Before the Columns: Malaga in the Punic Period and Its Projection in the iberian southeastern and the Alboran Sea’ (HAR2015–​68669-​P). Abbreviations:  cnh = Villaronga, L.  1994. Corpus Nummum Hispaniae ante Augusti Aetatem. Madrid: A. Herrero; cns i = Calciati, R. 1983. Corpus nummorum siculorum: La monetazione di bronzo. Milano: Edizione GM; dic = García Bellido, M.P. and C. Blázquez Cerrato. 2001. Diccionario de cecas y pueblos hispánicos. Madrid: csic; ivdj = Ruiz Trapero, M. 2000. Las monedas hispánicas del Instituto de Valencia de Don Juan, Madrid: Instituto de Valencia de

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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Fortunately, literature on the topic is extensive, and Hispania is no exception,1 providing a solid base for discussion. It is not the intention here to propose a method for analysing ancient coinage in Hispania, although it is useful for studies concerning this complex issue to explore interpretative approaches, so as to revise general assumptions in the field. With the onset of recent contributions, it is now possible to highlight some of the aspects intervening in the study of coin types in Hispania, in particular those which may be applied to issues on identity. Iconography and iconology in ancient Hispania2 follow Greek models or readings –​in a general sense –​which were known and adopted by the majority of the issuing authorities.3 From this standpoint, obverses and reverses may be interpreted jointly in a single reading, even in a hierarchical way, as in the Gadir issues depicting Melqart and tuna fish.4 However, there are still cases for which this evident or very probable relationship is still not clear or may even be discarded.5 No common rules should be sought, although there did exist composition guidelines, used by the issuing authorities in function of their interests. The analysis of coin iconography, looking at obverses and reverses jointly, is the logical starting point for this study. However, it is also important to consider the overall context, comprising different issues coined throughout a determined time span. The majority of these coins circulated for prolonged periods, constituting, either spontaneously or intentionally, repertoires or galleries of images representing the minting city. This kind of joint reading is more complicated or less evident when dealing with mints which are particularly monotonous in their types, such as Gadir. Malaka, on the other hand, is known for its combination of Heliac divinities and other gods associated with metallurgy, with their respective astrological representations and places

1 2 3 4 5

Don Juan; Jenkins i = ‘Coins of Punic Sicily: Part I.’, snr 50: 25–​78; sngCop. = Jenkins, G.J. 1969. Sylloge Nummorum Graecorum. The Royal Collection of Coins and Medals, Danish National Museum, Munksgaard-​Copennhage; SNGStockholm = Ripollès, P.P. 2003. Sylloge Nummorum Graecorum. Sweden II. The Collection of the Royal Coin Cabinet National Museum of Economy Stockholm, Stockholm: Royal Academy of Letters History and Antiquities. Significant contributions include Chaves Tristán et  al. 2006; Domínguez Monedero 2000; García Bellido 2001; Chaves Tristán 2009; Mora Serrano and Cruz Andreotti 2012b, among others. Ciafaloni 1995; Moreno Pulido 2007. Ricardo Olmos in particular; his contributions, whether or not relating to coinage (Olmos 1995), provide a necessary overview, already present years before in the project lynx (Olmos 1995–​1997). At least in the most densely urbanized territories, which issued the majority of local coinages, such as the Spanish Levant (Ripollès 2012) and Ulterior-​Baetica (Chaves Tristán 2012a). A synthesis of these proposals in García Bellido 1992, 214–​215. See Chaves Tristán 2012a, 180–​181, for nuances on a generalized interpretation.

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of  worship.6 Although different, both mints kept an internal coherence in their iconography, which will prove to hold significant value, as shown below. Cities with varied iconographic repertoires re-​coined early types during the final stages of their minting lives, which is indirect proof of their symbolic value for identity construction in ancient Hispania.7 Ebusus and Abdera were among these cities,8 as well as Malaka. The last issue of this Hispano-​Punic mint combined a reverse depicting a star with sixteen rays, surrounded by a leaf crown and Janiform heads on the obverse, with palm and forceps, along with an inscription of the Neo-​Punic place name mlk’ (cnh 100.7). These two male heads –​one of them with a flat tiara9 and the other wearing a rounded pileus  –​ appeared separately on obverses in the previous phase of the mint (cnh 102. 23; 111.16), dated to the first half and mid-​first century bce. Its closest parallel is found in the Janiform heads of the Caesarian-​Augustan period, and especially in those found on reverses of the Roman provincial issues of Iulia Traducta (rpc 107) and Gades (rpc 96), which in this way honoured the grandchildren of Augustus, the Caesares gemini. Certainly, the lack of inscriptions and facial features with which to identify them complicates the proposed association between Malaka divinities and the heirs to the empire,10 although such a link between local divinities and the Caesar’s heirs is perceived in the male heads of other mints, such as Laelia (cnh 380.9; rpc 54), Irippo (rpc 55) and Osset (cnh 396.8; rpc 58), in the final stages of their respective coinages.11 This phenomenon preceded imperial cult, and although it is most clearly seen in the Hellenistic east, it is also found in north-​African coinage, where the effigy of the governor, Augustus, was associated with ancient local gods.12 Typological variety or continuity should be measured against workshops which produced prolifically throughout a long period of time, rather than against others with a shorter life.13 Only the former offer sufficient data with which to assess the incorporation of new types, either as a complement to the

6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13

Chaves Tristán and Marín Ceballos 1992, 175–​185; Campo and Mora Serrano 1995, 107–​113; Mora Serrano 2007, 429–​431. When local coinages transformed into Roman provincial mints. Beltrán Lloris 2002, 166–​169; Ripollès 2005, 91, 93. Chaves Tristán and Marín Ceballos 1992, 187; Campo and Mora Serrano 1995, 86–​89. Mora Serrano 1991; although the absence of inscriptions and depictions of the two figures complicate this interpretation. While not quite equivalent, it is worth noting that in the East, during the first years of the reign of Augustus, portraits were not accompanied by inscriptions: Burnett 2011, 12. Ripollès 2010, 72, 74, 77. Burnett 2005. Mora Serrano 2012, 739

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iconographic narrative of the mint, or as a break from a previous discourse. Outside the sphere of Phoenician-​Punic mints, Castulo and Obulco incorporated new types, the ‘abduction of Europa’ in the first case, and Apollo with lyre in the second.14 The disappearance of the place name in coins attributed to Castulo depicting Europa/​Astarte on the bull is another example of the significant break affecting identity narratives of some of these mints, known for their ancient and consolidated iconographic traditions.15 The mint of Obulco spanned a longer period of time. The Apollo type (cnh 351.74) (Figure 9.1a) on reverses substituted no less than the female head with a low bun hairstyle, which was also used in the nearby Abra (cnh 355.1) or in Ulia (cnh 366.1). This was an important change in the iconographic policy of the mint, which nevertheless maintained fundamental elements of previous typologies, such as the place name, now in front of Apollo; and for the reverses, the traditional plough, ear of wheat and yoke in the unit coins and the bull in the fractional coins. Another important novelty is the abandonment of Iberian writing. These changes, however, did not alter, as in the case of Castulo, the image of civic identity transmitted by the mint. Rather, this message was expanded. Local pantheons may have housed divinities associated with the image of Apollo, or probably to one of his names, for the assimilation with the image of Augustus, found in later documents, was still far off in time.16 Apollo was depicted in Salpensa (cnh 366.1–​2), and especially in Carbula (cnh 365.4) (Figure 9.1c). In both cases the god is accompanied by a lyre, although not in all issues of the former, acquiring a particular meaning in the latter. The Latin place name carbvla, appearing with the lyre on the reverse (Figure 9.1d), is combined in the first two issues with two very different obverses:  a male head, well executed and with a small crescent in front as the only attribute (cnh 364.1); and a female head with a low bun and the symbol X behind (cnh 364.2) (Figure  9.1b), which is clearly related to iconography from Obulco. If these combinations did not occur by chance, they could be indicating the association between these two divinities and Turdetania. However, it is difficult to identify the object appearing in front of the female head from Carbula. Discarding the possibility of a crescent, other proposals, such as a meander or snake, are not definite either. It could be the stylized representation of a

14 15

16

Chaves Tristán 2008, 367–​369. López Monteagudo and San Nicolás Pedraz 1996, 453, 466. Though there is a possible link between this image and the goddess of fertility, its depiction in Castulo coinage is completely novel, contrasting with the previous male head on obverses and real or imaginary animals on reverses. Rodríguez Oliva 1994, 144–​146, popularized as of Actium.

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plough –​its association with the female head of the Obulco type and the head of Apollo would be more consistent (Figure 9.1b and c). As mentioned previously, it appears that the real emblem of Carbula was also found on its reverses. The lyre and place name type was a local creation, more ancient than the adoption of the Roman Republican Apollo with curly hair, which was incorporated in the iconography of the mint in its last issue (cnh 365.4). On the other hand, the dissemination of these types, the female head of Obulco and the Apollonian type, also underline the existence of shared cults, particularly that of a great goddess of fertility,17 a successful prototype adopted by authorities from other cities in the Turdetanian region. In some cases, such as Ulia (cnh 366.1), small details were added, which may be reflecting the existence of local cults or simply different engravers. These additions highlighted the personality of the mint, as in the case of the lunar crescent, or expressed links with the model established by Obulco, as in the case of the ear of wheat, the agricultural reference par excellence,18 which was displaced by the particular incorporation of a vine on the reverse, connected with the place name. Ear of wheat and grape cluster represented the ancient wealth of these territories, and should also be linked, jointly with the lunar crescent, to the iconography representing this important divinity. The existence of shared cults between cities may be assumed and does not go against the local and civic interpretation accepted for the majority of religious coin iconographies in southern Hispania. The best examples are once again found among Phoenician-​Punic traditions, particularly in regards to the Melqart type (Figure 9.2a), primarily related to Gadir and to its famous sanctuary, known as Heracleion. As will be shown below, the typological and possibly religious associations of the Gaditanian god are numerous; nevertheless, there still exist knowledge gaps regarding the cult. In this sense, the iconographic language used by some of the city’s coin issues, both in modest and eccentric examples, may shed some light on the particularities of this cult –​as has been suggested for Obulco-​Ulia –​and especially on its probable associations. The coinage from Lascuta is a good example for this analysis. This workshop of Punic origin was also linked to Rome’s presence in Hispania.19 Hence, the Punic or Roman adscription of its curious images are still debated.20 The presence of Latin or Latinized names, the bilingual place name, and even its particular metrology, should be considered as testimonies of the existence of 17 18 19 20

Arévalo González 1999, 63–​69; García Bellido 1991, 56; Chaves Tristán 2012a, 179. Mata Parreño et al. 2010, 10. García Moreno 1986; Díaz Ariño 2008, 191–​193. García Bellido 1987; Chaves Tristán 2012a, 190–​194; Jiménez Díez 2014, 229–​231.

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composition models which deviated from the norm, that is, from ‘measured’ iconographies. These models, in a practical and simplified way, may be hiding different readings, in line with the ethnic diversity within many populations of southern Hispania. Lascutan iconography is particularly known for the depiction of two altars, clearly differentiated by form and secondary elements (cnh 126.1, 2)  (Figure 9.2b), which have been rightly interpreted as representations of some of the main vestiges of the Gaditanian Heracleion described in the sources.21 The most striking aspect of these coins in terms of identity is the iconographic language used by some of the workshops of southern Hispania, for example Lascuta, which is much more explicit and therefore closer to the reality of its cults. However, in this case, the incorporation of altars and other iconographies project a double image, both local and regional. The Melqart worshipped in Lascuta must have been none other than the Gaditanian Melqart, reflecting the extension of its influence, which was probably very ancient, although later reinforced by Roman presence in the region. Some of the questions posed today regarding coinage are quite similar in essence to those found in nineteenth century numismatic literature, though their formulation and methods of analysis were quite different –​looking back on the past to create national identities.22 Coin evidence regarding ancient identity in southern Hispania still leads to more problems than certainties, for there is no general rule, and subsequently no common interpretative model to apply to the majority of cases. Coins are not self-​explanatory documents and therefore require other evidence, as well as some question reformulation, which may test the strengths and weaknesses of existing stances. One of these questions concerns the relationship between iconography and inscriptions. Does iconography contribute, on its own, sufficient and reliable data to ascribe ethnic identities to many of these southern coinages? This would imply not having to rely on legends, which are part of the coin designs and greatly influence interpretations. The answer is probably negative, in general, as many explanations of iconography are based on prior ethnic adscriptions, assumed through literary sources or the legends accompanying the images, whether they be Iberian or Phoenician (in Punic and Neo-​Punic). The Phoenician-​Punic character of coinages is not being questioned; it is widely accepted for Gadir, Malaca, Sexs, Abdera, Ebusus and Baria, among 21 22

García Bellido 1987, 143–​145; Almagro-​Gorbea 2011b, 87–​96. Coin iconography played an important role in this sense, particularly the coinage of Phoenician-​Punic tradition, which captured a lot of attention: Mora Serrano 2000b.

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other cities. Neither are the iconographic types chosen by the issuing authorities, assumed to correspond to ancient cults, myths or peculiarities of the minting cities. However, it is increasingly accepted that many of these iconographies were ambiguous, or rather multi-​faceted, created by ethnically and culturally hybrid societies, a well recognized characteristic for southern Hispania.23 This apparent diversity of identity elements, including language, was culturally inclusive, generating cumulative identities.24 All of the above raises the question of whether there actually existed a ‘genuine Hispano-​Punic’ coin iconography.25 In other words, what are the distinctive features of Hispano-​Punic coinage to which we should attach that label? The answer is not straightforward, even when the strongest ethno-​cultural traits identified in southern Hispania are precisely those of Phoenician-​Punic heritage.26 When looking back on the iconography of the coinages mentioned to this point –​ ­Gadir, Malaka, Sexs, etc. –​it becomes clear that a further reading is needed, one which transcends formal characteristics and delves into the meaning provided by ­context. The coinage from Gadir has always been considered a clear and unquestionable example for identity-​related iconography. The classical and Hellenized ­format used by Gaditanian authorities to represent their principal divinity is well-​ known, present throughout its numerous and extensive issues.27 The divinity depicted with lion skin and club is Melqart, who was widely associated with Heracles throughout the Mediterranean koiné.28 We also know, from other sources of evidence, that the nature and cult to the god still incorporated many Phoenician elements.29 However, these religious aspects were not represented on the coinage, which was formally Hellenized by the issuing authorities, therefore transmitting a biased interpretation of the cult.

23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Domínguez Monedero 2000, 70–​74; Ferrer Albelda 2012b, 681–​683; García Fernández 2012, 733–​734. Mora Serrano and Cruz Andreotti 2012a, 5. The same has been questioned for Siculo-​Punic coinage: Prag 2010, 2015, 16. It is clearly reflected in late literary sources dealing with the ethnic reality of southern Hispania (Cruz Andreotti 2014), as well as in the archaeological record, in its widest sense (Ferrer Albelda 2012b). Alfaro Asins 1988, 35–​38. The iconography used by the mint still generates copious bibliography, viewed either from a perspective centred in Hispanic coinage of the far west, or also from a supra-​regional outlook. Bondi 2005. The far west and the so-​called Circle of the Strait combined Phoenician and Greek myths, contributing to this association: González Wagner 2008. Marín Ceballos 2011, 214–​217. From a wider perspective, reviewing the Hellenization of Carthage, see Bonnet 2006.

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A very different iconographic language was adopted by Ebusus,30 with the image of Bes as the main type, which was possibly related to the name of the city.31 This ancient Egyptian divinity rose in the Phoenician-​Punic pantheon, although her iconography did not experience a classical aggiornamento, as in the case of the Gaditanian Melqart; perhaps only in the case of the Egyptized head with double Egyptian crown appearing on the obverses of the first Malaka issues in the late third century bce (cnh 100.1). It is uncertain whether the figure represents Melqart or another divinity of the Phoenician pantheon in Malaka, such as Chusor, although it clearly alludes to a Baal of the city, making use of an eastern and archaic iconography,32 which is later abandoned in issues of the second and first centuries bce. While Sexs followed Gaditanian types, which will be dealt with later, and Abla and Abdera created hybrid types in relation to other nearby Hispano-​ Punic workshops,33 Baria (Villaricos) adopted very different coin types. Aside from another Egyptianized image, the solar disc over crescent with uraei on the sides (cnh 74.89), the most interesting depiction from Baria is a human figure appearing on the obverses of the heaviest units, identified as the image of Astarte-​Isis34 (Figure 9.2c). Until recently it was mistakenly identified with Melqart, for the presence of this divinity in Hispano-​Punic coinage is unique. The tutelary role played by this goddess in Baria is now widely recognized,35 and its association with a date palm-​tree is the most salient characteristic of the city’s coinage. Gadir and Baria shared a common iconographic discourse. They used their principal divinities as the main iconographic type in their coinage, Melqart and Astarte respectively, leaving aside other divinities known through literary sources and archaeology to be present in their pantheons, such as Baal Hammon and Astarte in Gadir,36 and Tanit/​Tinnit in Baria.37 The Barian type, also used by the neighbouring and dependant Tagilit, is a unique case of the representation of this Phoenician divinity (Figure 9.2d), since coinage of southern Hispania was dominated by the iconography of Melqart and to a lesser degree by possible images of Tanit.

30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Campo 1976, 24–​25. A thesis discussed in Hoz 2010, 430–​431. Chaves Tristán and Marín Ceballos 1992, 176–​179; Campo and Mora Serrano 1995, 69–​72. Mora Serrano 2007, 433. Identified by C. Alfaro Asins in 1993b, and associated with Baria years later (2003). López Castro 2005, 56–​67; Martínez Hanmüller 2012, 56–​67. Marín Ceballos 2010, 502. López Castro 2005, 9.

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If the presence of Astarte is striking on its own, it is even more so when combined with the palm tree. The date palm tree, alone or accompanied by a horse, was already used by Carthaginian coin types,38 spreading throughout the Iberian Peninsula with the copious Barcid issues.39 In Baria, the palm was not combined with Melqart without lion-​skin or with the most extended version of Tanit, of Syracusan origin (sngCop. 635). The representation of this exotic tree in Iberian iconography is one of the few elements or compositions which may be described as Punic,40 in the widest sense. However, its numismatic life-​ span was short, for it is only recognized in coinage from Vesci (cnh 129.1) and in some of the so-​called ‘uncertain issues’ related to the Second Punic War (cnh 116.12), combining a bull or a horse with a branch, which could be interpreted as a palm leaf.41 Melqart, without lion-​skin, bearded or beardless, and laureate or with bare head, accompanied sometimes by the club, may also be interpreted in a Punic, or rather a Barcid light. These well-​executed and diverse representations, with their stylistic and formal differences, have been considered to be actual portraits,42 although all variations considered, they are different, perhaps intentionally, from the Gaditanian Melqart. The origin of these two prototypes is traced, like many others, to Sicily, a key political and cultural frontier between Phoenicians and Carthaginians and the Greek and local natives, where many prototypes were re-​elaborated, later to be adopted by cities in Hispania, such as Emporion, Arse, and even Gadir.43 The Hellenized image of Melqart was one of them.44 The general Gaditanian typology was already known in Solus (Jenkins I 23.23),45 associated with tuna and dolphins, although without the club. On the other hand, the numerous Carthaginian issues found on the island also represented Melqart with a lion-​skin and the legend ‘mmḤnt, while the debated issues, with the legend RŠmlqrt, popularized the bearded and laureate 38 39 40

41 42 43 44 45

Manfredi 2006b. Bendala Galán 2015, 158–​166. Mata Perreño et  al. 2010, 43–​56. In this sense, it is worth mentioning the iconography found on a pillar-​stela in Villaricos-​Baria, which associates a female head with a possible abstract representation, or allusion, to this tree of life: Almagro-​Gorbea 2011c, 235–​263; Mora Serrano 2013, 166. Mata Perreño et al. 2010, 51–​52. García Bellido 2013; Bendala Galán 2015, 59. See above, note 3. Yarrow 2013, 354–​359. Alfaro Asins 1988, 37; Manfredi 2000, 11–​13; Moreno Pulido 2011, 3; Mora Serrano 2013, 147. In this same Sicilian mint, a representation of Melqart (?) is depicted with a bare head and a horse on the reverse (cns i 16).

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head of the god.46 The types of the Barcids could be hiding a claim of their hegemony over territories in Hispania, as the heirs of Tyre, choosing to depict the god without lion-​skin or club.47 The Barcid format was followed by other Phoenician-​Punic mints in the east, such as Sexs (cnh 103.1), Abla (cnh 115.1) and Abdera (cnh 113.13), while the area closer to Gadir, Bailo, Asido, Iptuci and particularly Lascuta adopted the model which, from a regional perspective, could be considered more Hispano-​Phoenician, and to a great extent, Gaditanian. This iconography was also adopted by ‘Turdetanian’ workshops such as Carissa (cnh 409.6) and Carmo (cnh 384.13, 14), although there is no consensus on their meaning, despite the Orientalizing or Punic substrate recognized for both localities. These preferences seem to demarcate through coin iconography the famous Circle of the Strait.48 This frontier was flexible, since unlike Malaka, Sexs, the neighbouring city to the east, soon abandoned the representation of Melqart-​ Heracles without lion-​skin and adopted with particular interest the Gaditanian iconography, which was also emulated on its reverses (cnh 104.5). The reasons behind this radical change are unknown, although it may have been related to a claim of the antiquity of Sexs by its authorities, which was later linked by Strabo (3.5.5) to the foundation of Gadir, as a far-​off testimony of a ‘competitive colonization’.49 The alternate presence or absence of certain elements in the iconography of Melqart-​Heracles within Phoenician-​Punic coinages in southern Hispania indicate that there did not exist fixed types, but rather successful creations, which could spread to nearby cities independent of their presumable ethnic adscription. These iconographies, whether studied in isolation or by considering jointly obverses and reverses –​Gadir being a clear e­ xample –​constituted graphic ­expressions of these city states,50 and may therefore be considered identity markers for the centres that adopted them. The meaning and ethno-​cultural significance of each one is as straightforward in some cases as uncertain in others.

…

46 47

48 49 50

Manfredi 2000, 13–​14. Clearly contrasting between the archaic type –​identified with some doubt with Melqart –​and the post-​Alexandrian type, depicting a young god with laureate head and lion skin tied at the neck. The formally Hellenized image of Melqart, in its several formats, may be considered a skilful Tyrian strategy to magnify the prestigious image of the city and its principal divinity: Bonnet 2013, 46. See, recently, Arévalo González and Moreno 2011, 334–​345. Mederos 2003–​2004, 131–​132. Arévalo González 2002–​2003, 244–​246.

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Jointly with the local, civic interpretation of these iconographies, it is also possible to identify a territorial reading, based on the existence of a common mythical past, linked to the image of a territory51  –​a frontier  –​the discovery of which and subsequent dominion over is attributed to the civilizing god Melqart-​Heracles.52 The ethnic component is not indispensable to explain iconographic influences, which are as evident as those seen in the coinage of *Beuipo/​Salacia.53 This important pre-​Roman enclave located at the mouth of the Sado River, shows similar processes to those commented on for Sexs in regard to Gadir, although from a western perspective, in an indigenous context which may be described as Tartessian or Turdetanian. It would be reasonable to think that the ancient Phoenician presence in the area54 also left an imprint on these interesting coinages. When viewed from an epigraphic standpoint, which is arguable from an ethnic point of view but not from an ethno-​cultural one, it appears that the issuing authorities of *Beuipo/​ Salacia ordered the inscription of the place name in one of the most striking palaeo-​Hispanic alphabets, known as the south-​west or Tartessian script.55 Moreover, the lack of contemporary parallels for these issues, dated around the second-​first centuries bce,56 reinforces the leading role played by the coinage of this city, which combined as identity references a unique and singular script, and iconographic types which characterized the mint as a western branch of the Circle of the Strait. The civic authorities claimed, through the adoption of these Gaditanian types –​although following the type of Sexs in the reverse (cnh 1331) –​a privileged position in the geographical and mythical conception of southern Hispania, which overlooked the different substrates and ethnic adscriptions of these populations. A skyphos on the reverse (cnh 134.11), combined with the figure of Melqart-​Heracles on the obverse, included in one of the later issues of the mint, which used the indigenous legend, is the 51

52 53 54 55 56

Although debatable, one possible, extreme case of representing territories through numismatic iconography is found in transitional or late Islamic coins of southern Iberia and north Africa with ears of wheat and tuna fish, which could be yet another example of the recovery of ancient motifs, such as the Carthaginian iconography found on Vandal coins. See Martínez Montávez 1974, 69 and 237; Fontenla Ballesta 2002, 36, and Mora Serrano 2011a, 27 and note 88. Arabic legends alluding to Melqart and ‘magic fishing’ (Almagro-​ Gorbea 2011a, 67–​86; 2012, 91–​93) could be backed by these motifs. However, other interpretations, especially for later issues, insist on a Quranic reading. See Ariza Armada 2004, 214–​219. Mora Serrano and Cruz Andreotti 2012a, 9. Mora Serrano 2012, 91–​98; 2013, 173. Torres Ortiz 2013. Correa 2011; Hoz 2011, 40, 294. Correa 2014.

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clearest allusion to the mythical image of the far west, reinforcing the literary background of some of these coin images, in a place considered, jointly with Gadir, as a literary centre.57 Along with the palaeo-​Hispanic script, *Beuipo/​Salacia also coined in Latin the names of presumed aediles –​such as siscra and odaci –​which appear to be Turdetanian in origin (Figure 9.3a).58 This double Gaditanian and Turdetanian connection, shown in the mint’s coin types and legends,59 constitutes a good example for the need to apply flexible criteria in the ethno-​cultural adscription of other coinages of southern Hispania. A fertile ground for such cases is the mid-​lower Baetis and surrounding areas, territories known for the mix of Phoenician-​Punic influences and indigenous elements, which are so intertwined that it is very difficult to identify and separate them. To this mix one must add, as of the second century bce, an Italian influence. The letter yod found on Castulo types, the Latin place name Urso (cnh 363.1, 2) and, especially, the coin legends of Sacili (cnh 403.1) and Nabrissa (cnh 423.4), are but a small sample, showcasing the complex ethnic reality of these cities. The main question posed by these coinages is not related to reaffirming the already assumed Phoenician-​Punic presence in Turdetania, but to explain the reason why the issuing authorities decided to coin in Punic script at an advanced stage of Roman hegemony, in an environment which may be described as poorly defined in terms of identity. The reason appears straightforward for coastal Phoenician issues, in the area stretching from Gadir and its hinterland to Abdera, although in the mid-​lower Baetis these ethno-​cultural manifestations linked to coin inscriptions appear in strikingly different contexts. With the exception of Obulco and, if allowed, *Beuipo/​Salacia –​ both characterized by their geographical conditions, either as a frontier or as a removed territory –​ the majority of cities in Turdetania inscribed their legends in Latin. The widespread use of Latin in coin legends would have been silencing a presumably rich literary tradition, although this assumption is contested by the modest epigraphic manifestations found in these territories.60 A further question concerns the possible connections between the Punic script of Sacili and Nabrissa and their coin types. Is the Punic origin of these types recognizable without the Phoenician inscriptions? In the case of Sacili, this possibility has been considered for years,61 based on a certain 57 58 59 60 61

Mora Serrano 2011b, 97–​98; Almagro-​Gorbea 2011d. Faria 2000, 125–​126, 138. Such as the wheat ears (cnh 135.12A) or the curious type of the ‘figure with spade’, with parallels found in the Italo-​Baetican lead tokens: Mora Serrano 2011b, 89–​90. Hoz 2010, 371, 403. Delgado y Hernández 1872, clxviii; Mora Serrano 2000b, 132–​133; Mora Serrano 2000a.

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iconographic similarity with north-​African coin types, and even with other Hispano-​Punic ones from Oba and Lascuta, which also made use of the horse and the elephant, respectively.62 The mint of Nabrissa combined a male head with a standing horse (cnh 431.1), in a very similar manner to that of Sacili, and an unidentified animal (cnh 432.2) –​an antelope63 or a bull.64 These Punic inscriptions were clearly a minority in the production of Nabrissa, although not so in Sacili. In both cases they were associated with the same typology, with the exception of a Sacili issue which expanded to incorporate a recently discovered type with elephant and horse (dic 390. 5) (Figure 9.3b). The discovery and identification of these new issues with Punic legends is relatively recent, appearing after the publication of the main corpora and ancient coin catalogues for Hispania. Hence, these mints might be classified in the future as belonging to the Phoenician-​Punic group, at least in the case of Sacili,65 if similar criteria are applied as in other cases, such as the so-​called ‘Liby-​Phoenician’ workshops, including Oba, Turrirecina and Arsa. The latter, although veiled by poor fabric, reveals well documented types in the mints of Ulterior, which adopted as a main type one (cnh 121.1) or two ears of wheat (dic 33.1.2) next to the place name, written in a ‘singular Neo-​Punic’ script: w’r-​s’. This type has been recorded in Tingi (sngCop. 722) and Lixus (sngCop. 701), justifying its Punic adscription, although as argued throughout, such statements must be supported by the context of use –​that is, in the self-​image projected by a Phoenician-​Punic city –​and not in the meaning assigned to specific iconographies. In this sense, the obverse is much more imprecise, depicting a male head, without attributes, only characterized by its disproportionate eye looking forward. This format is somewhat naïve, appearing to highlight a specific aspect in the depicted figure, perhaps representing a local god, inspired not necessarily in other coin types, but perhaps in ceramic painting.66 This possibility has been assumed for ancient coinage, as well as specifically for the Phoenician-​ Punic tradition, as deduced from seals, knives and other artefacts.67 Coin engravers working near other artisan workshops and environments may have 62 63 64 65 66 67

García Bellido and Blázquez 2001, 288, 265. Ibid., 283. Mata Parreño et al. 2014, 7. The new edition of the Corpus of Villaronga and Benages (2011, 345) maintains the same structure for the corpus. García Bellido 2002–​2003, 234–​236. Although not a direct parallel, there is a similarity between the head of Arsa (cnh 121.1) and the Celtiberian ceramic representations of Numantia, as seen in the famous Vaso de los Guerreros: Romero Carnicero 1999. Mora Serrano 2000a, 159, 161.

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been inspired by other crafts for determined coin types. Preceded by an iconological study, these connections have been suggested for the horseman with large, round shield, helmet and long spear, represented in the coins from Ituci (cnh 108.1). This case has been interpreted as Punic, based on the possible formal parallel of the armed horseman on terracotta discs from various places in Hispania,68 although the closest parallels are found in Iberian pottery and, especially, in certain well-​known stone reliefs from the south.69 This does not discard the possibility that Ituci may have used the coin type to promote Punic identity, which could be made extensible to its closest numismatic parallel in the mint of Carissa (cnh 408.1). Although Punic inscriptions are absent from this mint, the head of the Gaditanian Melqart-​Heracles is found on the obverses of various issues (cnh 409.6) from this city, located not far from Oba and Iptuci, with well-​known archaeological remains of Punic heritage.70 As stated at the beginning, applying inflexible ethnic criteria to coin legends in southern Hispania may be misleading. Another issue altogether is to recognize an identity value for coinage in a civic context, which may in some cases project itself territorially. Only through the study of specific cases, supported by the revision of literary sources and the discovery of new archaeological evidence, may scholarship advance in the complicated study of identity, in which coinage, as already pointed out by nineteenth century numismatists, and despite its limitations, played a fundamental role.71 68 69 70 71

Mora Serrano 1993, 73–​74 Specifically, Lacipo (Casares). See Mora Serrano 2014, 1432–​1433. Richarte García 2004. Hübner 1888, 87.

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Figure 9.1 a) Obulco, AE (Herrero 11.12.2014 n. 2038); 11,55 g.c., 12,6 mm. b) Carbula –​obv. –​ AE (Ibercoin 26.06.2013 no. 4017); 8,95 g.c., 12,50 mm. c) Carbula –​obv. –​AE (SNGStockholm no. 317); 12,85 g., 27 mm. d) Carbula –​rev. –​AE (Herrero 13.12.2012 no. 141); 22,98 g.c., 23 mm.

Figure 9.2 a) Gadir –​obv. –​AE (Vico 05.11.2015 n. 251); 12 g., 26 mm. b) Lascuta –​rev. –​AE (ivdg, n. 2043); 14,03 g., 29,45 mm. c) Baria –​obv. –​AE (dic 2nd.3); 21 g., 25 mm. d) Tagilit –​rev. –​AE (G. Cores Collection); 10,87 g., 28 mm.

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Figure 9.3 a) *Beuipo/​Salacia, AE (G. Cores Collection. Mora 2011b, fig. 4); c. 12, 4 g.c., 24 mm. b) Sacili, AE (Rodríguez Pérez 2013, fig. 1); 16,82 g., 31 mm.

Chapter 10

The Economy and Romanization of Hispania Ulterior (125–​25 bce): The Role of the Italians Enrique García Vargas 1 Introduction The ethnic identity of the Italians in Republican Hispania and their strategies for social integration in the new provincial reality are issues which have been avoided in recent scholarship (see Figure 10.1).* The reason for this may be found in the widespread conception of the process of romanization as a political and cultural transformation that affected mainly ‘indigenous’ groups in Hispania. As a result, not much attention has been paid to non-​indigenous groups. Even after romanization began to be approached as a bi-​directional process of mutual adaptation, research has been unable to define with any precision who these ‘Romans’ were in terms of ethnic identity: a community adapting to a new, foreign, reality. The Italians of Hispania are first recorded in relation to three spheres of activity: administrative, military, and commercial. The first two do not necessarily create permanent links with the territory, since they are ‘services’: once the activity is concluded, so is the provider’s residency. Only colonization or the settlement of veterans, which were isolated phenomena until the time of Ceasar and Augustus, led to the creation of Roman or Italian communities, such as Carteia or Italica. The former was founded as a Latin colony in 171 bce, with a mixed population of licenced Roman soldiers, indigenous women and their children (Livy, 43.3.1–​4). The latter, founded in 206 bce after the defeat of the Carthaginian army at the nearby Ilipa Magna (App., Hisp. 37–​38), was the first Roman settlement in Hispania. Apparently, Italica did not obtain municipal status until late in the first century bce. During the first years of its existence, it would have functioned more as a peregrine, rather than a Roman city, with an important conventus civium romanorum, or a kind of dipolis,

* With special thanks to Eduardo Ferrer, David Govantes, Antonio Sáez and Enrique Domínguez for their help.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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formed by two communities, since a pre-​existing Turdetanian site preceded its ­foundation. As for Italica, the name itself points at the geographical origin of its settlers. However, it has been pointed out that during its early years it behaved more like a Turdetanian city with an important Italian community.1 Recent studies emphasize not only the important role played by the city in the military control of the northern Lusitanian populations, but also its administrative role over the mining area of Aznalcóllar (Seville).2 Italica seems to have replaced the neighbouring Ilipa in the control of the mining network of south-​west Turdetania, which shows once more that one of the main activities of the Italian settlers was the permanent or temporary administration of the region. Rome’s interest in the control of basic economic resources, especially metals, created the conditions for the ‘informal’ establishment of a significant number of Italians (calculated to around 3000 towards the second century bce, vide infra), attracted by the resources of Turdetania. In the following pages, archaeological evidence will be examined which speaks of their presence in the most progressive economic sectors of Turdetania, as well as the development of their activities in the region, in terms of the differing impact of these economic sectors over time. Their identity and mechanisms of social integration will be discussed at the end since, as will be shown then, these forms of identity were strongly conditioned by their privileged political and economic position. The riches of Turdetania, which had a ‘magnet effect’ on the Italian immigrants, seem a cliché in the words of Strabo, who wrote on the territory in the time of Augustus, although using sources which were at least a century older: ‘Much grain and wine are exported from Turdetania, as well as olive oil, not only in quantity but of the best quality’ (3.2.6); ‘Up to this time no gold, silver, cooper, or iron of such quality has been discovered anywhere in the world’ (3.2.8).3 The truth is that, despite Strabo’s somewhat propagandistic view of the romanization and civilisation of ‘Turdetania’, one cannot deny that in his work there is a certain degree of admiration for the riches of the Guadalquivir Valley and the industry of its inhabitants.4 Exalting the mineral resources of southern Iberia was a constant in ancient descriptions of the region, which, almost from the time of conquest, frequently alluded to the abundance and quality of metals in the region. In 1 2 3 4

Keay 1997, 23. Garrido González et al. 2012, 157. Translations of Strabo from Roller 2014 Arce 1989. With the nuances and caveats exposed by G. Cruz Andreotti (2002–​2003, 46).

166 García Vargas the first century bce, Diodorus (5.36), following Posidonius, wrote that ‘after the Romans had made themselves masters of Iberia, a multitude of Italians have swarmed to the mines and taken great wealth away with them, such was their greed’. These riches were quantified by Polybius. In the mid-​second century bce, according to this author, 40,000 men were working in the mines of Carthago Nova, providing the state a net benefit of 25,000 drachmas per day (Strab. 3.2.10). Strabo himself (3.2.9), quoting Posidonius, stated that an individual exploiting the mines of Turdetania could earn an Euboic talent of silver (25.92 kg) in three days. Pliny, in the second half of the first century ce, stated that Spanish silver was the most beautiful and that it could be found on barren ground and even in the mountains (Pliny nh 36.97). He found it surprising that, even at this late date, mines still had the same names as when they were first exploited during Hannibal’s ascendancy.5 2

From the Lusitanian to the Sertorian Wars: The Importance of the Mining Sector

Mining, along with military service, has traditionally been considered one of the main causes of Italian migration to Iberia during the last centuries of the Roman Republic.6 The armies were followed by mercatores, suppliers, tax farmers, and other ‘professionals’, who did business during campaigns and even collaborated with the administration in the management of conquered territories.7 It seems likely that the most visible traces left on the mining fields of the region correspond to the miners. Material evidence for the presence of individuals of Italian origin in the mining areas of Hispania Ulterior for the period 124–​92 bce –​that is, the period immediately following the Lusitanian Wars (155–​139 bce)  –​comprises hoards of coins and other silver objects, which have been recorded in the Sierra Morena (Cordova and Jaén).8 This was a quintessential mining region, and by the late second and early first centuries bce it had started taking over Cartagena in terms of the volume and quality of the silver. This shift was made possible by the pacification of the Lusitanians, who were a constant threat to the region for years, disrupting the management of mining concessions and the exploitation of the mines. In fact, the 5 6 7 8

All data in this respect have been set out by González Román 2010, 15. Marín Díaz 1987–​1988, 47–​82. García Bellido 1966; Marín Díaz 1987–​1988, 55; Ferrer Maestro 1994. Chaves Tristán 1996.

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Figure 10.1 Main locations mentioned in the text by garcía vargas and domínguez berenjeno.

aforementioned coin hoards were probably the result of instability, even after the ‘official’ ending of the conflict with the Lusitanians. Small outbreaks of renewed violence are not likely to have made it into the literary sources, once the overall situation was more or less stable. Most of these hoards were composed of official issues of denarii that were typically used by the Italian population, particularly when dealing with economic activities, in which the state played an active role. The archaeological excavation of the mining village of La Loba (Fuente Obejuna, Cordova), which has exposed over 2000 m2 of the Roman site, confirms that the Roman and Italian population played an important role in the mines of Sierra Morena during the late second and early first centuries bce (c. 120–​ 90 bce), even before the end of the Social Wars that resulted in the statutory equivalence of both groups. According to the excavation reports from La Loba (Figure 10.2),9 both the ceramic repertoire and the characteristics of the houses (especially C1, a house with an atrium and peristyle), indicate that these silver mines were managed by a community of Italians. The material culture

9 Blázquez et al. 2002, 394–​395.

168 García Vargas (especially the pottery and the coins) indicates that these Italians coexisted with Celtiberian and Turdetanian individuals,10 who were probably more numerous, although not part of the managing staff. Coins from northern Iberian and Celtiberian mints (Sekaisa, Sekia, Titum) (i.e. far from the mining areas of Ulterior) have been recorded in other mining areas of Sierra Morena, such as El Centenillo or Diógenes, which suggests that individuals from these areas were being recruited to work in the Andalusian mines.11 Overall, the pre-​Sertorian hoards, the evidence from La Loba, and isolated coin finds from mining sites in the region of Sierra Morena seem to suggest that a minority of Romans and Ita­ lians ruled over a population which was mainly composed of locals and groups from other Iberian regions, such as the Inner Plateau and the Ebro Valley. In the western mining areas (Riotinto, Nerva and Aznalcóllar), there is increasing evidence for relatively intense occupation and exploitation during the Late Republican period.12 In Riotinto, large deposits of slag produced by the smelting of silver accumulated in the area of Cortalago. As well as slag, these deposits also included the remains of metallurgical furnaces, crucibles and blowpipes. These deposits date from the Tartessian period, and continue, with numerous interruptions, throughout the Late Iron Age up to the final years of the Republic and the Empire; the latest deposit is dated to the Antonine period. The earliest evidence for Roman presence in these mines is dated to the second half of the second century bce.13 At a distance of barely 400 m from Cortalago lie the slag heaps of Corta Dehesa, approximately 15 m deep and dated, based on the ceramic contents, to the late second and early first centuries bce.14 The size and depth of these deposits indicate that the mining and metallurgical operations in Riotinto during the Republican period were much more intense than hitherto assumed. A test pit dug in the vicinity of Cortalago (rt-​25)15 confirmed Late Republican occupation levels (dated to the mid-​second century bce) that were associated with jarositic silver slag,

10 11

12 13 14 15

For pottery from the mining town of La Loba, see Passelac (2002) and Benquet and Olmer (2002) in the previously mentioned monograph; for coin finds, see Chaves Tristán and Otero Morán (2002), in the same volume. García Bellido 1986, 38. On Celtiberian and Iberian coinage from the Ebro Valley in La Loba, see Chaves Tristán and Otero Morán (2002, 181–​185). The authors present a complete scenario for the presence of this kind of coinage in the mines of Ulterior and the region of Cartagena (2002, 191–​205). An exhaustive catalogue of the coins from Citerior found in Republican Ulterior can be found in Ruiz López (2010, 993–​114). Cf. Pérez Macías and Delgado Domínguez 2011. Blanco Freijeiro and Rotemberg 1981; Amores Carredano 1988. Cradock et al. 1985 Pérez Macías, and Delgado Domínguez 2011, 62–​70.

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Figure 10.2 Mining village in Fuente Obejuna (Cordova) courtesy of Blázquez et al. 2002.

suggesting that a considerable volume of metal production occurred during this period. From this period onwards, mining infrastructure included a series of fortifications that controlled access to and from the mining fields, particularly on the roads that followed the course of the Tinto River towards Niebla (Ilipla) and Huelva (Onuba), on the coast. These points of control are commonly known as ‘fortines’; it is assumed that they were small, military installations built to defend the mining territory, especially the communication routes with the coast. There are two sites of this kind in the area around Riotinto: El

170 García Vargas

Figure 10.3 Castellum of El Castillejo (El Campillo, Huelva) courtesy of Pérez Macías and Delgado Domínguez 2011.

Castillejo (El Campillo, Huelva: Figure 10.3) and Valpajoso (Villarrasa, Huelva). Both sites are small hilltop fortifications. El Castillejo consists of a square building with a perimeter wall that is 1.2 m wide and reinforced by a rampart 2.5 m wide.16 The complete dimensions of the enclosure are unknown, as it has not yet been excavated in its entirety. 16

Ibidem, 51–​54.

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Attached to the inside of the only wall that has been excavated to date is a series of small rooms, which have been interpreted as casemates used for different purposes: for example, as living quarters for the garrisons. Archaeological material associated with the ‘fortín’ of El Castillejo include Dressel 1 amphorae and common wares dated to the late second and the early first centuries bce. The so-​called castellum of Valpajoso is found on an elevation in the foothills of Sierra Morena;17 the fortification is preceded by a ditch (fossa), which is 1.5 m deep. The ditch was complemented by the construction of a rampart (agger) surrounding the entire complex, similar to that at El Castillejo. The centre of the site included a rectangular building measuring 15 x 10 m with 0.7-​m-​thick walls, and a small patio with a central cistern 2.5 m deep, surrounded by rooms around the perimeter. The structure of the site is very similar to other rural Republican constructions, such as Castelo da Lousa (dated to at least half a century later),18 inspired by the typical domestic layout around an atrium. The circular pit and early chronology, however, suggest a military function rather than an agricultural or industrial one. The surrounding territory supports this suggestion, as it lacks any kind of agricultural resources. Moreover, the material culture coincides with what would be expected from externally supplied military buildings, including transitional Graeco-​Italic amphorae and Dressel 1A from Italy, T7433 amphorae from Gades, ovoid amphorae from the Guadalquivir Valley and other types in the Turdetanian tradition, indicating a life span for the settlement ranging between the mid-​second and mid-​first centuries bce. It is difficult to interpret these small, fortified establishments as civil ‘fortified houses’, the kind of settlement built by early agrarian colonists in some areas of the Alto and Baixo Alentejo, in Portugal, Extremadura, and the eastern farmlands of the Guadalquivir, in Spain.19 Ramparts, pits, pottery typologies, and especially the early chronology, all suggest that their function was the ­defence and control of the mining routes, one of which ran north to south ­between the mining fields and the coast, while another ran north-​west to south-​east, towards the Guadiamar River. It has been recently proven that the latter of these routes, which follows the course of the Tejada River up to the Aljarafe region in Seville, was used to transport minerals.20 The route remained

17 18 19 20

A recent paper is exclusively dedicated to this site: Bustamante et al. 2010. Alarcão et al. 2010. On this kind of rural establishment, see an update on archaeological research by Moret (2010, 2016b) and the monographic volumes edited by Moret and Chapa (2004), and Ma­ yoral Herrera and Celestino Pérez (2010). Amores Carredano et al. 2014.

172 García Vargas active until the Imperial period, when the Guadiamar River was used to serve as a transport route for the mines of Aznalcóllar. This kind of fortification has also been recorded at the mines of eastern Sierra Morena, more specifically in the municipalities of Baños de la Encina, Andújar and Linares (Jaén province).21 In the archaeological area of Escoriales-​Solana de Cerrajeros (Andújar), the shafts and open mines for the extraction of silver (known as rafas), as well as the adjacent furnaces, were protected by castillos and castillejos, which appear to date back to the late second or early first century bce. The castillejos (­fortifications) are similar in size to those found in the Riotinto area (c. 10 x 6, 10 x 9 m), whereas the castillos are larger (c. 50 x 100 m), enclosed by perimeter walls and equipped with towers. The latter would have operated as the living and management quarters for the mine, and the former must be interpreted as playing a control and surveillance role, as they were located alongside roads between towns and mines or on elevations in the vicinity of the mining fields (atalayas) and thus controlled access to them. The floor plan of the castillejos, where known, is quite simple: two rooms are separated by a wall, which may run parallel to the longitudinal or transversal axis. A similar floor plan is found in the ‘fortified house’ of El Tesorillo (Teba, Málaga),22 although we do not know whether the Jaén examples were similarly compartmentalised because they have not been excavated. A similar type of mining settlement, based on fortified quarters, smelting facilities and control posts, has been suggested for the mining area of Peñalosa in Baños de la Encina. In Peñalosa, the main settlement was the centre of a network of towers and minor forts, for example those in Playa de Tamujoso, Retamón and Peñalosa. The period 120–​80 bce therefore witnessed the emergence in the Iberian Pyrite Belt and Sierra Morena of a mining economy that was based on the presence of large mining estates (saltus), exploited by leaseholders (either individuals or societates). This resulted in a characteristic settlement pattern: a mining town or vicus, often fortified, located in the vicinity of the mining shafts, ditches, and the smelting facilities. Control of the territory was achieved through a network of small fortifications or turres, which supervised access to and from the mining territories. The pattern is reminiscent of what is known about the north-​east of Tarraco­ nensis, where, from the late second century onwards, Republican settlement patterns included vici that were occupied by Italians, who played an important role 21 22

Gutiérrez Soler 2012, esp. 116–​125. Serrano Ramos et al. 1985.

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in the defence and control of the territory. Such is the case of Ca L’Arnau (Cabrera de Mar, Barcelona),23 where the presence of Italian elements is made evident by the decoration of the baths and by the construction of a bath complex as early as the early first century bce. Small, fortified sites, such as Tacó, depended on small towns like Ca L’Arnau,24 and thus the basic model of early rural occupation was reproduced in the most advanced economic areas of Hispania. As illustrated by La Loba, the role played by the Italians in this system must have been significant, especially in relation to the management and organization of mining concessions by either large mining societates, such as the so-​ called societas Castulonensis, or smaller societates with few partners. The material evidence for the presence of Italians in Turdetania is, however, very scant to date. Nonetheless, it is worth noting:  the style of construction (house C1 of La Loba), the denarii hoards of central and eastern Sierra Morena, and the material contexts, once again, of La Loba. In addition to these, there is also evidence for the ‘technical contribution’ of newcomers:  for example, the adoption of silver-​smelting techniques that used small furnaces (especially with the jarosite from Riotinto). This technique produces slag slabs which measure between 15 and 40 cm in diameter and 1–​8 cm thick. New technology was also applied in the trenches, galleries, and shafts. For example, in El Centenillo (La Carolina, Jaén), water was evacuated from the galleries by means of drainage channels and sophisticated mechanisms such as sets of Archimedes’ screws. Finally, some elements of the material culture, such as the ‘mining relief’ from Linares (Jaén), also point to the existence of an Italian community in the area, provided that this relief can be securely dated to the Republican period and interpreted as a decorative plaque belonging to a funerary monument built in the Italian style.25 An important factor in the latinization of the mining areas of Ulterior was the military presence involved, both in Sierra Morena and in the southern Iberian Pyrite Belt. Military garrisons located at mining forts cannot be disregarded simply on the basis that supplying an inland defensive system would have been difficult,26 as these forts did not form a complex line of fortifications, but only small garrisons that served the mining areas. Moreover, the maintenance and supply of these would have been quite straightforward, given the resources provided by the various annonae and contributions from the inhabitants of the area. 23 24 25 26

Martín 2002. Guitart i Duran et al. 2006; Mercado Pérez et al. 2007. Rodríguez Oliva 2001. Cadiou 2008, 279 ff.

174 García Vargas Current interpretations consider that the companies of publicani operating in the mining areas focused on the collection of taxes among the leaseholders, while the governor was in charge of regulating the occupatio of the shafts.27 However, the building of the infrastructure required deep-​mining operations and water drainage, while the commercialization of metal and the defence of the mines required organization and capital. These elements may sometimes have been provided by the main leaseholders, even if at a basic, organizational level: for example, cash supply and the control of the military contingent depended on the state.28 Even much later sources mention the presence of soldiers involved in mining, for example, in reference to the regulations of the mining district of Vipasca in Alentejo, during the Flavian period, which gave soldiers access to the baths (I.3.4). Nothing is known of the legal status of these military garrisons (whether they were Roman Italian or indigenous auxilia). It is, at any rate, possible to apply to the mining areas the hypothesis that the main routes were controlled by small cavalry squadrons (turmae), for example in Cerro del Trigo (Puebla de don Fadrique, Granada).29 If this was indeed the case, auxilia, with large numbers of Italians (at least before the Social Wars), would have been a common choice. The natural outlet for the metal from Riotinto was the area of Huelva and the Guadiamar River, while metal from the western Sierra Morena travelled down the Guadalquivir. Along this route lay Hispalis (Seville), the great emporium of the Guadalquivir Valley. Located on the highest point of the river course, reachable by large cargo ships,30 the city shows signs of a lively process of romanization in the late second and early first centuries bce.31 In the harbour area, located to the south of the city, a building complex constructed with small masonry blocks and adobe, paved with opus signinum, must have played a similar role to the large storage warehouses in opus africanum, which were built in the exact same location sixty years later.32 Turdetanian wares are common in the pottery assemblages found in association with these buildings, in the Republican Phase I in Patio de Banderas (c. 100 bce),33 although most of the amphorae and table ware are Italian imports, often of Campanian origin: Dressel 1A amphorae, with the typical volcanic fabric of the region; and Campanian A, which was also produced in the Gulf of Naples. Some 400 m 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

Mateo Sanz 2001, 65. As pointed out by Chic García, 2008, 342. Adroher et al. 2006, 631. Strab. 3.2.3. García Vargas and García Fernández 2009. Cf. Tabales Rodríguez 2015, 68–​82. García Vargas et al. 2015.

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to the north, the excavation at Calle Argote de Molina 7 revealed what has been interpreted as a sector of the forum:34 a series of buildings built in opus quadratum, of unknown plan, were found there. These features were found in association with similar imports to those excavated in Patio de Banderas, but in this case the presence of other Italian wares was much more significant: pots, pans, and dishes with forked rims, all of which point to ‘Italian’ eating habits and, presumably, Italians.35 3

Between the Sertorian Wars and the Civil Wars: From Mining to Fish Preserves and Commercial Crops

The period beginning with the Sertorian Wars is particularly elusive in terms of archaeological and numismatic evidence.36 The material record for the Italian presence in Turdetania is patchier and less coherent than for the previous period. Despite the conflictive nature of the period, coin hoards are not frequent in the Sierra Morena. However, ‘indigenous’ mints, especially in mining settlements such as Castulo in Sierra Morena, underwent an interesting evolution, particularly concerning their legends. From around 90 bce Latin legends became the norm on coins minted by Castulo. At first the legends mixed Latin and Iberian, but from approximately 80 bce onwards Latin was the only language used. Generally these legends mention the name of the magistrate in charge of coinage37 although some of these names are of native origin, mostly they are Roman names, with their respective affiliation. The affiliations, in fact, suggest that these were members of the ‘romanized’ indigenous elite, provincial clients of Roman senatorial families who had arrived in Iberia to take over the governorship or lead the Roman armies.38 A certain number of these individuals seem to have been of Italian origin, largely from Lazio and Campania, which means that access to magistracies in indigenous stipendiary cities was open to immigrants or their descendants, as long as they were already Roman citizens. It has been suggested that during this period a ‘mixed’ elite seized local power in strategic cities, which also gave them economic control over the region.39

34 35 36 37 38 39

Campos Carrasco 1986. Sánchez Sánchez 1995; García Fernández and García Vargas 2010. Cf. Chaves Tristán 2005. Arévalo González 2005. Marín Díaz and González Román 1994; Chaves Tristán 1994, 1999; Pena 1994. Chaves Tristán 1999, 307–​309.

176 García Vargas This trend is not exclusive to cities located near the major mining regions, such as Castulo and Obulco (the coinage of which also included Latin inscriptions with the name of the coin magistrates), and port cities, such as Hispalis, but can also be noted at a number of lesser settlements located in the valleys of navigable rivers (Guadalquivir or Baetis, Guadaíra or Iro, Guadiamar or Maenuba, Tinto or Urium, Guadiana or Anas), that is, points of transit for minerals on their way to the coast.40 Many of these cities were minting coins in the mid-​first century bce. The legends were always inscribed in Latin, and the iconographies have recently come to be regarded as more or less clear imitations of contemporary Roman models. Francisca Chaves has referred to this phenomenon as a deliberate practice of imitatio,41 which is quite different from the aemulatio which affected Roman coins throughout the region a century before, that is, from the mid-​second century bce. Based on the iconography of the coins, this aemulatio appears to have been an attempt by the rulers of the indigenous cities to preserve a certain degree of independent identity. Aemulatio and imitatio seem to be separated by a small ‘ethnic revolution’, which led to the integration of Italian minorities into the urban life of the Turdetanian oppida, thus bringing about the emergence of a mixed elite.42 This complex and thorny topic will be addressed again below. First, attention will be paid to the presence of other Italians, who were not part of the ruling elites, though nevertheless played a very active role in the economic life of urban centres, as demonstrated by the archaeological record. The pottery workshop of El Rinconcillo (Figure 10.4a) in the Bay of Gibraltar,43 which was located in the territorium of Carteia, became active in second quarter of the first century bce. The workshop produced amphorae that were reproductions of Italian prototypes (Dressel 21–​22 and especially Dressel 1C); these were then used for the transportation of fish products. Not only are there no traces of punic types in the kiln, but the inscriptions found in association with the amphorae indicate the intensely romanized, or rather, Roman character of the artefacts. The potter’s stamps found on these amphorae, with the legend scet and scg, have generally been interpreted as relating to a societas which, if this interpretation is accurate, would have taken over the fisheries on

40 41 42 43

Cf. Chaves Tristán and García Vargas 1994. Chaves Tristán 2008. For a recent reflection on the same topic, see Chaves Tristán 2012a. The kiln was partially excavated by Sotomayor Muro (1969) and was later subject to other, more recent, partial interventions by Fernánez Cacho (1995); Bernal Casasola and Jiménez-​Camino Álvarez (2004).

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the Strait or c(a)etariae Gaditanae.44 This interpretation of the initials scg is reminiscent of the written references to the famous garum sociorum, which, at any rate, should not be interpreted as the garum of the societas or ‘company’, but as the garum of the ‘allies’,45 since the inhabitants of Gadir were allies or foederati of Rome until Gadir was promoted to the rank of municipium. Aside from the unlikely relationship between inscriptions and a hypothetical fishing society, it is significant to note that the same amphorae also bear other stamps, which identify their producers, or rather, the managers of the workshop in which they were produced. These use the formula opus eius, ‘work of’: OP. M. lucr (etii), OP. L. caes (iani?), OP. C. avieni, etc., followed by a clearly Latin or Roman nomenclature. The discovery in Carteia of a workshop producing Italian types of amphorae and managed by individuals with Italian names should not come as a surprise. According to the literary tradition, Carteia was the first Latin colony in the Iberian Peninsula. It was settled in 171 bce by the children of Roman citizens (soldiers) and local women, and they were granted ius latius. This was a substantial improvement in their personal status, and thus it was not necessary to grant them full citizenship. However, Algeciras is not the only place along the coast of the Strait where a rapid ‘romanization’ of pottery shapes, as well as all the other different elements involved in the production of fish preserves, has been attested. In Baelo (Tarifa, Cádiz), evidence points to a significant growth of the fish-​ salting industry, which became, from this period onwards, one of the economic powerhouses of the city.46 In an earlier phase, the city seems to have consisted of a small hilltop settlement in the interior (Silla del Papa); the foundation of this original nucleus can be traced as far back as the ninth century bce. Based on the current evidence, however, the fish-​salting factories of ‘coastal Baelo’ cannot be dated earlier than the mid-​second century bce.47 These factories were the nucleus around which the Roman city was built after the abandonment of old Punic Bailo on the hill.48 El Rinconcillo seems to have supplied the containers for the transport of the fish, which was salted and prepared by the locals.49 It is 44 45 46 47 48 49

Mayet 1994. Cf. recently, interpretations point in the same direction as Lagóstena Barrios (2014). Millán León 2001. Sillières 1997. Arévalo Domínguez and Bernal Casasola 2007, 225 ff. Moret et al. 2010. Bernal Casasola 1999. In fact, the stamps of Lucretius, Caesianus and Avienus come from Baelo. They are associated with scg and scet stamps and appear on Dressel 1 amphorae, the fabric of which is identical to those from El Rinconcillo workshop.

178 García Vargas

Figure 10.4 a) Stamps on amphorae 7.4.3.3. from the Bay of Cádiz. b) Stamps on amphora Dressel 1C from El Rinconcillo (Algeciras) and Baelo Claudia (Tarifa) by García Vargas and Sáez Romero, after Mayet 1994, Sillières 1997 and García Vargas 1998.

thus possible to establish a connection between the presence of the ‘Italians’ in Carteia and the development of the fish-​salting industry in Baelo. More workshops began to emerge further west, in the Bay of Cádiz at Gadir/​Gades, an ancient Phoenician city with strong Punic roots. The amphorae produced in these workshops are identical to the Dressel 1C produced in the Bay of Gibraltar.50 In this case, these Roman shapes were being produced alongside traditional Late Punic amphorae (Ramón 7.4.3.3). The latter were stamped in both Neopunic and Latin, although the names were always Semitic (Figure 10.4b),51 which, in addition to the long tradition of imitating foreign shapes in the local workshops, seriously challenges the 50 51

García Vargas 1998. Ibidem; Sáez Romero 2008.

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hypothesis that the potters behind the production of these Dressel 1 were of Italian origin. Instead, the evidence suggests that most of the potters in Cádiz were still Punic; after all, the city was a Punic enclave, even though it was undergoing a rapid process of romanization, leading to its promotion to Roman municipium in the mid-​first century bce. However, the presence of some Italian elements should not be ruled out for the Gaditanian industrial sector,52 nor even for Gaditanian agriculture.53 The early emergence of villa-​like rural settlements within the traditional Semitic rural settlement pattern (mager) and the discovery of coins imitating official Roman series in the farmlands of the Guadalete River Valley have led Francisca Chaves Tristán to suggest that social groups of Italian origin, who were used to the this kind of currency, were forced to imitate it c. 70 bce, owing to a lack of official supply in the area.54 Typically, Italian settlement patterns seem to have started developing in the most economically advanced regions of western Turdetania, for example the Bay of Cádiz and the lower Guadalquivir Valley, around this time. These settlements mostly involved the constructions of villae, which constituted a very different form of agricultural exploitation to the ‘fortified houses’ that seem to have characterized the farmlands in the upper valley (vid. supra). Before the Sertorian Wars, Italians were probably concentrated in the mining districts and the cities, particularly those areas with significant commercial connections such as Hispalis or Italica, cities in which the material culture was completely, or predominantly, Roman. An estimated 30,000 permanent Italian residents of Ulterior may not be such a conservative number,55 considering that the ‘official’ process of municipalization and colonization, which brought a large number of Roman citizens to the colonies, did not officially begin until Caesar (numbers were later boosted by Augustus). This caused a substantial transformation in the settlement patterns and even in the ‘ethnic composition’ of the region in the late first century bce. The written sources which describe the events related to the Civil Wars that took place in Hispania throughout the first century bce mention the existence of vernacular legions recruited from citizens living in the province. They also refer to other combat units made up of provincials, such as the cavalry troops recruited from Italians and locals, who fell in the Battle of Munda in 46 bce (Bell. Hisp. 31.9). This confirms that the Italians were fully settled in the region, 52 53 54 55

Bernal Casasola et al. 2004. Chic García 2008. Chaves Tristán 1993. Cf. González Román 2010.

180 García Vargas which probably means that they, and their descendants, had been living there for a relatively long time.56 The Italian presence does not become archaeologically visible in rural areas of the Guadalquivir Valley until the mid-​first century bce. However, it should be noted that recent archaeological research has uncovered new evidence for Italian presence along the borders of Turdetania. Isolated centres, such as Cerro de la Atalaya (Lahiguera, Jaén),57 located in the farmlands nearest to the eastern mines of Sierra Morena (i.e. Oretania), seem to have supplied the mines with grain, wine, and pottery both local and imported. Based on the material culture, this settlement may have been occupied or managed by Italians between 100 bce and 60 bce. The same kind of rural settlement, dedicated to supplying basic products to the mines (especially bread, cereal, and wine), is recorded in other mining regions of Hispania, such as in Mazarrón (Murcia) in the area of Cartagena, where small rural establishments, such as Cabezo de Vulcano, seem to have played the same role in basic logistics and supply.58 Caesarian policies paid special attention, especially after the war against Pompey’s sons, to exploiting and reinforcing the defence of the territory by promoting a series of indigenous centres, which controlled the main communication routes.59 Cities situated along the Guadalquivir Valley, such as Ilipa (Alcalá del Río, Seville) and Siarum (Torre del Águila, Utrera, Seville), as well as civitates (i.e. ethnics groups), such as the Callenses (Montellano, Seville), received at this time a cognomen (in this case Ilienses, Fortunales and Aeneanici, respectively), which indicates their promotion to municipal status during Caesar’s time, even in the absence of an influx of Roman settlers. However, coin legends and types from indigenous cities indicate that Italian groups must have found a way to become part of the ruling elite, not only in the new municipalities –​presumably under Latin law –​but also in stipendiary cities. Archaeological surveys have found evidence for the romanization of rural settlements, dating to the second third of the first century bce in the territories of cities such as Carmo (Carmona) or Mesa de Gandul (Irippo?).60 This is the starting date for the Republican ‘fortified houses’ of the Alto and Baixo Alentejo, also found in the district of Serena in the current province of Badajoz, which have been interpreted as possible rural settlements, belonging to a dispersed population; Italians may have been represented in significant numbers in this population. 56 57 58 59 60

Cf. ibidem. Barba Colmenero et al. 2015, 2016. Ramallo Asensio and Arana Castillo 1985, 60. Cortijo Cerezo 1990–​1991, 275. García Vargas 2015, with previous bibliography.

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The relationship between the ‘fortified houses’ of the Alto Alentejo and Serena and their respective mining regions is reminiscent of relation between the ‘forts’ of Sierra Morena and the Iberian Pyrite Belt. Therefore, only the sites of Baixo Alentejo and the farmlands of the upper Guadalquivir may be described as corresponding to an ‘agrarian’ model and, even then, the former are very few in number, while the latter have been contested as civil settlements of Julio-​Claudian date. In sum, the idea of agricultural colonisation occurring in marginal lands during the Late Republic has not gained widespread support. Be that as it may, the importance of agriculture, especially cash crops such as wine and olive oil, is apparent in the central years of the first century bce, not only in the quotation by Strabo (3.2.6) presented at the beginning of this paper, but also in the archaeological evidence related to the production of transport amphorae. Recent research has demonstrated that the amphorae produced in the cities of the lower Guadalquivir Valley form a heterogeneous repertoire, and these are generally referred to as ‘Guadalquivir Ovoid amphorae’.61 This generic type includes up to ten ovoid amphora shapes produced between 70–​60 and 30–​25 bce; each type is identified by the general shape of the container and an ordinal number (Ovoid 1, Ovoid 4, Ovoid 5 etc.). These types imitate, almost exactly, the general morphology of southern Italian amphorae types, in particular those of the southern Adriatic coast. The formal similarities between amphorae Ovoid 1, 4, 5 and 6, for example, and those produced in pottery workshops in Giancola and Apani, in the territory of Brundisium (Brindisi), have been repeatedly stressed. Since this process involves the emergence of a completely novel pottery tradition in the region, this can be taken as an argument for the arrival of Italian potters in the province. Although these types were used exclusively for the export of olive oil and wine from the Guadalquivir Valley and were manufactured in large numbers, only a very limited number of workshops that produced them, and indeed of types that succeeded them, have been identified to date. Only a few workshops have been identified as producing these types and those that followed (such as Haltern 70, which replaced the Ovoid 4 type as a wine container c. 25–​20 bce). To date, most of these workshops have been identified outside Carmona,62 near the Seville Gate and the road to Hispalis. The earliest productions, specifically types Ovoid 4, Ovoid 6 and Ovoid 10 (c. 50–​15 bce) have been recorded in the workshop excavated in Calle González Parejo no. 9A, while the latest ones (between 25 bce and 10–​15 ce), Haltern 70 (and Pellicer D), have been recorded in the excavation of Calle 61 62

Almeida 2008; García Vargas et al. 2011. García Vargas 2012.

182 García Vargas Dr Fleming 13–​15. Along with these Roman-​type amphorae, the Carmona pottery workshops produced other types that were in the style of the Turdetanian tradition, such as the Pellicer D type, alongside a repertoire of common and painted common wares, some of which exhibit Italian influences, although they mostly follow indigenous models. The pottery workshops of Carmona cannot therefore be considered exclusively Italian, but rather as reflecting a mix of Italian and local influences. It is not certain whether these amphorae (and other imitations of Italian types, such as Campanian wares) were exclusively produced in suburban kilns, such as those in Carmona.63 If so, they may correspond to a period prior to the development of the great ceramic industries in the Guadalquivir Valley, which emerged in the Julio-​Claudian period as a consequence of the economic development of the Caesarian and Augustan colonies such as Romula Hispalis (Seville) and Firma Astigi (Écija). This economic ‘take off’ also benefited other cities, which, although in less privileged locations, were still able to take advantage of the natural conditions for navigation of the Guadalquivir in the closing years of the first century bce, responding to the state demand for olive oil. The structures built in opus africanum, (horrea) in the Hispalis harbour, which replaced the old Republican structures (vid. supra) in the current Patio de Banderas, Alcázar constitute evidence for the economic growth,64 which began in the mid-​first century bce. Seville had by that time been widely romanized, which in terms of ceramic production is represented by typical ovoid amphorae from the Guadalquivir and the black-​slip Campanian imitations, which so frequently coexisted here with authentic Campanian wares in this period. Romanization seems to have consolidated during this period, when the presence of Italians (who were all Roman citizens by this stage) became more visible in the archaeological record, owing to the allotment of agri viritani in the new colonies. There is an increasing amount of funerary evidence for the mid-​first century bce, chiefly inhumations covered with tegulae and modest grave goods, which may be ascribed to the Italian population (civil and military), in cities such as Carmo, Corduba, and Hispalis.65 However, this evidence already belongs to a different world, which progressively opened to the wider Empire –​an increasingly provincial world, in which cultural diversity became the norm in the two provinces into which Hispania Ulterior was divided in 27 63 64 65

The subject of a recent work by Ramos and García Vargas (2014). Tabales Rodríguez 2015, 83 ff. Jiménez Díez 2008, for a comprehensive overall view. Hispalis and Corduba were coloniae and Carmo probably a municipium.

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bce: Ulterior Baetica, with its capital in Colonia Patricia Corduba (Cordova); and Ulterior Lusitania, with its capital in Colonia Augusta Emerita (Mérida). However, that is another story and must be told another time. 4

Epilogue: Forms of Identity among Italian Groups in Hispania During the Late Republic

Nowadays the romanization of Hispania Ulterior is viewed as a complex cultural process which led to a radical transformation of the system of collective representations by which indigenous groups expressed their identities. Indigenous groups were forced to adapt to the new arrangement of power relations which resulted from the conversion of a large part of Iberia into a Roman provincial territory. The idea of romanization as a ‘civilising’ process affecting ‘backward’ indigenous communities has been rejected, but so has the opposite, seemingly more nuanced, position, according to which both the conquerors and conquered were transformed by an experience of mutual cultural contact. Today the accepted notion is that that there were as many romanizations as there were individual and/​or regional situations, and that the exact form that romanization took in any given context depended on the inidividual circumstances of that context.66 This is equally true of the Italian immigrants in Iberia, whose ethnic identity remains largely unknown; this is to some degree unsurprising, not so much because of the relatively small numbers of Italians present until the great colonizing operations of the late first century bce, but because of their heterogeneous geographical, cultural, and social origins.67 Thus, the emergence (or maintenance) of a common origin-​based ethnic identity was prevented, at a time when these same Italian identities were being integrated into the wider Roman sphere through the extension of full citizenship status to Italian communities. The issue is not that the Italians in Iberia lacked horizontal forms of solidarity to define their identity, but rather that these links were not of an ethnic nature. Apart from ethnicity, identity is also reflective of gender, age, religion, occupation, and political affiliation –​understood as an individual’s position in the relevant power struggle.68 In reality, all identity relationships are determined by contradictory power tensions, which are often implicit; thus, power is here defined as a substantive manifestation of horizontal and vertical links, which generate social dependency and classify individuals according to class and occupation. 66 67 68

Cf. Jiménez Díaz 2008, 353 ff. Wulff Alonso 2008. Fernández Götz 2014, 33–​34.

184 García Vargas Being Italian was not an ‘ethnic characteristic’ as such, but rather a name that denoted a certain geographical origin. It was used in this sense by Dio­ dorus Siculus (5.36) when he spoke of the many Italians overtaking the mines of Iberia. To be fair, the wider significance of ‘Italian’ transcended this meaning:  it conferred a certain social superiority, which crystallized in privileged access to certain trades and leases, as well as the possibility of acquiring property (mainly real estate), even if not under the condition of full ownership.69 All of this occurred under a legal framework which was far removed from the blood ties which ruled ownership in most local groups, an ownership which had been partially lost as a consequence of war. These sorts of ‘political’ identities and loyalties, if that is how they must be called, were made manifest through official channels, such as the deduction of colonies or the foundation of municipalities (mostly under the ius latii). These actions individualized privileged communities and distinguished them from the vernacular ones living in ‘indigenous’ towns. The Roman citizens living in these unprivileged towns were also organized according to ‘Roman’ criteria. Chiefly, these criteria took the shape of unofficial and ‘private’ forms of association, which were nonetheless inspired by official forms of association. This was the case with several types of corporations, societates, and collegia, which must have played a fundamental role (as demonstrated by their prominence in the few Republican inscriptions preserved) in holding together groups of immigrants living in indigenous cities, regardless of their origin or even their social class. Jointly with the epigraphic evidence for such solidarity and private identities, other forms of material culture should also be considered when investigating the identity of Italian groups: for example, funerary evidence and, most importantly, the kind of table ware in use (which indicates the popularity of wine) in highly ‘Italianized’ contexts, such as at the mine of La Loba or Calle Argote de Molina no. 7 in Seville. It is difficult to directly relate ‘Italian’ table habits to the diverse convivia and other ceremonies in the life of professional corporations and business societies, although it is likely that some sort of social relationships were behind the most romanized material assemblages recorded in the region in the late second century bce. The ‘romanization of consumption’ could therefore be described as a differentiating element, that is, as the adoption by vernacular groups of a ‘romanized’ form of consumption (at the ethnic level), and its association with a given social identity that was normally restricted to Italians and their clients (political level), who were present in the most active economic areas. On the other

69

Wulff Alonso 2001, 527.

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185

hand, local assemblages of amphorae, destined for the transport of fishing and agricultural products, were also ‘romanized’ at a considerable pace after the opening decades of the first century bce. Concerning commerce, it is much harder to establish the role played by the Italians (represented, for example, by the amphorae of El Rinconcillo or the Ovoid amphorae from the Guadalquivir Valley), and how much the process was due to the relatively speedy adaptation of local commercial interests to Roman distribution networks (e.g. in the case of the Dressel 1 type and the ovoid types from Cádiz). The latter would explain the mention in amphorae stamps of indigenous individuals conducting business in the Roman-​style. Such is the case of the mercator Q. Fabius Arisism,70 whose cognomen on the titulus pictus of a Gaditanian Ovoid amphora found in Villaricos gives away his Punic origin. However, the analysis of commercial mechanisms is another matter altogether, and the constraints of space do not allow for further elaboration. 70

Mateo Corredor 2013.

Chapter 11

Epilogue: A New Paradigm for Romanization? Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti This country [Iberia interior], to be sure, has only a moderately happy lot, but that which lies next to it [Turdetania] on the east and south takes pre-​eminence in comparison with the entire inhabited world in respect of fertility (…) The Turdetanians are ranked as the wisest of the Iberians; (Strab. 3.1.6) (…) The Turdetanians, however, and particularly those that live about the Baetis, have completely changed over to the Roman mode of life, not ever remembering their own language any more. And most of them have become Latins, and they have received Romans as colonists, so that they are not far from being all Romans (Strab. 3.2.15; Trans. Jones, Loeb, 1949). In population, however, Gades does not fall short, it would seem, of any of the cities except Rome; at any rate I have heard that in one of the censuses of our own time there were five hundred men assessed as Gaditanian Knights, a number not equalled even in the case of the Italian cities except Patavium (Strab. 3.5.3; Trans. Jones, Loeb, 1949).1

∵ Twenty centuries after Strabo wrote these words, romanization still dominates Spanish studies on the Roman conquest and settlement of Iberia. Traditional scholarship considered the full transformation of a territory into Roman ways of life as the ultimate step towards development. In this context, Turdetania-​ Baetica became the ideal model for romanization.* Using Turdetania as a case study, the chapters in this volume contribute towards presenting two novel methodological approaches: a new definition for

* orcid: http://​orcid.org/​0000-​0002-​4477-​0715 1 Cruz Andreotti 1993, 1994, 2007, and 2010; and Castro-Páez in this same volume.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2019 | DOI:10.1163/9789004382978_

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identity and a new way of understanding romanization, be it as hybridization, creolization or bricolage. Some of the suggestions and answers offered in relation to the issues discussed in this book transcend the boundaries of the Turdetanian question. Research on ancient identities has abandoned essentialist views and adopted a historical approach, especially after the ground-​breaking work of J. Hall.2 In practice, this means identity references belonging to a specific historical context may no longer be applicable once circumstances change. Hence, we must no longer speak of ‘identity’, but of ‘identities’. No one is capable today of speaking of a single ‘Greek identity’; we should rather speak of multiple ‘Greek identities’, which may have shared common traits, while at the same time maintaining significant differences, ranging from city to city and through time. This premise is perfectly applicable to the Turdetanian world. As has been shown,3 ‘Turdetanian’ is an ethnonym created after the arrival of Rome, used to define a large territory located around the Guadalquivir Valley which was shared by various ethnic groups. Literary evidence shows that, due to historical transformations, this territory was not defined by geographical boundaries. The sources therefore speak of ‘ethnic boundaries’, which were vague and subject to change over time.4 Although there are sufficient grounds to argue in favour of a central or nuclear Turdetania around the Baetis River, the fact that the term ‘Turdetanian’ is applied to different ethnic realities in the sources clearly shows that the term was used as an agglutinant,5 which was useful to the Romans for understanding a very heterogeneous territory in a cohesive manner. Hence, it has been impossible for archaeologists to identify a recognizable ‘Turdetanian culture’.6 Among such diversity, there is one common element:  a Phoenician-​Punic substrate, which left a strong cultural imprint, not only on the coastal populations, but also on wide areas of the interior. In fact, archaeological finds of the past years have brought to light this Phoenician imprint in hybrid populations, which were characterized by a mix of local and eastern traits, ultimately leading to the creation of a new cultural reality. The defining characteristic of this 2 Hall 1997 (see Hall 2002). 3 Moret and Cruz Andreotti in this same volume. 4 The differences between Strabo, Agrippa and Pliny (vid. Pliny nh 3.8) concerning the extent of these Bastuli of Phoenician origin at either side of the Strait (or further or closer from the Guadiana River) are very symptomatic of what is being argued: ethnic groups change in their nature, composition and space through time (vid. Figs. 2.2, 2.3 and 2.4 and the contributions of P. Moret and E. Ferrer Albelda). 5 Bastuli, Bastuli-​Punic, Blasto-​Phoenician, Turduli, south-​western Celts and even Bastetanians. 6 García Fernández 2012, and in this same volume.

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Cruz Andreotti

hybridization was the expansion of urban life, a key factor for understanding later contributions and adaptations during the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Other eastern traces surviving in pre-​Roman Guadalquivir culture may be found in coinage, territorial organization, funerary monuments and traditions related to religion and foundational rituals. As regards population, there is ample evidence for mixed or strongly Punic communities, which consequently could be described as having multi-​cultural identities.7 According to Strabo (Strab. 3.5.5), Gades, a city of 500 knights (Strabo, cit. supra), was embellished by the local patrician Balbus in the Roman fashion (Strab. 3.5.3). However, the city’s origins were described as Greek or Phoenician, depending on the social group trying to impose its view. This is the best example of shared ethno-​political identities co-​existing in the heart of Phoenician Turdetania during the Roman period.8 This last reflection leads to a new way of understanding romanization. Turdetania no longer stands as a traditional example of romanization, understood in the sense of converting to ‘Roman’ ways of life, as described by Strabo (3.2.15, cit. supra). Roman expansion only covered an initial –​mainly military –​phase, based on a swift and systematic pacification, tax collection and troop recruitment.9 While all this took place, Rome also developed bilateral relations with the local communities, following Roman norms and practices (as evidenced on inscriptions), although without imposing a Roman standard model of organization. This diverse scenario is clear from early on: in the 189 bce Turris Lascutana decree of Paulus Aemilius (which recorded the foundation of a peregrine civitas ex novo);10 in the 171 bce foundation of Carteia, populated by the children of indigenous women and veterans;11 or in the Tabula Alcantariensis, which recorded the 104 bce decree of Lucius Caesio (the deditio of a populus, without known civitas);12 all of which are but a few examples.13 It is known and accepted that Republican Rome relied on the autonomy of provincial magistrates and their capacity to adapt policy to suit local circumstances without

7 8 9 10 11 12 13

See the contributions of Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar, Ferrer Albelda, Mora Serrano or Machuca Prieto in this same volume. See Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar 2012a and Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar and Machuca in this same volume. In the words of Machuca: ‘Phoenician way to be Roman’ (2017, Chap. 6, 577 ff.) Cadiou 2008. cil I2, 614 = II, 5041. Bronze found near Alcalá de los Gazules, Cádiz. It records the creation of a new civitas separating the community of the Hasta a few years before the Second Punic War, in the midst of a process of territorial reorganization. Livy 43.3.3–​4. Wulff 1989, 43–​58. ae 1984, 495 = Gerión 2 (1984), 266 ss. Bronze found near Alcántara, Cáceres. It is a deditio, restituting freedom (under surveillance) for the people of the Seano. Vid. Laurence et al. 2011, 76–​97.

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detracting from the overall pre-​eminence of Rome. The state could function as a mediator or as an organizer (with greater or lesser impact), according to the circumstances.14 In southern Iberia, Rome found solid foundations to secure and build its authority upon, a less costly process than more top-​down alternatives. Pre-​Roman development of the area –​mainly with respect to urbanism and communication networks –​combined with an ancient civic tradition, deeply rooted in the communities, provided favourable conditions for the establishment of Rome’s authority, that is, the systematic (although localized) exploitation of the territory by Italian contingents.15 The development and consolidation of Roman structures and organization may have been facilitated by a very strong and early Punic influence among the indigenous communities,16 which left them more open to the development of the oligarchic and civic political models and identities common throughout the Mediterranean.17 The hellenization of Turdetania or Gades, described by Strabo, does not overshadow the important Semitic substrate in the region. It may reflect a ‘Roman’ model, in which the local populations progressively created their own ‘narratives of identity’, never becoming genuinely Italian or remaining particularly indigenous. The adaptation and reinterpretation of ancient myths associated with the far west and the foundation of colonies contributed to this hybridization process,18 including figures like Heracles or Odysseus, as well as other archaic myths, which were conveniently updated.19 Urban society was competitive. All communities wished to participate in the past, which also included a Roman phase; the long and diverse (reinvented) historical tradition of Turdetania made this participation possible.20

14 15 16 17 18

19

20

Díaz Fernández 2016. Marín Díaz 1987 (contra Wulff 2001 and 2006); Keay 1997; García Vargas et al. 2008; García Vargas in this same volume. Pliego Vázquez and Ferrer Albelda in this same volume. Ortiz de Urbina 2012, 191–​222. Mora Serrano, Cruz Andreotti, Machuca, Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar, and Castro-​Páez in this same volume. Johnston (2017, 125–​189) has recently defended, along similar lines as Cruz Andreotti (1993, 2007 and 2010) the recovery in the Roman period of a Tartessian or Herculean past, the adoption of origin myths, such as the myth of Gargoris or Habis in Justin-​ Trogus, or the arrival of Homeric heroes, such as Odysseus, as part of the construction of a local identity under a Hellenistic cultural sphere. Woolf 2011, 24–​26. Bickerman (1952) already stated the central role played by Posidonius and Asclepiades (who actually set foot in Turdetania!) as important sources in Strabo’s description of Turdetania (vid. Cruz Andreotti in these same pages and Johnston 2017, especially 146–​159 for the nostoi and Heracles, and 136-​141 for Tartessus, Gargoris and Habis as part of the ‘local identity’). Vid. ns. 18 and 19.

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‘Roman identity’ was based, particularly at the beginning, on political and legal principles which could be adapted to suit local circumstances, laying the foundation for the consolidation of military control.21 Several observable phenomena point in this direction: the numerous local variations uncovered by the recent development of western ‘Roman provincial archaeology’; the influential role of ethnic identities in the construction of new political realities, even in the most ‘romanized’ of regions, such as Turdetania;22 or the religious and cultural continuity of pre-​Roman traditions. The continuity in Turdetania of ancient urbanism, religion, culture, language or ethnonyms, and their adaptation to the new imperial reality, should not be seen as a survival of the past, but rather as part of a ‘multi-​ethnic’ and ‘multi-​cultural’ romanization resulting in plural identities.23 The widespread use of Latin illustrates, rather than contradicts, this view. It was used as a bridge language in exchanges with the empire or as the manifestation of social status in the Roman political apparatus.24 The same may be said for the use of Roman legal structures.25 21 22 23 24 25

Le Roux 2006, 72 ss.; see also Caballos Rufino and Lefebvre. eds. 2011., esp. the contributions of Le Roux, Beltrán Lloris and Pina Polo; finally, Santos Yanguas and Cruz Andreotti eds. 2012, passim. Cf. Strabo, Pliny or Ptolemy. By way of example: civitates, which retained their ethnonym as part of their official name, such as Colonia Augusta Gemella Tucci; Res Publica Tuccitanorum (cil II, 5.74–​80). Revell 2016, especially 41-​60. Beltrán Lloris 2004b, 86–​106; Lowe 2016, 45–​55. Le Roux 2006.

Bibliography Abad Casal, L., C. Fernández Ochoa, Á. Fuentes Domínguez, and M. Bendala Galán. 1987. ‘Aproximación al urbanismo prerromano y a los fenómenos de transición y de potenciación tras la conquista.’ In Los asentamientos ibéricos ante la romanización, 121–​140. Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura. Abad Casal, L., C. Fernández Ochoa, Á. Fuentes Domínguez, and M. Bendala Galán. 1997. ‘Urbanismo y ciudad:  de las formaciones ibéricas a la consolidación del modelo romano.’ In Actas del XXIII Congreso Nacional de Arqueología. Vol 2, 11–​20. Elche: Ayuntamiento de Elche. Abascal Palazón, J.M. 1994. Los nombres personales en las inscripciones latinas de Hispania. Anejos de Antigüedad y Cristianismo, 2. Murcia: Univ. de Murcia. Acquaro, E. and L.I. Manfredi. 1989. ‘Rassegna di numismatica punica. 1986–​1988.’ Studi di egittologia e di antichità puniche 5:5–​65. Adroher Auroux, A., A. Caballero Cobos, A. Sánchez Moreno, J.A. Salvador Oyonate, and F.J. Brao González. 2006. ‘Estructuras defensivas tardorrepublicanas en el ámbito rural de la Bastetania.’ In Arqueología militar romana en Hispania. Vol. II: Producción y abastecimiento en el ámbito militar, ed. by A. Morillo, 629–​631. León: Univ. de León. Alarcão, A., P. Parvalho, and A. Gonçalves. 2010. Castelo da Lousa: intervenções arqueológicas de 1997 a 2002. Studia Lusitana 9. Badajoz: Consejería de Innovación. Junta de Extremadura. Alfaro Asins, C. 1991. ‘Epigrafía monetal púnica y neopúnica en Hispania. Ensayo de síntesis.’ In Ermanno A. Arslan Studia Dicata. Glaux 7:109–156. Alfaro Asins, C. 1988. Las Monedas de Gadir/​Gades. Madrid: Fundación para el Fomento de los Estudios Numismáticos. Alfaro Asins, C. 1993a. ‘Lote de monedas cartaginesas procedentes del dragado del puerto de Melilla.’ Numisma 232:9–​46. Alfaro Asins, C. 1993b. ‘Una nueva ciudad púnica en Hispania: TGLYT -​Res Publica Tagilitana, Tíjola (Almería).’ AEspA 60:229–​243. Alfaro Asins, C. 1998. ‘Las emisiones feno-​púnicas.’ In Historia monetaria de Hispania Antigua, 50–​115. Madrid: Jesús Vico S.A. Alfaro Asins, C. 2000. ‘Consideraciones sobre la moneda púnica foránea en la Península Ibérica y su entorno.’ Boletín del Museo Arqueológico Nacional 18:21–​68. Alfaro Asins, C. 2003. ‘Isis en las monedas de Baria y Tagilit.’ Numisma 247:7–​18. Alfaro Asins, C. and C. Marcos. 1994. ‘Tesorillo de moneda cartaginesa hallado en la Torre de Doña Blanca.’ AEspA 67:229–​244. Alfaro Asins, C. and C. Marcos. 1995. ‘Avance sobre la circulación monetaria en la Torre de Doña Blanca (Puerto de Santa María, Cádiz).’ In Actas del IIº Congreso Internacional del Estrecho de Gibraltar. Vol. ii. 391–​402. Madrid: Universidad Nacional de Educación a Distancia.

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Wulff Alonso, F. 1989. ‘La fundación de Carteya: Algunas notas.’ Studia Historica. Historia antigua 7:43–​58. Wulff Alonso, F. 1991. Romanos e Itálicos en la Baja República: Estudios sobre sus relaciones entre la II Guerra Púnica y la Guerra Social (202–​91 a.C.). Bruxelles: Latomus. Wulff Alonso, F. 2001. ‘Sociedades, economías, culturas.’ In Citerior y Ulterior: las provincias romanas de Hispania en la era republicana. Historia de España, vol. 3, ed. by J.M. Roldán Hervás and F. Wulff Alonso, 349–​614. Madrid: Istmo. Wulff Alonso, F. 2003. Las esencias patrias. Historiografía e Historia Antigua en la cons­ trucción de la identidad española (siglos XVI–​XX). Barcelona: Crítica. Wulff Alonso, F. 2006. ‘¿Roma  =  oligarquías romanas? Notas desconcertadas sobre poder romano y estructuras políticas en Hispania e Italia durante la baja República.’ In Repúblicas y ciudadanos: Modelos de participación cívica en el Mundo Antiguo, ed. by F. Marco Simón, F. Pina Polo, J. Remesal Rodríguez, 235–​255. Barcelona: Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad Autónoma. Wulff Alonso, F. 2007. ‘Las provincias de Hispania en época republicana: una reflexión sobre enfoques y perspectivas.’ In Santos Yanguas and Torregaray, 441–​67. Wulff Alonso, F. 2008. ‘La transformación de las comunidades indígenas.’ In Entre fenicios y visigodos: la historia antigua de la Península Ibérica, dir. by J. Alvar Ezquerra, 251–​266. Madrid: La Esfera de los Libros. Wulff Alonso, F. 2009. ‘¿Por qué las identidades hoy?: Historia antigua y arqueología ante un cambio de paradigma.’ In Wulff and Álvarez, eds. 11–​50. Wulff Alonso, F. and M. Álvarez Martí-​Aguilar. eds. 2009. Identidades, culturas y terri­ torios en la Andalucía prerromana. Sevilla:  Univ. de Sevilla; Málaga:  Servicio de ­Publicaciones de la Universidad de Málaga. Xella, P. 2014, ‘Origini e identità. Riflessioni sul caso dei fenici.’ MEFRA 162.2 (https://​ mefra.revues.org/​2278). Yardley, J.C. 1994. Justin, Epitome of the Philippic history of Pompeius Trogus. Translated by J.C. Yardley with introduction and explanatory notes by R. Develin. Society for Classical Studies Classical. The American Philological Association. Atlanta, Ga: Scholars Press. Yarrow, L.M., 2013, ‘Heracles, Coinage and the West: Three Hellenistic Case-​Studies.’ In Prag and Quinn, eds. 348–​366. Zamora López, J.A. 2007. ‘La inscripción sobre fragmento de pizarra hallada en Alcalá del Río: un excepcional epígrafe neopúnico.’ In Ferrer et al., eds. 131–​147. Zamora López, J.A., E. Ferrer, E. Prados, and A. Fernández Flores. 2004. ‘Hallazgos recientes en Alcalá del Río (Sevilla), antigua Ilipa Magna: una placa de pizarra con inscripción neopúnica.’ Riv.Stud.Fen. 32.2:77–​89. Zamora López, J.A., E. Ferrer, E. Prados, and A. Sáez, A. 2014. ‘The Oceanfront of Phoenician Cádiz: A New Epigraphic Find and its Palaeogeographic Context.’ In Botto, ed. 252–​264.

Index of Geographical Names All indexes have been compiled by Gonzalo Cruz Andreotti and Encarnación Castro-​Páez1 Abdera (= Adra; Almería) xv, 6, 41tab.3.1, 131–​132, 141–​142, 146, 150, 153, 155, 157, 159 Abla (Abla, Almería) 155, 157 Abra (Cabra, Cordova?) 151 Acutia (= Acontia; Toro, Zamora?) 41tab.3.1 Africa 35n5, 77, 92n15, 93–​94, 106, 119, 126, 137, 158n51 Libya 100, 121, 123. See also Libyans North-​Africa 64, 72, 77, 79, 85, 90, 115, 118, 121–​122, 135n26, 136, 142, 150, 160 Akra Leuke (Alicante?; Carmona?) 102, 105. See also Lucentum Alba (Olba?) 87 Alentejo (region; Portugal) 174 Alto 181 Baixo 27, 171, 180, 181 Algarve (Region, Portugal) 28, 73, 87, 121 Algeciras (bay of, Cádiz) 113, 117, 178 Algeciras (city of, Cádiz) 79, 177 Algeria (Algiers) 93n23 Ambrosial Rocks 115 Amphilochi (city?) 41tab.3.1 Anas (river) 24–​26, 26n42, 37, 49, 176 Guadiana 4, 18, 49n9, 50, 65, 73, 176, 187n4 Andalusia xin17, xvi, 24, 33, 52–​53, 56, 60, 62, 66, 75, 77, 95, 99, 104–​105, 131–​132, 135, 135n28, 139, 142n54, 146, 168 Andújar (mine; Sierra Morena, Jaén) 172 Añoreta i (Fuentes de Andalucía, Seville) 96n50 Apani (Brindisi, Italy) 181 Aragon (region) 17 Arenal ii (Fuentes de Andalucía, Seville) 96, 96n50 Argamasilla (Fuentes de Andalucía, Seville) 96n50 Arse. 156. See also Saguntum

Asido (Medina Sidonia, Cádiz) 146, 157 Asta (Mesas de Asta, Jerez de la Frontera, Cádiz) 18, 41tab.3.1, 42, 82, 96, 146 Hasta Regia 81, 188n10 Mesas de Asta 96 Astigis (Écija, Seville) 41tab.3.1 Firma Astigi 182 Ategua (Castillo de Teba or Teba la Vieja, Cordova) 41–​42, 97n57 Athena (temple of) 6 Atlantic coast 9, 26, 146 Augusta Emerita (Mérida, Badajoz) 26, 29, 41tab.3.1, 44–​45, 183 Emerita 29 Augusta Raurica (Augst, Switzerland) 104 Augustobriga (Talavera la Vieja, Cáceres) 24n33 Azaila (Teruel) 94n32 Aznalcóllar (mine; Seville) 101, 165, 168, 172 Badajoz (province) 87, 180 Baelo Claudia (Bolonia, Cádiz) 141, 178 Bailo/​Bailon 50n14, 157, 177 Belon 41tab.3.1 Baena (Cordova) 97n57 Baesuri (Castro Marín, Portugal) 86 Baetica vii, xii, xiii, 1, 3–​4, 6, 12–​13, 16, 18, 21–​22, 24, 26–​30, 32, 49, 75, 131, 143, 149n3, 186. See also Turdetania Ulterior Baetica 183 Baetis (river;) xi, 3, 23–​26, 37, 42, 44–​45, 176, 186–​187. See also Tartessus, river; Guadalquivir, river Baetis (valley) 4, 16, 20, 22, 24–​27, 29, 40, 42, 159. See also Guadalquivir, valley Baetis (estuary) 81, 87 Baetis (city) 40–​41 Baeturia 16, 26, 28–​29, 50, 50n14, 81, 87, 102. See also Baetis; Turdetania

1 Unless indicated otherwise, all place-​names, hydronyms, ethnonyms etc., they are from Spain. Iberia or Iberian Peninsula not included.

Index of Geographical Names Baeturia turdulorum 50. See also Turduli Bailo/​Bailon. See Baelo Balearic Islands 36, 39n29. See also Pityussae Balsa (circa of Tavira, Portugal) 86 Baños de la Encina (mine; Sierra Morena, Jaén) 172 Baria (Villaricos, Cuevas del Almanzora, Almería) xv, 84, 86, 99n69, 132, 146, 153, 155, 155n34, 156, 156n40, 162fi.9.2 c) Villaricos 83, 155, 156n40 Bardo (Paradas, Seville) 82 Bastetania 4, 50. See also Bastetanians Bastulo-​Phoenician (coast) 4. See also Bastuli; Bastoulians; Bastetanians; Phoenicians Belon. See Baelo Beuipo (=Salacia; Alcácer do Sal, Setúbal, Portugal) 158, 159, 163fig 9.3 a) Bilbilis (Calatayud, Zaragoza) 41tab.3.1 Bizerte (Tunis) 137 Botorrita (Zaragoza) 21n26 Brundisium (Brindisi, Italy) 181 Brutobriga (Villanueva de la Serena, Badajoz?) 24 Cabezo de Vulcano (Mazarrón, Murcia) 180 Cádiz (city) 3n12, 19, 25, 29, 79, 83, 96n46, 131n7, 179, 185. See also Gades/​Gadir Cadiz (bay of) 131, 142, 178–​179 Cádiz (province of) 20, 87, 95, 96 Caesar Augusta (Zaragoza) 41tab.3.1, 44–​45 Caesarobriga (Talavera de la Reina, Toledo) 24n33 Ca L’Arnau (Cabrera de Mar, Barcelona) 173 Cala Tramontana (Marocco) 93 Calagurris (Calahorra, La Rioja) 41tab.3.1 Calle Argote de Molina, nº 7 (excavation; city of Seville) 175, 184 Calle Dr. Fleming, nº 13–​15 (excavation; city of Carmona, Seville) 182 Calle González Parejo, nº 9 A (excavation; city of Carmona, Seville) 181 Calle San Fernando (excavation; city of Seville) 96, 96n47 Callenses (Aeneanici, city of; Montellano, Seville) 180 Calp (city; Alicante) 36

241 Calpe (city; = Kalpe; Heracleia? Carteia?) 3n12, 25, 41tab.3.1, 114, 116 Campania/​Campanian (Italy) 62, 63fig.4.3, 64, 145fig.8.4, 174–​175, 182 Canaan (Palestine; Israel) 88 Cantabrian (mountains; region) 2, 37, 38, 41tab.3.1 Can Tacó (Montmeló/​Montornès del Vallès, Barcelona) 173 Cape Palos (Cartagena, Murcia) 73 Cape St. Vincent (Algarve, Portugal) 73. See also Sacred Promontory Carbula (Almodóvar del Río, Cordova)  151–​152, 162fig9.1 b), c), d) Carissa (Cortijo de Carija, Cádiz) 157, 161 Carmo/​Carmona (Carmona, Seville) ix, 18, 41tab.3.1, 65, 82, 102, 105, 136n29, 141, 146, 157, 180–​182, 182n65 Carpetania/​Karpêtania 4, 18, 23, 23n31. See also Carpetanians Cartagena (Murcia) 79, 166, 168n11, 180. See also Qart Hadast; Carthage Nova Cartalia/​as (between Ebro river and Saguntum?) 41tab.3.1, 79 Cartare (island; near Odiel river?) 79 Cartaya (Huelva) 79 Carteia (Colonia Libertinorum…; Cortijo del Rocadillo, San Roque, Cádiz) 23, 41tab.3.1, 65, 74, 79–​81, 84, 86, 96, 113–​119, 122, 127, 131, 146, 164, 176–​178, 188. See also Calpe Carthage (Libya) xiv, 14, 72, 77, 84–​86, 88, 90, 90n7, 92, 92n14, 92n15, 99, 99n69, 100–​101, 101n78, 105–​109, 114–​115, 117–​127, 129, 132–​134, 134n19, 135, 135n26, 136n29, 136n30, 137–​139, 154n29 Carthago Nova (=New Carthage; Cartagena, Murcia) 18, 38, 41–​42, 166. See also Cartagena Cartima (Cártama, Málaga) 79 Casa de la Viña (Torre del Mar, Vélez-​ Málaga) 83 Castelo da Lousa (Évora, Portugal) 171 Castulo/​Castalo (Linares, Jaén) xv, 4, 18–​19, 22, 97n57, 151, 151n15, 159, 175–​176 Saltus castulonensis (mid-​upper Guadiana River; Cordova –​Jaén –​Albacete Provinces) 4, 18–​19, 21 Caura (Coria del Río, Seville) 87

242  Caurium (Coria, Cáceres) 29 Celsa (Colonia ...; Velilla de Ebro, Zaragoza) 41tab.3.1 Celti (Peñaflor, Seville) 97n57 Celtiberia 2n5, 17, 21, 23, 23n31, 37, 37n18, 38, 41–​42, 76. See also Celtiberians Celtiberian (plateaus) 2 Cerro de la Atalaya (Lahiguera, Jaén) 180 Cerro de la Tortuga (Málaga) 84 Cerro de los Caballos (La Puebla de los Infantes, Seville) 97n57 Cerro del Prado (San Roque, Cádiz) 113, 114, 116, 117 Cerro del Trigo (Puebla de don Fadrique, Granada) 174 Cerro Máquiz (Mengíbar, Jaén) 97 Cerro Naranja (Jerez de la Frontera, Cádiz) 121 Cerros de San Pedro (Fuentes de Andalucía, Seville) 96, 96n50, 97, 98, 103, 105 Cherronesus (Peñíscola, Castellón?) 41tab.3.1 Cinisi (Palermo, Sicily, Italy) 98 Cisalpine Gaul (France) 35n5 Colonia Augusta Gemella Tucci; Res Publica Tuccitanorum. See Tuccis Colonia Iulia Romula Hispalis. See Hispalis Colonia Patricia Corduba. See Corduba Colonia Augusta Emerita. See Augusta Emerita Conistorgis (Medellín, Badajoz?; South-​ Alentejo, Portugal?) 41tab.3.1 Contestania 118 Contrebia Carbica (Fosos de Bayona, Cuenca) 23n31 conventus carthaginensis 76 Corbones (river; valley) 99 Cortalago (mine; Nerva, Huelva) 168 Corta Dehesa (mine; Riotinto, Huelva) 168 Corduba (Colonia Patricia ...; Cordova)  40–​42, 65, 182, 182n65, 183 Cortijo de Ébora (Sanlúcar de Barrameda, Cádiz) 95 Cosa (Tuscany, Italy) 95 Cotinae/​as (miner town; Sierra Morena?) 39n29 Cyprus (island) 131n7 Delos (island) 118 Dertossa (Tortosa, Tarragona) 41tab.3.1

Index of Geographical Names Diógenes (mine; Valle de Alcudia, Sierra Morena, Jaén) 168 Didyme (antipolis of Gades) 42 Durius (Douro, river) 27, 37 Douro (valley) 23 Ebro (river) 15, 18, 19fig.2.1, 20, 98. See Iber Ebro (valley) 15, 20–​21, 168, 168n11 Ebura (near Sanlúcar de Barrameda, Cádiz) 41tab.3.1 Ebusus (Ibiza) xv, 41tab.3.1, 72, 79, 84, 86, 94, 132, 146, 148, 150, 153, 155 Egelasta (Iniesta, Cuenca?; Yecla, Murcia?) 41tab.3.1 Elche (Alicante) 94n32 El Castillejo (El Campillo, Huelva) 170, 170fig.10.3, 171 El Centenillo (mine; Baños de la Encina, La Carolina, Sierra Morena, Jaén) 168, 173 El Gandul (Alcalá de Guadaíra, Seville) 89, 90, 92, 96, 96n50, 97–​98, 102–​105, 121, 136n29 El Tesorillo (Teba, Málaga) 172 El Rinconcillo (Bay of Gibraltar, Algeciras, Cádiz) 176, 177, 177n49, 178fig10.4, 185 Emporium (La Escala, Gerona) 41–​42 Epirus (Greece) 35n5 Erythia (Gades’ Island) 3, 3n12, 123 Escoriales-​Solana de Cerrajeros (mine; Andújar, Jaén) 172 Exitanians (city of).  See Sexi Extremadura (region) 4, 24, 27, 50, 99, 102n87, 171 Fair promontory (Carthage, Libya) 122 Faro (Algarve, Portugal) 121 Firma Astigi (Colonia Augusta Firma ...) 182. See Astigis Fuente de la Reina (Fuentes de Andalucía, Seville) 96n50 Fuentidueñas (Écija, Seville) 96n57 Gades (city) 2, 3, 10, 18, 25, 39n29, 40–​42, 74–​75, 79, 80–​82, 86–​87, 109, 115–​117, 119–​120, 126–​131, 141, 141fig. 8.2, 142, 145–​146, 150, 171, 178, 186, 188–​189. See also Cádiz; Erythia Gadeira 126

Index of Geographical Names Gadir xiv–​x v4n12, 53, 64, 79, 81, 84–​88, 99n69, 100, 105, 108–​120, 122, 124–​128, 132–​133, 135, 135n26, 136n30, 137–​138, 138fig.8.1, 138n41, 139, 144, 149, 152–​159, 163fig9.2 a), 177–​178 Gaditanian (area; coast; countryside) 3n12, 50n14, 65, 75, 103, 159 Gaditanian (city) 40, 130 Gaditanian (colony of) 113, 118–​119 Gaditanian (temple). See Heracleion of Gades Gallaecia 2 Gaul xxiii, 35n5 Genil (river; valley) 65 Germania 104 Giancola (Brindisi, Italy) 181 Giribaile (Vilches, Jaén) 97n57 Gorham’s Cave (Gibraltar, uk) 84, 84n41 Gravisca (Porto Clementino, Italy) 95 Greece 35n5, 131n7 Greek islands 35n5 Guadaíra/​Iro (river) 176 Guadalajara (province) 21n28 Guadalete (river) 179 Guadalquivir (river) xi4n12, 21, 27, 46, 50, 50n14, 64, 98, 102n87, 121, 131, 171, 174, 176, 181–​182. See also Tartessus, river; Baetis, river Lower Guadalquivir 13, 18, 21–​22, 29, 33, 46, 60, 98, 104–​105, 140 Mid Guadalquivir 65 Upper Guadalquivir 19, 21 Guadalquivir (valley) ix–​x , xiii, xxii, 3–​4, 13, 15–​16, 18, 21, 23–​24, 52, 52n19, 53–​54, 63, 65, 99, 105–​106, 132, 136n29, 138n41, 165, 171, 174, 179, 180–​182, 185, 187. See also Baetis, valley Guadiamar/​Maenuba (river) 87, 171–​172, 174, 176 Guadiana (river). See Anas Gulf of Lion 73 Gymnesiae /​Balearic Islands 36, 39n29, 41tab.3.1 Hasta Regia. See Asta Hellenes (city?) 41tab.3.1 Heraclea/​Heracleia/​Herakleia (city; Carteia?, Cádiz) 41tab.3.1, 79, 116. See also Calpe

243 Heracleion of Gades (=Herakleion) 3, 115, 152, 153. Sea also Heracles; Pillars of… Gaditanian (temple) 12, 42, 128, 144, 152, 153 Sanctuary of Melqart in Baria 84 Sanctuary of Melqart in Carteia 84 Sanctuary of Melqart in Carthage 84–​85 Sanctuary of Melqart in Gadir 80, 84–​85, 115–​117, 128, 144, 152 Sanctuary of Melqart in Lixus 80, 85 Sanctuary of Melqart in Malaca 84 Sanctuary of Melqart in Tyre 84–​85, 108, 113, 116, 119, 128 Hippacra (city; Tunis) 126 Hippana (city; Sicily, Italy) 93n28 Hispalis (Seville) 40, 41tab.3.1, 79, 79n32, 174, 176, 179, 181–​182, 182n65 Spal/​Ispal 61fig.4.2, 63fig.4.3, 64, 79 Colonia Iulia Romula Hispalis 182 Hispania vii–​v iii, viiin8, xin17, xiii, xv, 1, 11n45, 13–​14, 16–​18, 22–​24, 24n35, 26, 27fig.2.3, 28–​29, 31, 33, 75, 75n23, 76–​77, 82, 87, 101, 104n103, 109, 109n4, 111–​112, 127, 143–​144, 148–​150, 152–​154, 154n26, 155–​161, 164, 166, 173, 179–​180, 183 Hispania Citerior 15, 17–​18, 22–​23, 76, 117, 139, 168n11 Hispania Ulterior (= Ulterior Baetica) vii, xii, xvii–​x xiii, 15, 18, 20, 20n22, 21, 23, 75, 82, 139, 149n3, 160, 164, 166, 168, 168n11, 173, 179, 182–​183 Huelva 63fig.4.3, 102n87, 105, 131n7, 169, 174. See also Onuba Iaitas (Palermo, Sicily, Italy) 93n28, 98n62 Iber (river) 42. See Ebro Idubeda (mountains) 17 Ilerda (Lérida) 41tab.3.1 Ilipa Magna (=Ilienses, city of; Alcalá del Río, Seville) 15, 41, 63–​64, 87, 87n60, 142, 142n54, 146, 164–​165, 180 Ilipla (= Niebla; Huelva) 169 Iliturgi (Mengíbar, Jaén) 18 Intercatia (Paredes de Nava, Palencia?) 41tab.3.1 Ipses (south of Portugal?) 86 Iptuci (Prado del Rey, Cádiz) 146, 157, 161 Irippo (Mesa de Gandul, Alcalá de Guadaíra, Seville) 150, 180 Iro (river). See Guadaíra

244  Ispal (Seville). See Hispalis Italica (Santiponce, Seville) vii, 41tab.3.1, 61fig.4.2, 63fig.4.3, 164–​165, 179 Italy xvi, 9, 35, 80, 102, 171 Ituci (Tejada la Nueva, Escacena del Campo, Huelva) 87, 101n78, 161 Iulia Ioza/​Iulia Transducta (Algeciras, Cádiz) 41tab.3.1, 79–​80, 150 Iulia Constantia Zilis (Colonia …; Zilil/​Zilis, Marocco) 80 Jardín (Vélez-​Málaga, Málaga) 83 Júcar (river) 21 Kalpe. See Calpe Karpêssos (city) 23 Karpêtania. See Carpetania La Algaida (Pinar de La Algaida, Sanlúcar de Barrameda, Cádiz) 84, 84n41, 95 La Atalaya (Casariche, Seville) 97n57 La Balaguera (Valencia) 94n32 La Camorra de las Cabezuelas (Santaella, Cordova) 97n57 La Castellina (Tuscany, Italy) 95 Lacipo (Casares, Málaga) 161n69 Lacus Ligustinus 65, 99, 121, 146 Laelia (Cerro de la Cabeza, Olivares, Seville) 150 La Escuera (San Fulgencio, Alicante) 103n92 La Franca (Lora del Río, Seville) 97n57 Lagos (Algarrobo, Málaga) 83 La Loba (Fuente Obejuna, Cordova)  167–​168, 168n10, 168n11, 173, 184 La Palma d’Ebre (Tarragona) 98, 103n92 Las Cumbres (Puerto de Santa María, Cádiz) 96 Lascuta (=Turris Lascutana; near Alcalá de los Gazules, Cádiz) 81–​82, 146, 152–​153, 157, 160, 162fig.9.2 b), 188 La Serena (Badajoz) 180–​181 La Tablada (El Viso del Alcor, Seville) 97, 103 Laurita (Cerro del Castillo de San Miguel, Granada) 83 Les Corts (Empúries, Girona) 17n14 Libya. See Africa Lilibation (Sicily, Italy) 93n28 Linares (mine; Sierra Morena, Jaén) 172–​173

Index of Geographical Names Lixus (Larache, Morocco) 80, 85, 88, 160 Los Alcores (Seville) 99, 136n29 Los Castellares de Puente Genil (Cordova) 97 Los Nietos (Murcia) 94n32 Lusitania 2, 4, 20fig.2.2, 23, 26–​27, 36, 39n29, 41tab.3.1, 43, 50, 76–​77, 165–​167, 183. See also Lusitanians Ulterior Lusitania 183 Maenaca. See Malaca Maenoba (=Menobora, Torre del Mar, Málaga) 41tab.3.1, 74 Maenuba (river). See Guadiamar Magon (=Portus Magonis; Menorca) 79 Mainake. See Malaca Malió (Barcelona) 94n32 Malaca/​Mainake/​Malaka/​Maenaca (Málaga) xv, 41tab.3.1, 84, 131–​132, 142, 145fig.8.4, 146, 153 Maenaca 41tab.3.1 Malaka 81, 149, 150, 154–​155, 157 Málaga (bay of) 132n7 Malaka. See Malaca Mallorca (island) 94n32 Malta (island) 93, 98, 118, 119 Massilia (city) 78 Mastia (or Massia) 73, 73n17, 75, 88, 122 Mastia Tarseio 122, 135, 135n28 Mazarrón (Murcia) 180 Melilla (Libya) 98, 105 Menorca (island) 94n32 Menlaria (Ensenada de Valdevaqueros, Tarifa, Cádiz) 41tab.3.1 Mesa de Alcolea (Alcolea del Río, Seville) 97n57 Mesa del Almendro (Lora del Río, Seville) 97n57 Mesa del Castillo (Manzanilla, Huelva) 97n57 Mesa de Gandul. See Irippo Mesa de Setefilla (Lora del Río, Seville) 97n57 Mesas de Asta. See Asta Meseta (eastern) 21 Meseta (northern) 16 Meseta (southern) 21, 23, 32 Meseta (west) 24 Montalbán (Cordova) 97n57

245

Index of Geographical Names Monte Adranone (Sambuca, Sicily, Italy) 98 Monte Molião (Lagos, Portugal) 121 Montemolín (Marchena, Seville) 89n3, 97n57, 103, 103n92 Moron (Chôes de Alpompé, Santarém, Portugal) 41tab.3.1 Motya (Sicily, Italy) 91n9 Munda (city; Montilla, Cordova?; Cerro de la Atalaya or Alto de las Camorras, Osuna, Seville?; Llanos del Águila, La Lentejuela, Seville?) 41–​42, 159–​160, 179 Nabrissa (Lebrija, Seville) 41–​42, 159–​160 Nerva (mine; Huelva) 168 New Carthage (Cartagena, Murcia). See Carthago Nova Niebla. See Ilipla Noega (near Melsus river, Asturias) 41tab.3.1 North Africa. See Africa Numantia (Cerro de la Muela, Garray, Soria) 41tab.3.1, 42, 160n66 Oba (Jimena de la Frontera, Cádiz) 146, 160–​161 Obulco (Porcuna, Jaén) xv, 18, 41tab.3.1, 151–​152, 159, 162fig.9.1 a), 176 Ocean 8–​9, 38, 114, 123, 126, 136n30 Ocean (river) 8n23 Odysseia (city?) 6, 41tab.3.1 Oeaso (=Oiasso) (Irún, Guipúzcoa) 41tab.3.1 Oecumene 2, 7–​9, 35n5, 36, 73 Oestrymnides (region?) 123 Oleastrum (Hospitalet de l’Infant, Mont-​ Roig del Cam, Cambrils, Vandellòs, Tarragona) 41tab.3.1 Olontigi (Aznalcázar, Seville) 87, 146 Olysipo (=Olisipo; Lisboa, Portugal) 39n29 Onuba/​Onoba (Huelva) xxi, 41tab.3.1, 79, 88, 169 Opsicella (=Ocella; Cantabria?) 41tab.3.1 Oretania 18, 39n29, 41tab.3.1, 180 Oria (Cerro Domínguez/​Cerro de Oreto, Granátula de Calatrava, Ciudad Real) 41tab.3.1 Orospeda (mountains) 17, 37 Osca (Huesca) 41tab.3.1 Osset (San Juan de Aznalfarache, Seville) 150

Ossonoba (Faro, Portugal) 41tab.3.1, 86 Osuna. See Urso Pallantia (Palencia) 41tab.3.1 Palma (city) 41tab.3.1 Panormos (city; Sicily, Italy) 91n9 Pantelleria (island, Sicily, Italy) 93 Patio de Banderas (excavation; city of Seville) 174–​175, 182 Pax Augusta (Beja, Portugal?) 41tab.3.1, 44–​45 Penibaetic Mountains 76 Peña de la Sal (Alcolea del Río, Seville) 97n57 Peñalosa (mine; Baños de la Encina, Jaén) 172 Peñón de Salobreña (Salobreña, Granada) 84 Pillars of Heracles (Gibraltar) 72n13, 73, 101, 114, 122–​124, 126. Sea also Heracles; Heracleion Pillars of Hercules 25, 100, 123, 125 Strait of Gibraltar 4, 23, 25, 37, 42, 49n9, 60, 73, 73n16, 77, 80–​81, 85, 99, 106, 113, 114 fig.7.1, 118, 122, 135, 137, 140, 154n28, 157–​158, 177, 187n4 Pityussae 41tab.3.1. See also Balearic Islands Plana de Vic (Barcelona) 17 Playa de Tamujoso (Baños de la Encina, Jaén) 172 Polentia (city; Mallorca) 41tab.3.1 Pompelo (= Pompaelo; Pamplona) 41tab.3.1 Port of Menestheus (= Portus Menesthei) 41tab.3.1 Port of the Artabrians (estuary of O Burgo, La Coruña, Betanzos, Ares and Ferrol?) 43 Portugal 13, 74, 86, 171 Portus Magonis. See Magon Puente de Noy (Almuñécar, Granada) 83 Puig des Molins (Ibiza, Baleares) 83 Punta del Nao (Cádiz) 84 Pyrgi (Etruscan port; Santa Marinella, Rome) 95 Qart-​Aliya. (Sagunto, Valencia) 79. See also Saguntum Qart Hadast (Cartagena, Murcia) 79. See also Carthage Nova

246  Retamón (Baños de la Encina, Jaén) 172 Rhodus (=Rhode, city; Roses, Girona) 41tab.3.1 Rio Tinto/​Riotinto (mine; Huelva) 101n78, 105, 168, 169, 172, 173, 174 Rome vii–​x iii, xv–​x vi, 2n5, 6–​7, 9n30, 10–​12, 18, 21, 36–​38, 40, 42–​45, 51n16, 72, 80–​82, 86, 99, 101, 110, 118, 122, 127, 130, 132–​133, 135, 135n26, 136n30, 139–​140, 143–​144, 146–​147, 152, 165, 177, 186–​189. See also romanization Romula Hispalis (Colonia Iulia ...). See Hispalis Sabratha (city; Libya) 93n23 Sacili (El Carpio, Cordova) 159–​160, 163fig.9.3 b) Sacred Promontory (Algarve, Portugal)  27–​28. See also Cape St. Vincent Sado (river) 27, 158 Saetabi/​Setabis (Játiva, Valencia) 19, 41tab.3.1 Saguntum /​Arse (= Qart-​Aliya. Sagunto, Valencia) 4, 14–​15, 16n.6, 17–​18, 22, 41–​42  Salacia. See Beuipo Saltés (Huelva) 79 Saltus Castulonensis. See Castulo Sanlúcar de Barrameda (Cádiz) 95, 96n46 Sanctuary/​temple of Heracles-​Melqart… See Heracleion of Gades Sardian Sea/​Sardo, sea 23, 100, 121, 123 Sardinia (island, Italy) 92, 92n14, 93–​94, 101, 103, 105–​106, 118, 131n7, 134, 137 Segeda/​Sekaisa (Belmonte-​Mara, Zaragoza) 41tab.3.1, 168 Segesama (Sasamón, Burgos?) 41tab.3.1 Segobriga (Cabeza de Griego, Saelices, Cuenca?) 21, 41tab.3.1 Segontia/​Seguntia/​Serguntia (Langa del Duero, Soria? Sigüenza, Guadalajara?) 15–​16, 21, 21n24, 41tab.3.1 Seguntia. See Segontia Segura (river) 18, 74 Sekaisa. See Segeda Sekia (Ejea de los Caballeros, Zaragoza) 168 Selinunte (city; Sicily) 93n28 Serguntia. See Segontia Setabis. See Saetabi

Index of Geographical Names Seville. See Hispalis Sexi (=Sixo; Sexs; Exitanians, city of; Almuñécar, Granada) xv, 41tab.3.1, 74, 79, 81, 88, 131–​132, 141–​142, 146, 153–​155, 157–​158 Sexs. See Sexi Siarum/​Searo (=Fortunales, city of; Torre del Águila, Utrera, Seville) 180 Sicily/​Sicilian (Italy) 9, 91n9, 92, 92n13, 92n14, 92n15, 93–​94, 94n31, 96n43, 98, 100, 102n85, 105–​106, 121, 134, 134n19, 136n29, 156, 156n45 Sidon (city; Lebanon) 72 Sierra Morena (mountains) 39n29, 49n9, 65, 106, 166–​168, 171–​175, 180–​181 Sigüenza /​Segontia Arevacorum. See Segontia Silla del Papa (Tarifa, Cádiz) 81, 177 Sisapo (Novus, Cerro de las Monas, Almadén, Ciudad Real; Vetus/​municipium, La Bienvenida, Almodóvar del Campo, Ciudad Real) 41tab.3.1 Sixo. See Sexi Solus (city; Sicily, Italy) 91n9, 93n28, 156 Spal (Seville). See Hispalis Strait of Gibraltar. See Pillars of Heracles Sualis (=Suel; Fuengirola, Málaga) 74 Sucro (city; Cullera, Valencia?) 19, 41tab.3.1 Sucro (river). See Júcar Suel. See Sualis Tagilit (Tíjola, Almería) 87, 155, 162fig.9.2 d) Tagus (river) 37, 42 Tarraco (= Tarragona, Tarragon) 18, 38, 41–​42, 50 Tarraconense/​sis 76, 172 Tarragona (= Tarragon).  See Tarraco Tarshish 32. See also Tartessus, territory Tartarus 7 Tartessus/​Tartêssos (territory/​region/​ area) viii, xiii, 1, 3, 3n12, 4, 6, 7n18, 11, 23–​24, 28, 30tab.1, 30, 31fig.2.5, 31–​32, 32n54, 49, 52–​53, 55, 73, 73n16, 74–​75, 88, 134, 189n19. See also Tarshish Tartessus /​Tartesis (city) 26, 30, 41tab.3.1, 116 Tartessus (river) 3n12, 73, 73n16. See also Guadalquivir, river; Baetis, river Tartessis 3n12, 73 Tejada (river) 171

247

Index of Geographical Names Tejada la Nueva. See Ituci Tejada la Vieja (Escacena del Campo, Huelva) 101n78, 105 Tingentera 80. See also Iulia Ioza/​Iulia Transducta Tingis (Tangier, Morocco) 80 Tinto (river; =Urium) 169, 176 Toletum (Toledo) 19 Torre de Doña Blanca (=Doña Blanca; Puerto de Santa María, Cádiz) 95 Tortonda (Cortes de Tajuña, or Alcolea del Pinar, Guadalajara) 21 Tourboula (=Torbola or Turbula; city, vicinity of Saguntum?) 17, 22. See also Turda; torbolêtes Tourtutania. See Turdetania Trayamar (Algarrobo, Málaga) 83 Tribola (city;?) 23 Tuccis /​Colonia Augusta Gemella Tucci; Res Publica Tuccitanorum (Martos, Jaén) 41–​42, 190n22 Turba (city?). See Turdetania Turda (city?). See Turdetania Turdetania (= Turdetanian, Tourtutania) vii–​v iii, x, xii–​x vi, 1–​4, 4n12, 5–​11, 11n45, 12–​16, 16n6, 19, 20fig.2.2, 20, 20n22, 21–​24, 24n36, 25, 25n38, 25n39, 26–​27, 28fig.2.4, 29, 30tab.1, 30, 31fig.2.5, 31–​34, 36–​39, 39n29, 41tab.3.1, 44–​50, 50n14, 51–​52, 52n19, 53–​57, 59–​61, 61fig.4.2, 61n60, 61–​66, 75–​76, 81–​82, 86, 89, 102, 106, 108, 128, 130, 130n3, 140, 146, 151–​152, 157–​159, 165–​166, 168, 171,

173–​176, 179–​180, 182, 186–​189, 189n19, 190. See also BaeticaBaeturia Turda/​Turta 15, 15n3, 15n4, 16n11, 17–​19, 19n20, 22, 25 Turba 17n14 Tourboula 17 Turirrecina/​Turrirecina (Casas de la Reina, Badajoz) 146, 160 Turris Lascutana. See Lascuta Turta. See Turdetania Tyre (= Tyro; Lebanon) 72, 84–​85, 88, 108–​109, 111–​120, 122, 127–​128, 157 Tyrrhenian sea 100, 121 Ulia (Montemayor, Cordova) 41tab.3.1, 151–​152 Ulterior Baetica. See Hispania Ulterior Ulterior Lusitania. See Lusitania Urium (river). See Tinto Urso (Colonia Iulia Genetiva …; Osuna, Seville) xv, 22–​23, 41–​42, 65, 159 Utica (Tunis) 88, 119–​120, 122, 126, 137 Vaccean (plateaus) 2 Valpajoso (Villarrasa, Huelva) 170–​171 Varia (Logroño? Custodia de Viana, Viana, Navarra?) 41tab.3.1 Vesci (Gaucín, Málaga) 146, 156 Veteres (city?) 41tab.3.1 Villaricos. See Baria Vipasca (mine; Alentejo, Portugal) 174 Vindonissa (Windisch, Switzerland) 104 Yale (Malta) 98

Index Locorum Appian  Hisp.  6 75 10 14 16 22 37 164 38 99n69, 164 55 23 59 23 61 23 63 23 Artemidorus  frg. 22 Stiehle 12n47 P.Artemid. 4.12 3n12 apud Strab. 3.2.11 3, 3n12 Aristotle  Poet. 1451a–​b 8n26 Pol. 6.1320b 123 Asclepiades of Myrlea  T 4 bnj 697 Trachsel 6 F 7 bnj 697 Trachsel 6, 7 F 8 bnj 697 Trachsel 7 Athenaeus Mechanicus  4.9.3 126, 137n40 Augustine  Ad Rom 13, 71 Aulus Gellius  6.1.8 133n12 Avienus  O. Mar.  v. 85 74 vv. 310–​312 123 vv. 113–​116 123 v. 255 79 v. 265 73n16 vv. 375–​377 123 vv. 419–​24 73n15, 77 vv. 420–​424 123 Caesar  Bell. Hisp. 31.9 179 Cassius Dio  41.24.1 131n5 Cato  F 29 Sblendorio 15n3 F 30 Sblendorio 15n3

Cicero  Att. 7.3.11 138n41 Balb. 43 130n4 De sen. 19.69 74 Scaur. 19 72 Diodorus Siculus  5.16.3 72 5.20 101 5.20.1–​4 123 5.36 166, 184 5.38.2 101, 121 13.80.2 121 15.10.1 138n41 17.40 85 20.14.1–​2 85, 117 25.10.1 126 Eratosthenes  Strab. 1.1.1 34 Strab. 1.1.2 34n3 apud Strab. 1.2.15 8n26 apud Strab. 3.2.11 3, 3n12, 73n16 apud Strab. 3.2.13 4n12 apud Strab. 17.1.19 123 Hanno  Peripl. 1 124 apud. Plin NH 2.169 4, 99, 124 Hecateaus of Miletus  F 45 Nenci 73n16 Herodorus  apud Const. Porph. Adm. Imp 23.8 73n14 Herodotus  2.33 73, 73n14 2.143 ff 8n25 4.42 72 4.49 73, 73n14 Homer  Il. 11.632–​37 6 Od 10.1–​27 8n26 Justin  Epit.  18.5.12 119–​120, 126 18.4.15 115

249

Index Locorum 44.4 111 44.5.1–​4 99n69, 106, 109, 109n4, 115 44.5.1–​5 135n27 44.5.2 119 44.5.3 120 Livy  21.6.1 14 21.22.2–​3 77 23.2.5 146n63 23.26.5 ff. 16, 138n41 23.26.3–​6 127 24.17 15 24.18 15 24.19.2 15 24.19.10 15 24.19.11 ff. 15 24.20 15 24.42.11 14 26.37.10 99n69 28.15.14–​15 15 28.23.7 133n14 28.30.4 133n14 28.37.1 127 28.37.2 133n13, 135n26, 138n42 28.39.8–​12 14 32.5.2 138n42 33 17 33.21.6–​9 146n62 33.21.8 16 33.44.4 15 33.49 85 34 17 34.16 20 34.17.1 20 34.19.9–​10 21 35.1.1 19n19 35.1.11 19n19 35.7.7 19n19 35.7.8 19n19 35.22.5 19n19 35.22.6 19n19 35.22. 7 19n19 37.46.7 19n19 38.2.15 16 39.30.1 16 43.3.1–​4 80, 164 43.3.3 188n11

Per. 110, 131n5 Macrobius  Sat. 1.20.12 117, 135n27 Marcian of Heraclea  2.9 75 Mela  2.3 75 2.96 74 3.3 27 3.8 27 3.46 116, 128 Nonnus  Dion.  40.443–​500 115 40.423–​534 115 40.521–​534 115 Plautus  Captivi vv. 162–​63 17n16 Pliny  NH  2.169 99, 124 3.8 26, 27, 72, 75, 187n4 3.8.17 74 3.13 16, 26, 29, 50 3.25 21 3.27 16 4.113 27 4.120 74, 128 7.156 74 16.216 144n55 19.63 80, 144n55 36.97 166 Polybius  1.10.5 121, 137n38 1.10.15 100, 125 1.17.4 121 1.82 126 2.1.5 100, 109, 124–​125 2.1.5–​6 137n37 3.1.10 109 3.14.2 23 3.15.8 14n2 3.17.2 17 3.22 135n26 3.24 135n26 3.24.1–​2 122, 135n26, 135n28

250  Polybius (cont.) 3.24.1–​12 109, 135n26 3.33.14–​16 77 10.7.5 23 16.12.9 7n18 31.12 85 34.9 apud Strab. 3.1.6 50 apud Strab. 3.2.15 44, 50 apud Strab. 3.4.13 42 Porphyry  Abst.1.25 115 Posidonius  apud Strab. 3.5.5 128 Pseudo-​Aristotle  Mir. ausc.  37 123 84 123 136 123 Pseudo-​Scylax  Periplus, 1 72n13 Pseudo-​Scymnus  Orb. Des.  vv.196–​200 77 vv.195–​199 123 Ptolemy  2.4.5 50n14 2.4.6 75 2.4.9 4n12, 50 2.4.10 27 2.5.4 27 2.6.60 17 Quintus Curtius  4.2.10 85, 117 Sallustius  Hist. 2.5 74 Stephanus Byzantius  s.v. Tourdêtania 25n41 Strabo  1.1.1 34–​35 1.1.2 34n3 1.1.4 10n39, 128 1.1.21 35 1.1.23 35n6 1.2.15 8n26 1.3.2 10n39 3.1.4 73n19 3.1.6 2–​3, 7, 22n29, 24–​26, 36, 38, 46, 49n9, 50, 186

Index Locorum 3.1.7 3–​4, 114, 116 3.1.8 4, 40, 80, 130n2 3.1.16 147n65 3.2.1 2, 4, 24–​25, 39–​40, 49, 147n65 3.2.2 2, 42 3.2.3 2, 36, 39n29, 174n30 3.2.4 2, 36 3.2.5 2, 36, 40 3.2.6 2, 36, 165, 181 3.2.7 2, 25, 25n38, 25n39, 36 3.2.8 2, 36, 165 3.2.9 2, 166 3.2.10 166 3.2.11 3–​4, 3–​4n12, 26, 37, 73n16 3.2.12 3 3.2.13 3, 4n12, 6, 10n39, 49, 56, 75, 128, 130n3, 147n65 3.2.14 3, 10n39, 72, 128 3.2.15 ix, 2, 12, 22, 25n38, 26, 29, 44–​45, 50, 128, 186, 188 3.3.1 36, 39n29 3.3.3 36 3.3.4 36 3.3.5 2, 36, 42–​43 3.3.7 2 3.3.8 2, 36 3.4.1 37 3.4.3 6–​7 3.4.5 2 3.4.6 42 3.4.7 42 3.4.8 36, 42 3.4.9 2 3.4.10 37 3.4.11 36 3.4.12 36–​37 3.4.13 2n5, 36–​38, 41tab.3.1, 42–​43 3.4.15 36 3.4.16 36, 38 3.4.17 2, 38 3.4.18 38 3.4.19 7, 37–​38 3.4.20 2, 20fig.2.2, 38, 42 3.5.3 2, 42, 130n2, 186, 188 3.5.4 42 3.5.5 42, 79, 112, 115, 128, 144n55, 157, 188 3.5.6 42 3.5.7 42

251

Index Locorum 3.5.8 42 3.5.9 42 17.1.19 123 17.3.15 10n39, 85 Timosthenes  apud Strab. 3.1.7 3, 114 apud Strab. 3.5.5 115

Varro  Ling.  8.23 72 8.36 72 Velleius Paterculus  1.2.3 128, 144n55 Vitruvius  10.13.1–​2 126, 137n40

Index of Personal or Ethnics Names, and Conceptual Terms Aemilius, Lucius … Paulus Macedonicus 81, 82, 188 Africans 78, 128–​129, 135. See Phoenicians/​ Lybian Phoenicians/​Libyphoenicians. North-​Africans 128, 129, 135 Amphilochus (hero) 6. See also Helenus; Ocelas Anacreon 3 Anaximander 34n3 Apollo 151–​152 Apollonius of Rhodes 6 Appian xiii, 14, 17, 22–​24, 29–​30, 32 Arevaci/​Arvacans 16, 41tab.3.1 Argantonius 74 Aristarchus 8 Artemidorus xiii, 3, 3n12, 6–​7, 9, 11n44, 11n46, 12n47, 25–​26, 30, 32, 75n23, 76, 82 Artabrians 42–​43 Arvadians 132 Asclepiades of Myrlea 6–​7, 8n26, 9, 11–​12, 75n23, 82, 189n19 Asidonians (of Asido) 88 assimilation/​acculturation 49, 51, 64, 81, 131–​132, 144, 151. See also hybridization; differentiation Astarte or Astarte-​Isis 84–​85, 151, 155–​156 Asturians 37, 41ta.3.1 Attenes (‘king of the Turdetani’) 15 Augustus (emperor) 2, 36, 49n9, 75, 79, 81, 110, 141, 145, 150, 150n10, 151, 164–​165, 179 Ausetani 17 Avienus 73, 77–​78, 123 Baal (=Baal Hammon) 79, 85, 155 Baeticus/​-​i 29 Balbus the Elder, Lucius Cornelius 130, 138n41, 188 Balbus Gaditanian/​Tartessicus 12, 30, 74 Balbus the Younger 42, 141 Barcids xiv, 89–​90, 94, 97, 102, 104, 106, 108, 113, 121, 125, 127–​128, 134, 137, 139, 156–​157

Bastetanus/​-​ni/​-​ans xiii, 4, 25, 29, 37, 41tab.3.1, 49, 54, 56, 65, 114, 180, 187n4, n5. See also Phoenicians Bastuli/​-​ans/​Bastoulians xiii, 4, 26, 41tab.3.1, 75–​77, 87, 114, 140, 187n4, 187n5. See also Phoenicians Bastuli-​Phoenician. See Phoenicians; see also Blasto-​Phoenicians; Blasto-​poenos Belloi 23. See also Titthoi Bes 79, 84, 155 Blasto-​Bastetani. See Phoenicians Blasto-​Phoenicians. See Phoenicians; see also Bastuli-​Phoenician Blasto-​poenos/​punic. See Phoenicians Bogud 115 bricolage. See hybridization Brutus Callaicus, D. Junius 23–​24, 24n35 Caesar 42, 130–​131, 179, 180, 182 Callaicans 37, 41tab.3.1 Canaanite/​-​s (=Canaanite, chanaani) 71, 132 Cantabrians 41tab.3.1 Cantabrian Coniscans 37 Carpetanians (=Carpetans; Karpêsioi; Karpêtanoi) 23, 37 carthaginian empire. See punic Carthaginian/​-​s (= karchedonioi; population). See Punic Cato 4, 13–​22, 24–​25, 29–​30, 32, 76, 82 Celtiberians (=Celtiber/​-​i; Celtiber) 2, 2n5, 4, 15, 21–​23, 29, 37, 37n18, 38, 41tab.3.1, 44, 47, 82, 168, 168n11 Celtici 22, 29, 41tab.3.1, 50, 50n14, 65 Celts 4, 23, 44, 46, 49, 51, 52n19, 59, 78, 126, 147, 187n5 Chanaani. See Canaanite Chusor or Chusor-​Ptah 84, 155 Cicero 30, 72, 130, 138n41, 147 civic identity. See identity Claudius, Appius … Nero 15 classical identity. See identity Conii/​Cunei. See Cynetes Crates of Mallus 8n23, 8n26

Index of Personal or Ethnics Names, and Conceptual Terms creolization. See hybridization Culchas 81, 146. See also Luxinius Cynetes/​Conii/​Cunei 23, 73, 73n19, 74–​76, 76n24 Cypriots 132 Democritus 34n3 Dicearchus 34n3 differentiation 26, 51, 57, 57n37, 67–​68, 84, 132. See also assimilation/​acculturation; hybridization Diodorus Siculus 30, 101, 138n41, 184 Edetanians 37 Elbestii 73 Elissa-​Dido 115 Ephorus 34n3, 78, 123 Eratosthenes 3, 3–​4n12, 8n26, 9, 34, 34n3, 35n5, 73n16, 122 ethnic  ethnic group/​-​s/​ ethnonym/​ethnos xi, xiii–​x iv, 3, 3n3, 5–​6, 12, 14, 17, 21, 25–​26, 29–​31, 37–​38, 39n30, 41tab.3.1, 46–​47, 47n5, 48–​52, 54–​55, 72, 73n19, 76–​77, 86, 88, 127, 131, 138n41, 140, 148, 187, 190 ethnicity xiii, 51, 55, 57–​59, 65, 69, 70–​71, 77, 107, 131, 133, 136–​137, 148, 183. See also identity ethno-​cultural x, xii, xiii, 6, 11n45, 12, 47, 154, 157–​159 ethnogenetic/​ethnogenesis xiv, 5, 51–​52, 55, 58–​59, 59n51 ethno-​geography 7, 13, 46–​48, 50, 72, 78, 132, 140 paleo-​ethnological map 46, 48fig.4.1 ethno-​political 188 ethno-​territorial xiii -​identity xiv, 11n40, 54, 57, 57n37, 58, 65–​ 66, 67n78, 70, 83, 87, 120, 136, 142, 164, 183. See also identity Eudoxus 34n3 First Punic War 93–​94, 99–​100, 120, 124, 126, 137, 139 Second Punic War 16, 17n15, 22, 30–​31, 30tab.2.1, 42, 76–​77, 86, 94, 97–​100, 102, 103, 125, 133, 138–​139, 156, 188n10

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Gaditanians (population) 40, 42, 88, 110–​117, 119–​120, 124, 126–​128, 138 Gargoris 189n18, 189n19. See also Habis Geminus 8n23 génos/​gens 49. See also ethnic/​ethnos; populous; natio Gracchus, Tiberius Sempronius 82 graeco-​roman identity. See identity greek. See also identity/​classical/​graeco-​roman identity; hellenization; romanization historical-​mythological tradition xii, 6–​9, 11, 11n46, 13–​14, 40, 44n35, 72–​73, 115, 146, 154n28 colonization viii, 2, 3, 7, 9, 45n37, 49, 70, 72, 78, 132 culture 1, 6–​8, 8n25, 8n26, 9–​10, 10n33, 11, 30–​31, 70, 71–​74, 84, 88, 100, 156 Habis 189n18, 189n19. See also Gargoris Hadrian vii Hamilcar Barca 99n69, 100, 110, 133, 137 Hannibal 14, 77, 125, 137, 166 Hanno 99, 123–​124, 136n30. See also Himilco Hasdrubal 127, 138n41 Hecataeus 8n25, 34n3, 35, 73n16, 74fig.5.1, 78 Helenus (hero) 6. See also Amphilochus; Ocelas hellenization/​hellenistic culture xv, 3, 7, 7n.7, 8–​9, 9n30, 10, 10n33, 11, 11n43, 12, 26, 33, 49, 49n12, 62, 129, 144–​145, 154, 154n29, 156, 157n47, 189, 189n18. See also identity/​classical/​graeco-​roman identity; greek; romanization Heracles/​Herakles/​Melqart. See also Heracleion Heracles/​Herakles 2, 3, 114–​116, 154, 157–​158, 161, 189, 189n19 herculean myth/​saga 3, 8 Melqart of Gadir 79, 83–​85, 113, 115–​119, 124, 126, 138fig.8.1, 139–​141, 141fig.8.2, 149, 152–​157, 161 Melqart of Tyre 83, 108, 112, 115, 116–​119, 127 oracle of… 79, 111–​112, 115–​116, 119 sacra Herculis 109, 111–​113, 115–​116, 119 herculean myth/​saga. See Heracles Herodorus 73n14, 78 Herodotus 3, 8n25, 73n14

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Index of Personal or Ethnics Names, and Conceptual Terms

Himilco 99, 123. See also Hanno Hipparchus 8n23, 34n3 Hispano-​Carthaginian.. See Punic Homer 3, 34, 34n3 Homeric heroes 6, 189n18 Homeric interpretation 7, 8, 8n23, 8n25, 8n26, 9, 35n5 hybrid. See hybridization hybridization/​creolization/​bricolage x–​x i, 10–​11, 11n45, 51, 53, 62, 67, 107, 107n1122, 132, 142, 144, 154–​155, 187–​189. See also assimilation/​acculturation Iberians/​Iberi (population; communities) 2, 12n47, 38, 43, 44, 46, 52, 53, 59, 73, 75, 78, 83, 106, 114, 121, 123, 126–​127, 138n41, 153, 186 Iberian-​Phoenician 53 Iberian-​Turdetanian 53 Identity xii–​x vi, 5, 9–​12, 22, 34, 38, 52n19, 52–​59, 61n60, 64–​67, 69, 70–​74, 78–​80, 82–​84, 86–​88, 106–​107, 117, 119–​120, 124, 126–​129, 130–​133, 136–​137, 139–​140, 142–​147, 148–​151, 153–​154, 157–​159, 161, 164–​165, 176, 183–​184, 187, 189, 189n18, 190 civic identity 11n40, 79, 87, 88, 126, 128, 139, 147, 151 classical/​graeco-​roman identity x–​x i, 10–​11, 38, 51n16, 70n2, 71, 145, 149, 187. See also greek; hellenization; romanization Ilergetans 41tab.3.1 Indibilis 17n12. See also Mandonius Indigenous viii–​x , xii, 3, 13–​15, 17, 21, 31, 55, 81, 99, 132, 158–​158, 164, 174, 175–​176, 180, 182, 183–​184 Indo-​European ix, 56, 65 Italians (population; colonization) ix, x, xii, xv–​x vi, 38, 62, 64–​65, 164–​168, 172–​185, 186, 189. See also Romans Justin 106, 109–​120, 122–​125, 127, 189n18 Karchedonioi. See Punic Karpêsioi. See Carpetanoi Karpêtanoi. See Carpetanoi Lascutani (of Lacuta) 81 latins (rights) 44–​45, 186

Libyans 101. See also Africans and Phoenician/​-​s Lybian Phoenicians/​Libyphoenicians. See Phoenicians Livy xiii, 14–​22, 24–​25, 30, 32, 50 Lucullus 23 Lusitanians/​Lusitanus 23, 29, 41tab3.1, 46–​47, 147, 166–​167 Luxinius 82, 146. See also Culchas Mago Barca (=Magon) 99n69 Mandonius 17n12. See also Indibilis Manlius, Publius 15, 20 Marcellus, Marcus … Claudius 40 Marcian of Heraclea 75, 77 Marcius, Lucius … Septimus 146 Marinus of Tyre 28n45 Martial vii, 30tab2.1 Mastians/​Mastieni/​Massieni 46, 73–​76, 123. See also Tartessians Mela vii, 27, 29, 30tab2.1, 50, 74–​75, 80, 116 Melqart (mlqrt). See Heracles Milkashtart 85 Minucius, Quintus … Thermus 15 natio 49. See also ethnic/​ethnos; génos/​gens; populus Nonnus of Panopolis 114–​115 North-​Africans. See Africans Numidians 77. See also Phoenicians; Lybian Phoenicians/​Libyphoenicians Ocelas (hero) 6. See also Helenus; Amphilochus Odysseus 3, 8n26, 189, 189n18 Oretanians 37, 41tab3.1, 49, 54, 56 Philo of Byblos 10n33, 145 Phoenician/​-​s (=Phoïnix; people; community/​ -​ies) viii–​x i, xiii–​x v, 3n9, 4n12, 10, 10n39, 11n40, 11n43, 11n44, 49, 52n19, 53, 55–​56, 70–​82, 84–​88, 99, 100, 101, 107, 108, 109–​111, 113, 114fig.7.1, 118–​119, 122, 125–​129, 130–​135, 137–​147, 158–​159, 187–​188. See also Tyrians Bastuli-​Phoenician 75–​77, 81, 87, 140, 187n4, 187n5 Blasto-​Bastetani/​Blasto-​Phoenicians 75, 77, 140, 146, 187n5 Blasto-​poenos/​-​punic 75, 140, 187n5

Index of Personal or Ethnics Names, and Conceptual Terms Lybian Phoenicians/​ Libyphoenicians 77–​78, 123–​124 Phoenices 71 Phoïnix/​Phoenix 71, 72 phoenician coinage 132, 138, 139, 142, 147, 153–​154. See also punic coins phoenician colonization/​diaspora x, 2, 4, 49, 52–​53, 60, 74–​78, 80, 84–​85, 115, 118, 132, 144 phoenician-​punic xiii–​x v, 72, 75–​77, 99, 108n1, 132, 152–​155, 157, 159–​160, 187 phoenician world 10, 10n33, 111 Plautus 17–​18, 21, 32n55 Pliny xiii, 12, 14, 16, 21, 26–​30, 32, 50, 75–​76, 166, 187n4, 190n22 Poenus/​-​i/​poenicus. See Punics Polybius xiii, 2n5, 3–​4, 7, 9, 14n2, 17, 22–​26, 29–​30, 32, 34, 34n3, 37–​38, 42, 44, 50, 75n23, 76–​78, 99–​100, 109, 120, 124–​126, 137, 166 Pompeius Trogus. See Trogus Pompey 81, 180 Pomponius Mela. See Mela populus 49. See also ethnic/​ethnos; génos/​ gens; natio Posidonius xiii, 2n5, 3, 6–​7, 9, 11, 25–​26, 30tab2.1, 34, 34n3, 38, 42, 75n23, 76, 82, 128, 166, 189n19 postcolonial thought 133, 144 Pseudo-​Aristotelian 123 Pseudo-​Scymnus 78, 123 Pseudo-​Skylax 122 Ptolemy xiii, 3–​4, 13–​14, 16–​17, 22, 27–​30, 32, 50, 50n14, 75, 77, 190 Punic/​-​s (people; community/​-​ies) x, xiii–​x iv, 46, 49, 54, 56, 59, 62, 64–​65, 70–​72, 75–​77, 80, 84, 86–​87, 99, 101, 106–​107, 107n1155, 122, 137, 147fig.8.5, 160 Carthaginian/​-​s/​karchedonioi (people; community) ix, xi, 10, 15, 22–​23, 52n19, 59, 63, 72, 75, 81, 85, 87, 89–​94, 96–​107, 108–​113, 117–​128, 130, 132–​139, 142, 146, 156, 158, 164 punic (impact/​influence/​identity) ix, x, xi, xiii–​x v, 16, 22, 51, 60, 65, 75–​77, 79–​81, 83–​85, 87–​88, 90–​95, 99–​101, 106–​109, 113, 118–​124, 127–​129, 132, 139, 142, 146–​147, 152–​154, 157, 159–​161, 187–​189 carthaginian empire 72, 134

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punic coins/​mints (=Hispano-​punic…; Hispano-​Carthaginian; Phoenician-​ Punic mints…) xiv–​x v, 11, 81, 84, 86, 87, 89, 90, 92–​100, 102–​107, 126, 141, 146, 148, 150, 151–​152, 153n22, 154–​157, 159. See also phoenician coinage; sardinian/​ siculo punic coinage punic coins iconography 94, 107, 107n1155, 141–​142, 148–​158 punic-​gaditanian xiv, 60 punic/​neo-​punic (alphabet) 79, 81, 86–​87, 87n60, 107n1155, 142, 142n54, 146, 150, 153, 159–​160, 161, 178 Pytheas 9 Quintilian vii Romanization vii–​xii, viin12, xv, 1, 3, 9–​11, 11n45, 12, 49, 51, 75n23, 130, 144, 147, 164–​165, 174, 177, 179–​180, 182–​184, 186–​188, 190. See also identity/​ classical/​graeco-​roman identity; greek; hellenization roman culture vii, 80, 142, 144 roman rule/​imperialism x, 50, 127, 129, 130–​147 Romans (population/​citizens) ix, 40, 43, 44–​45, 49, 164, 166, 168, 186. See also Italians Saguntines 16 sardinian-​punic coinage 103, 105. See also punic Second Punic War. See First Punic War Scipio, Gnaeus Cornelius 22 Scipio, Publius Cornelius 22 Scipio, Publius Cornelius Aemilianus 137 Scipio, Publius Cornelius Africanus ix, xi, 19, 130, 133, 139 Selbyssina 123 Seneca vii Sexitanii (of Sexs/​-​x i) 88 siculo-​Punic coinage 95fig6.4, 96n50, 97–​98, 103, 105, 154n25. See also punic coins Sidonians 132 Stephanus of Byzantium 23 Stesichorus 3 Strabo vii, xiii, 1–​2, 13–​14, 16, 18–​20, 22–​26, 28–​30, 32, 34–​45, 46, 49–​50, 52n19, 56, 75–​76, 79, 80, 82, 86, 112, 114–​116, 123,

256 

Index of Personal or Ethnics Names, and Conceptual Terms 128, 130, 140, 145–​147, 157, 165–​166, 181, 186, 187n4, 188–​190

Tabula Alcantariensis (Alcántara, Cáceres) 188 Tagilitanii (of Tagilit) 88 Tanit/​Tinnit 84–​85, 91fig6.2, 92, 93fig6.3, 102, 155–​156 Tartesii (=Tartêssioi; Tartessian) 3n9, 4n12, 16, 29, 30, 32–​33, 47, 52–​53, 73, 73n16, 74–​76, 123, 126–​127, 132–​133, 138n41, 139–​140, 158 Tartessian/​-​s. See Tartesii tartessian culture xiv, 52–​53, 56, 99, 110, 168 tartessian past 7, 10, 26n42, 168, 189n18 Tartêssioi. See Tartesii Theopompus 78 Theron (‘rex Hispaniae citerioris’) 117–​118 Thersitai. See Tartesii Tiberius (emperor) 104 Timosthenes 3, 114–​115 Titthoi (Celtiberian people) 23. See Belloi Torbolêtes 14, 17, 22. See also Tourbula/​ Torbola/​Turbula Tourdetanoi/​-​êtanoi. See Turdetanians Tourdouloi. See Turduli Tourtoi. See Turdetanians Tourtutanoi. See Turdetanians Trajan (emperor) vii Trogus (=Pompeius Trogus) 106, 110–​113, 119, 124, 189n18 Trojan heroes 6, 8

Turdetanians (=Tourdetanoi/​-​êtanoi; Tourtoi; Tourtutanoi; Turdu) x, xiii, 2–​4, 7, 17n16, 25, 30–​33, 32n55, 44–​45, 46, 48–​49, 51, 53–​54, 106, 186. See also Turduli turdetanian culture xiv, 38, 44, 48, 51–​69 Turduli/​-​ans xiii, 3–​4n12, 7n18, 15–​16, 22, 26, 26nn42–​43, 27fig2.3, 28–​29, 30–​32, 41tab3.1, 44, 49, 50, 50nn14–​15, 51, 65, 75, 82, 87, 146, 187n5. See also Turdetanians Turduli ueteres 26n42, 27 Turdulus/​-​a (in onomastic formula) 29, 29n51 Turdus. See Turdetanians Turtumelis (anthroponym) 21. See also Turta Turtunaz (anthroponym) 21. See also Turta Turtunta (anthroponym) 21. See also Turta Tyrians 40, 85, 112, 117, 120, 122, 132, 134. See also Phoenician tyrian identity 109, 119, 127–​129 tyrian koiné 115, 118–​119, 122, 128 Vaccei/​Vaccaeans 23, 37, 41tab3.1 Varro 30tab2.1, 50, 72 Vasconians 41tab3.1 Veronians 37, 41tab3.1 Viriathus 23 Western Phoenician. See Phoenician Zacynthians 42